fake blog

[rapscalious rob]

Tuesday, September 30th, 2003 10:00 AM
I got into a disagreement with a coworker about which was stronger, Superman or the Incredible Hulk. I hit him with my fax machine. Sparks flew into the air, and smoke rose up. Now my fax machine is broken and I’ve killed my coworker.

Tuesday, September 30th, 2003 3:00 PM
I saw my coworker who I thought I killed getting a cup of coffee from the lounge area. I walked up to him and apologized, and he gave me this weird look. Then I realized it wasn’t my coworker I hit with the fax machine- it was my computer. They both start with “c,” you know? I just got confused. So now both my computer and fax machine are broken. Darn!

Any comments for today’s blog entry?

[catbelly]

Tuesday, September 30th, 2003 5:00 PM
Luckily the peon next to me is on stress leave and I can use her computer. Her cubicle is full of Hello Kitty paraphenelia... for some reason I find it arousing!! I wonder what Hello Kitty wears underneath that dress? Do Kitties wear underwear? They don't usually wear clothing anyway, do they? I must google this.

[rapscalious rob]

Tuesday, September 30th, 7:30 PM
Oh my! Hello Kitty vibraters. It’s as if the good lord himself were trying to speak to me in some sort of code. Wow! I must really be special. I think I might get that hello kitty fetish lingerie and vibrator. Yes.

I have been looking in the classified section of the newspaper trying to find a used fax machine. I need something to hit people with, and since the fax machine doesn’t work, that’s what I use. Doesn’t that make sense? No? Well, screw you. Since I couldn’t figure out how to get the computer to work, I think I’ve taken care of two problems at once by hitting it with the defunct fax machine. I’m going to ask for a raise tomorrow.

I can’t ignore this nagging urge for head cheese much longer. God, I wish Michelle would stoop looking at me that way! It makes me lusty. Look at the way she rolls her eyes, the way she crinkles her nose, narrows her eyes, and makes that tight little frown. I think it means she is attracted to me!

[catbelly]

Wednesday, October 1, 4:01 pm
Head cheese sandwich was delicious. The addition of stinky cheese really made it - note to self - buy more stinky cheese. I read that stinky cheese makes women horny because it contains pure unadulterated bull pheromone. Michelle was making that face at me again - come to think of it, during lunch she never stopped making that face... holy moley, was it the stinky cheese? Maybe I should keep some at my desk? Would that be too obvious? I don't want to appear desperate. Maybe I will wipe some on the underside of the desk so the smell can permeate my area without the cheese being in full frontal evidence.

[rapscalious rob]

Thursday, October 2, 3:13 pm

I can’t believe it! Today a new memo was issued in the office prohibiting employees from eating certain foods in the office, including garlic, that Norwegian fermented fish dish that I like so much, and, get this: STINKY CHEESE! I’m so pissed. I mean, it’s not like it really matters now, but I know how Michelle is so turned on by the cheese, and I remember distinctly the way her face contorted with sheer unadultrated passion when I brought the Norwegian fish. I showed them, though, the bastards.

On a positive note, I found a fax machine for sale in the paper yesterday. I called the people, and we arranged for me to go there on my lunch break today. Well, this one is even worse (better) than the last one. Right when I plugged it in, it started giving me all kinds of error messages. The people selling the machine explained to me that it was broken, but I just pretended to be a repairman. Heh. Five bucks! What a deal. I was so happy, I almost forgot to ask for my raise.

I didn’t, though. And guess what? It turns out that I don’t even work here. I swear I must’ve been here like five years! The boss said that after that time I tried to write Michelle an e-mail, I was fired. I don’t remember any of this. If I weren’t so confused, I would’ve put my new used fax machine to good use on my boss’s head. Well, now that I don’t work here, what should I do to say goodbye to Michelle? I thought about the way my stinky cheese turned her on, and, risking everything, I put the smallest slice in her desk, with a note telling her how much I love her, and how I know how she feels about me. I felt giddy with happiness after I left.

Until next time, I am yours truly,
Larry Dumbo.

[rapscalious rob]

Monday, October 6th, 9:30 PM

Today I saw Michelle at the unemployment office. Seeing her made my heart beat a little bit faster, and I couldn’t help but smile. I tried waving at her, but she didn’t seem to notice me, so I said, “hey, Michelle!” a little louder so she would hear me. Then she turned around and gave me “the look.” I think all she needed to see was the big, toothy smile on my face to know that her feelings of love for me were reciprocated.

We didn’t get to talk, though, because she was ahead of me in line, and left right away. It didn’t even occur to me until after she left that she shouldn’ be here. I just thought she was coming to visit me or something. I guess they fired her. Could it have been the stinky cheese I put in her desk?

Well, it’s probably for the best; they were going to ruin our relationship anyway, with their stupid rules about fish and stinky cheese. On my way back home I had another head cheese sandwich. They’re so hard to get these days. I think it’s really sad that nobody appreciates head cheese anymore. It’s one of the finer things in life.

How am I ever going to get a date with Michelle? Should I give her my number the next time I see her at the unemployment office? Should I offer her a head cheese sandwich? A wedding ring? What do you think?

[lapietra]

Tuesday, October 7th, 3:37 pm

Man, being out of work sucks the big one. There's the boredom... well, that's pretty much it. And no office machines... And, dammit, this Hello Kitty vibrator is defective. I only used it for a couple of hours yesterday and the battery died on me. There must be something wrong with the unit...
I found Michelle's number on Google, and left her a message. Haven't heard back from her yet... Wonder if I should call her again?

Tuesday, October 7th, 4:12 pm
Just tried calling Michelle again. Left another message. Where could she be?

Tuesday, October 7th, 5:03 pm
Okay, I'm getting pissed now. She's not calling me back. Is she playing hard to get? Is she maybe seeing somebody? Oh my God - was she maybe in a car accident??? Or maybe she's trapped under some large object and can't get to the phone!!!! Shite... Okay - I'll try one more time and if she doesn't pick up, I'm going over there.

Wednesday, October 8th, 8:15 am
Spent the night outside Michelle's place. She never came home... I wonder if she got my last message? I let her know I'd be stopping by... You'd think she'd have left a message letting me know she was out, since I expressed so much concern for her... Too tired to think straight. Good thing I'm not working.

[funkytuba]

Wednesday, October 8th, 12:15 pm

Called mom, told her about Michelle and me. At least I hope she got the gist of it. But it sounded like she's been off her meds, so she thought I was from the IRS at first, then when I tried to explain about Michelle, she called me Peter and asked me how I could be so cruel to her after Batman Returns was such a success.

After the call I was feeling a little depressed. So, you know what that means, back to the deli for more stinky cheese and a surprise... they had Garlic-And-Lox Stinky Cheese. Ivar behind the counter gave me a look when I asked him to put it "on my tab" but he did it anyway.

[rapscalious rob]

Thursday, October 9th, 9:30 pm (I think- the damn computer clock is faulty.)

Today I applied for several jobs. Mostly office jobs, but I also applied to work for my brother, who owns a costume business, to promote his business as a costumed character, but only for a couple of weeks. My brother said that the chicks dig costumed characters. When I told him about Michelle, he said that if I played chess the way I’m chasing women, I’d lose every time-- I need to look around, keep my options open. He also said maybe I’d have more luck if I stopped lugging this broken fax machine around with me everywhere, and holding it as if it were my baby. My brother doesn’t know anything.

Then again, maybe he’s right. I dunno. I think he takes after my dad more-- more rational, more intellectual. I’m crazy, like mom. Who am I to say what’s logical? Shut up. Seriously, though- maybe that’s why that cute HR lady was giving me that funny look at that one interview-- the fax machine. Hmm. Or was it the half-finished head cheese sandwich?

I’m not sure where I should go to repair the hello kitty vibrator. At least I have the lingerie-- and, I’ve got to admit, I look SEXY in that suggestive garb. Yes, this could be the new me.:D

I went by the deli again. Paid the tab. Talked to Ivar about my current situation. He seemed to think working as a costumed character was a good idea, but wouldn’t give me a straight answer as to whether or not I looked goofy lugging around the fax machine. Damn Ivar, he knows me too well. He concluded by saying “you know, Larry, to my way of tinking, der’s nuttin’ what can’t be fixed wit’ a nice hunk of head cheese.” Amen to that!

[catbelly]

Wednesday, October 8, 12:30 pm
Just realized that I didn't cross the international date line like I thought. Note to self, re-calibrate watch and fix the DeLorean.

Michelle, Michelle, Michelle, Michelle
how I enjoy your wide-eyed stare
your affinity for stinky cheese
brings me down, aye, to my knees
Wherefore art thou, ma petite quenelle?

I got a fax today on my machine that told me my apartment building is an alien being. I am living in its gall bladder! I don't know what to do, what if I am like a gall stone and the alien has an operation to get rid of me?? I am very concerned. I might write to my governor about it but I can't find my pen. I think my dog stole it to make his grocery list. He always buys the same damn things, I don't know why he makes a list.

[rapscalious rob]

Wednesday, October 8, 2:00 pm
Goddamn widgets! Gah!

[nycwriters]

Wednesday, October 8, 4:02 pm

Just found out there's an opening for a new apartment up in the lung. May move on up like George Jefferson.

Wednesday, October 8, 4:03pm

God damned phlegm beat me to the lung. Sheesh good living space disappears quickly around here. Am on the lookout for higher ground.

[Hyakujo's Fox]

Thursday, October 9, Early am.

Oh, man. I woke up with my feet in the refrigerator again. I think there was something wrong with the last batch of head cheese from Ivar. This is the third time I'd had a head cheese trip after buying Ivar's "homemade" blend. He always winks when he hands to me, but each time after I'd eaten it I'd woken with my feet in the refrigerator. I will have to remember to ask him about it when I pick up some more this afternoon.

Thankfully my sanity was soon fully restored, so I grabbed my fax machine and decided to get down to catch the end of the all-night Barbra Streisand festival at the local cinema. I wasn't too sure whether I needed it, but just to be safe I paid for an extra ticket for the fax machine. I walked in to find I was just in time for What's Up Doc? Ryan O'Neal is my favourite actor.

Somewhere during the car chase I drifted off to sleep and dreamt of Michelle.

[rapscalious rob]

Thursday, October 9, 10:09 p.m.

Well, I took the bus over to my brother’s shop today and dressed up in this silly costume: a giant lizard-man with a big, goofy grin. I had to hold a sign that read:

Get ready for Halloween at:
Joe’s Costume Shop
your number one source
for interesting and outlandish costumes!
Open Monday-Friday, 9 AM to 7 PM.
Halloween Special!
buy a costume here between now and the end of October, and you’ll recieve
A 30% DISCOUNT!

And stood in front of the store for 3 hours. Then I went inside, removed the costume and cooled off, my brother gave me some bottled water and a hot dog, and we talked for a while,then I got beck in the costume and paraded around for another 3 hours. Then I went inside and changed and went to the deli to eat a head cheese sandwich. It was kind of exhausting, and it was emotionally draining to be away from my fax machine for so long. But the warmth of the costume provided welcome relief for my cold-numbed feet. And women actually smiled at me! At least some women did. I was hoping I’d see Michelle, but I never did. I saw this pretty women I pass by sometimes when I go to the deli, though. She looked at me for what seemed like a long time. I wonder if she was checking me out?

I guess I should be thankful my brother is self-employed. He didn’t make me sign any forms or anything. “Strictly under the table,” is what he said this was. I guess I’ll be doing this for the next month, until halloween. I guess it’s better than a real job. I don’t know. I don’t know if I’ve ever had a real job.

Looking over my past few posts, I’m really puzzled. I mean, how did I recieve any faxes at all if my fax machine is broken? I looked around my house to try to find the faxes I supposedly recieved, but all I found was a sheet of paper with the words: “From the apartment: you are in my gall bladder! Anananaaa! Michelle.” in sloppy handwriting that I recognized as being sort of like my own handwriting. I wonder, did I write this? Or did my mother come by my apartment at some point? If I wrote this, then is the pure, unadultrated bull pheromone driving me mad? I’d hate to have to give up stinky cheese.

[rapscalious rob]

10/14/03 8:30 pm

I got a sore throat the day before yesterday, so I decided to take matters into my own hands, seeing as how I don’t have health insurance. I brewd a big pot of coffee, and poured it out in two pans. I added cream & sugar per usual. Then I let it sit. This morning, the mold was thick enough for my satisfaction. Nothin’ like home-grown penecillin for the nasties.

Gllerrrr! It tastes awful. But then, it must be helping: no pain, no gain, right? I thought I’d share this idea with you, my unknown audience. I hope you take my wisdom to heart: don’t pay eighty dollars for what you can do yourself for next to nothin’.

The costume job is going well. My bro has been offering me advice on the love scene. He’s such a great guy. But he doesn’t seem to understand the effects of pure unadulterated bull pheromone.

I love you people! My audience! My wonderful, wonderful audience! I will keep you posted!
I will share the minutest details of my life with you! We will get through this TOGETHER.

Love,

Larry Dumbo.

[catbelly]

Thursday October 16, 2003. 11:08 am

I got another fax, I think?? I know my machine is broken, but I think it is using the potential energy stored in its atoms (it's a Panasonic) to convert the ambient thermal energy from my apartment heater (electric, manufacturer unknown) into electrical energy which it uses to pick up electrical signals from the mother ship. The trouble is, once it receives a fax I think it must teleport the fax to various locations in my apartment - gasp - probably because the electrical appliances create a magnetic field that synchronizes with the fax machine/mother ship interface!! I don't know why I didn't think of this before. I should map the points and find out whether it is possible that they are in a configuration that would allow me to travel through space.

I am feeling a bit funny. I wonder if I ate something that didn't agree with me. That doesn't seem likely since all I had was head cheese sandwiches and penicillin. OooOOOoOOOoohhhHHhhhhh. I have to go -

[funkytuba]

Thursday October 16, 2003. 7:38 pm

SHE CALLED! OMG she called, SHE CALLED, She Called... and boy did she have a lot to say. I was screening my calls as usual when I heard her voice! She Called! I picked up the receiver and she couldn't stop telling me everything she believes in. She's developed quite a set of viewpoints, too, Immigrants rights, the environment, labor laws.

She's also been hobnobbing too, preparing for our future together, because she handed the phone to Bill Clinton. He wanted to talk politics too, so I listened patiently "Yes, Mr. President. Of Course Sir... ha ha ah!" At the end, my sweet Michele got back on and thanked me for being there and taking an interest in her new calling.

We got disconnected somehow. Of course, she must have been busy with all her new friends, because when I tried to call her back, her line was busy. I guess she must have been entertaining Mr. Clinton.

This called for another trip to the Deli. Ivar was so impressed with my success that he gave me his great grandmother's recipe for colds. It contains... you guessed it! Stinky Cheese, Garlic, head cheese and fermented Braunschweiger. At only $16/ounce, what a bargain! I only got three pounds, though, and put it on my brother's amex.

[rapscalious rob]

Michelle, Michelle, goddess of love!
So sweet, my peaceful turtledove
My dream came finally halfway true,
When on the telephone- ‘twas you!
I felt my heart go pitter-pat,
picked up the phone, heavily sat,
and reminisced about your face,
that tiny frown I can’t erase,
those furrowed brows of deep concern,
It is for you, Michelle, I yearn!

Oh how did I this fortune earn?
to hear her on my phone today--
How did my life take such a turn?
now I know I’ll be okay.

Although we may be far apart,
You warm and soothe my thumping heart,
And, like the subatomic particles of quantum science,
we are entangled, against all odds, in defiance!
For, at night, I feel the music of your thoughts.
Then you must feel mine, too… connect the dots

[rapscalious rob]

Saturday, October 18, 2003; 1:37 pm

A. Data:
One dubious recieved fax
Supportive evidence:
1. One blog entry insinuating receipt of said fax.
2. One piece of fax paper with writing on it.

B. Data:
Fax machine is broken.
Supportive evidence:
1. Couple who sold it to me told me it’s broken. They had no reason to lie about this.
2. When I subsequently plugged it in, I got dozens of error messages.

C. Data:
Fax machine isn’t plugged into phone jack
Supportive evidence:
1. My own incontrovertable eyewitness testimony that the fax machine isn’t plugged into the phone jack (at least while I am conscious, alert, and in the presence of said fax machine in my apartment).

D. Data:
Fax machine isn’t plugged into AC outlet.
Supportive evidence:
1. My own incontrovertable eyewitness testimony that fax machine isn’t plugged into an AC outlet (at least while I am conscious, alert, and in the presence of said fax machine in my apartment).

E. Data:
Miracles can happen.
Supportive evidence:
Michelle called me. Doesn’t matter why. She called me. And she seemed happy.

F. Interpolation of said data:
If the fax machine has no power source, it must be running on ambient energy, and if the fax machine isn’t plugged into a phone jack, it must communicate with the mothership with electromagnetic impulses.
Supportive evidence:
See above data.

Conclusion:
If the fax machine printed a fax even though it is broken and even though it isn’t plugged into the phone jack or AC outlet, then that is a miracle. Since, as data item E suggests, miracles do happen, then this, the receipt of a fax by an apparently dead fax machine, is possible. One explanation is that the fax machine recieves ambient thermal energy from my electric heater and communicates via electromagnetic impulses from the mothership of all broken fax machines.

To test my hypothesis, I have affixed one (1) television antennae to my head, and wrapped myself in aluminum foil. If these fax machine signals are really travelling through space, I should be able to pick them up. Maybe the mothership can communicate the data that makes up my person to a distant location, thus making teleportation possible. I will repeat this experiment every night for at least one (1) year, or until I recieve a signal.

[catbelly]

Monday, October 20, 2003. Noon.

I have turned up my electrical heater in hopes of stimulating my fax machine to receive more messages. It is very hot in here, and I am starting to develop a rash. Where is my Gold Bond powder?? I wonder if I should be removing the aluminum foil periodically? It is getting a bit sticky. Plus, I think I dropped some of my head cheese sandwich into my pants.

[rapscalious rob]

Tuesday, October 21, 2003 6:24 PM

I have taken to wearing long underwear under the aluminum foil-- it reduces the chafing and absorbs my natural body moisture, which stops that annoying rash from forming. I had a tough time sleeping last night. I kept itching all over. And the antennae made it difficult to position my head. Perhaps I should take off my outfit before going to bed…

As it turns out, the head cheese sandwich got smeared all over my hello kitty underwear. I don’t know how to get the smell out. And I don’t think I will ever get the stain out. Oh, well… maybe that bull pheromone will stimulate my libido.

At one point, I thought I might have caught a signal, though-- it felt like a kind of “throbbing” in my head. Of course, I experienced a similar throbbing sensation after eating that mold the other day. Hmm… does the mold help me communicate with the mothership?

[catbelly]

WEDNESDAY OCTOBER 22, 2003, 2:13 PM!

I AM VERY EXCITED!! I THINK THE MOLD MIGHT ACTUALLY *BE* A SPECIES SEEDED ON EARTH BY BEINGS FROM THE MOTHERSHIP!

RESEARCH TO FOLLOW!!

[Klynne]

Friday October 25th 7:00 p.m.

It is just as I suspected. The mold is a species seeded on earth from beings from the mothership.. Fortunately for me, I did not have to conduct extensive experimentation. I had a phone call from “people” claiming that my house needed new siding. Since I rent, I found this to be highly suspicious. Then I realized that it was not really siding they were trying to sell me. They were really trying to communicate important details about the mold but had to talk in code, since they realized my phone is tapped. Someone is ringing my doorbell, I have to get it. More details to follow.

[Klynne]

Friday October 24, 2003 7:15 p.m.

Something must have happened with my sense of time by sleeping in that antennae. I realized my earlier entry has the wrong date. Is my mind melting?

My brother stopped by to drop off a costume. Apparently his business is branching out into renting out characters for adult parties. I am to debut at as one of the Village People at a party tomorrow night. He was kind of tight lipped about the nature of the party. I guess I won’t worry about the details, I can use the extra $20 bucks, and besides I get to be the cop! I am kind of disappointed that the gun is not real.

Getting back to the phone call from the “siding people”, this is what I discovered about the alien seeds. From what I can gather, I need to liquefy my hello kitty underwear with the mold (I will have to do some research on google on how to do this. If you can learn how to make your own stinky cheese on the internet, surely there must be something about liquefying hello kitty underwear? And what mold, the mold I have ingested, or the remaining mold leftover from my homemade cold rememdy? Oh, the logistics!) I am to let the mixture sit for 48 hours, and then drink it. I have been chosen to be the vessel to incubate the alien spawn. Then I am to mate with an attractive female, thereby impregnating her. I had trouble deciphering the rest. The sales person said something about life time guarantee on all work done…blah, blah, blah…. Just could not figure it out.

[Klynne]

Sunday, October 26, 2003 4:15 p.m.

My mother bailed me out of jail this morning. I only got to make one phone call, and I could not bring myself to call my brother, that SOB. He is the one that got me into trouble in the first place.
Him and his damn get rich quick schemes. He did not tell me, that as part of this party, I was expected to whore myself out! Maybe I will journal the details later (of what I can remember). Right now, I have a bump on my head, my butt hurts, and I have a craving for a stinky cheese sandwhich with extra anchovies.

The charges brought against me are prostitution, drunk and disorderly, indecent exposure, resisting arrest etc., etc.,etc. I am going to have to get a good lawyer.

[catbelly]

Monday, October 27, 2003. 1:48 pm.

Someone gave me the name of a lawyer, Mr. Beale Blues. I don't know if he can help me but I hope so. I need to have access to my fax machine and blender and Hello Kitty underwear to complete the project and impregnate Michelle, and how can I do that if I'm in jail??

[Klynne]

Monday October 27, 2003 8:00 p.m.

Whew, I had a busy afternoon. I called Mr. Blues right away, and as luck would have it he was able to meet with me this afternoon. He is slick, I like the way he thinks. After hearing my story, he said he thinks I can avoid jail time, and maybe just get 5 years probation. He said the real criminal in this whole scenario is my brother for pimping me out. So we are going to turn him in. I did have some reservations, he is my brother after all, but Mr. Blues made me see the light.

After meeting with Mr. Blues, I went to the hardware store to purchase a few things that I will need for my incubating alien spawn plan. I am so excited that I was chosen by the Mothership to take part in this important experiment. I am awaiting to hear for further instructions from them so I can begin the process of liquefying my Hello Kitty underwear with the mold/alien seed.

[Maggie Shamrock]

Thursday, October 30, 2003

Well, I have found there is absolutely NO WAY to liquefy Hello Kitty underwear. I've sliced, I've diced, I've julienned them, put them in a pot of rat poison and battery acid on the stove to boil, still the innocuous fibers live...while my eyebrows and hair lie in a singed pile at my feet. Ohhh...they taunt me with rude fiber fingered hand gestures, speaking with their haughty French accents, mocking me with their cleverly witty little French phrases. Even the Mold/Alien seed, with it's far superior intellect cannot figure a way to defeat them. I had no idea that Hello Kitty underwear was made undercover in that horrid, wicked country. Damn the French and all their fancy lingerie! I have contacted the Mothership using my newly acquired telepathic powers. I was sent an invisible fax immediately...they did not want the paper evidence to be detected by the French spies that watch my house continually now. The fax said "Beware...Gerard Depardieu is a secret agent bent on destroying all of our plans...he MUST be stopped. Find a way to capture him at once so that we may poke, prod and otherwise torture him."

I am at a loss as to how to get to the evil Gerard...for now I am going to bury the putrid lump of Hello Kitty fibers that rest smugly on my stove in a very deep hole beneath the oak tree in my back yard. Maybe I will receive a call from my beloved Michele...Michele my belle...Mich..mi...wait a minute...isn’t that name...FRENCH????

[Klynne]

Friday October 31, 2003, 10:35 p.m.

I am so afraid....As I write this, I am hiding under my bed. The French have invaded my apartment complex. It started right after dusk, they started knocking on my door yelling "Trick or Treat?"

What does this all mean?

I think they are trying to kill me.

Pray for my soul.

[rapscalious rob]

November 1, 1:48 AM

I am starting to calm down after the terror of this night. All those strange people dressed up in elaborate costumes, saying “trick or treat! trick or treat! trick or treat!” Obviously they were spies sent out by the United Galactic Council, to foil my plot to unbind myself from the shackles of this physical body and achieve true freedom with the help of the mold and the mothership.

Somehow there was something familiar about it, those children, dressed up in ridiculous costumes, carrying plastic pumpkins or bags, filled with something (mold?). I don’t know why, but I identified with it somehow. The UGC must have been counting on this strange personal resonance I have for costumed characters…

speaking of which, I spoke with mom yesterday. About my bro. I had reservations about telling her about that night, but I decided she would probably find out anyway in one of her lucid moments. So I told her. She seemed okay about it… maybe she didn’t understand what I was trying to tell her. Me and my mom conversing is like the blind leading the deaf. We’re both crazy. At least I’m sane enough (sometimes) to know I’m crazy (or viewed as crazy, anyway). My mom, though… well, she reminds me of what I will probably be like later on. Or maybe I’m that way now? Who’s to say? Michelle? The mold?

I thought about the “French connection” a little more today. I decided that even if Michelle is a french name, I still love her. A rose by any other name, you know?

I thought about that name, also, Gerard Depardieu. Pardieu. Deu. Deus ex machina. Perdido. Perdón. Gerard. Chair hard. achoo. Chard. Shard. broken.

I realized that the mothership was speaking to me in code. It seems to be saying that I should beware of being lost, hurt, sick or fooled, or I risk losing everything. The mold helps heal my sickness, but it hurts. My love for Michelle also hurts. So does this feeling of betrayal from my brother. Head cheese makes me feel good. So does Michelle. And that beautiful woman I see regularly when I make my rounds, who smiled at me that one time. What does it all add up to? What should I do to achieve liberation, to have my soul transmitted to the universal fax network mother? Maybe I was never meant to reach this kind of nirvana. Maybe it will take more than one lifetime. Or perhaps it will never happen.

[Klynne]

Saturday November 1, 2003. 6:20 p.m.

I have done a lot of soul searching today. I read my earlier entry, and realized that I am suffering from a form of melancholy. I went to the library and checked out some self-help books. The librarian was checking me out. She thinks I’m hot. I could tell by the way her hand shook as she handed me back my library card. I have that affect on women. At any rate, after checking out my books, I waited outside for her. I hid in the bushes, and followed her home to make sure she was not being followed by some lunatic. I know where she lives now, I will have to drop in sometime to chat.

I have only read a few chapters of the book entitled “I’m Okay and You’re Okay.“ It put things into perspective for me. It made me realize, despite my insanity, I can do anything I put my mind to. The United Galactic Council can piss off. I will achieve liberation, and my soul WILL be transmitted to the universal fax network mother. Nothing will stand in my way. I am in control of my destiny. Not my mother, not Michelle, not my brother.

[Maggie Shamrock]

Saturday, November 1, 2003

I had a thought...if ONLY I could make love to Michelle while eating a Head cheese sandwich perhaps I could reach the nirvana I have been searching for. I will have to devise a plan in which I can make this happen, although, the Head cheese will have to be fresh and Michelle in a state of intoxication that defines all space, time, and intergalactic boundaries. Maybe if I mix the mold/seed with a nice little Pinot Noir...yes, that just might work to set the mood. Perhaps, the universal fax network mother might be able to mix me a "mother" of a potion...a love potion! Ohhhhh....getting another fax transmittal from the mothership...Christ! not more code....the message states "If I had a hammer....I'd hammer in the morning...I'd hammer in the evening...all over this land." Peter, Paul and Mary? Folk music? What does it all mean????!!!!!

[Klynne]

Tuesday November 24, 2003, 8:00 p.m

I think I have deciphered the code. See, the message is not so much about having a hammer and being hard working. It is really about St. Peter, St. Paul and the Virgin Mary. It is quite ingenious. Saints Peter and Paul were pivotal in the Bible, and Mary, well she was the mother of Jesus after all. I have come up with two scenarios. I need to either:

1. Rob Peter to pay Paul. But how do I get the money to Paul after I have robbed Peter? How do I rob Peter? He is dead after all. How do I send a money order to heaven, I am assuming Paul is dead as well? Maybe the mothership could assist????

2. Impregnate Michelle, and she will be the mother of Jesus. So, is this the end times, the second coming of Christ? Not sure if I am prepared for the apocalypse.

Or maybe I have to do a combination of the two? I will have to run out and get more head cheese and think about this a little more. Just when things seem to make sense, they suddenly make no sense at all. Maybe I should go to the library and talk to the librarian. See if she can find me some reference material.

[Klynne]

Tuesday November 4,2003 8:15

OMG, OMG, I have lost track of time again. Must pull it together.

[Maggie Shamrock]

November 4, 2003

I have gathered myself together after my previous venture into the unknown. It wasn't that I "lost track of time" but I have found along with my telepathic ability I now have the power to project myself into the future. The mothership has told me to reserve this power until I am instructed to use it. Ah, they are too wise...I nearly gave myself a hernia trying to get back to November 4th from the 24th...I can't imagine what damage would have been done had I skipped a whole month or a year!

Instead of going to the library as I had planned I think I will take the bus to St. Christopher's Parish. Father O'Shannahan might be able to shed some light on this Peter, Paul and Mary thing from the mothership...besides, the sacrificial wine is mighty tasty, and if I distract the father with a "Hey, is that the POPE???!!!" comment I can nab the wine and hide out in the confessional while he scurries around the church grounds. Yes, that's a good plan...it will give me time to think of a way to get the information I need without sounding like a lunatic. I'm crazy it's true...like FOX!

[Klynne]

Tuesday November 4, 2003, (Time? Distance, oh crap)

In BIG, time trouble. Have to be quiet. Hijacked bus. Not a good idea. Hiding in dumpster outside of Mc Donalds. Hungry....Hmm, wonder what is inside of this bag?

[Maggie Shamrock]

November 4, 2003

Big Mac and an Apple Pie...just what I needed! Didn't want to wait to take the bus tomorrow...the fare is a rip-off and I never have change. In the line entering the bus there is always a fat woman in front of me fumbling in her purse and a guy behind me unintentionally giving me a rectal exam with his umbrella. It was a big mistaking taking the bus though...since, well...I lost control of it and drove it down a ravine. Luckily, I was the only one aboard...luckier still McDonalds was within running distance so I was able to flee from the authorities and grab a semi-hot meal at the same time. Now if I just had some of that sacrificial...er I mean...sacramental wine to wash it down with that would be the ticket.

Well, it looks like I'm spending the night here tonight. I'll have to hoof it to the church tomorrow if I'm ever going to get the answers I need. Whoa! What's that noise???? Sounds like trouble...gotta go!

[Klynne]

Wed. November 05, 2003 9:30 p.m.

Who knew that the city empties dumpsters at such a late hour at night? First I heard a big boom, and then the sound of metal scratching on metal, then my world was literally turned upside down. The inside of the dump truck was unbearably odoriferous! This might sound funny from coming for someone that likes head cheese sandwiches, but it was rank in that garbage truck.

I spent the night in the city dump. I dug out an old mattress from a pile of refuse, and laid down on top of it and gazed at the stars. It was a beautiful night. I willed for the mother ship to beam me up, but it never happened. It was great being out in nature, and when I woke up, there were two huge rats snuggled up with me. I have a way with ladies and animals!

But I digress. I did go to the church to meet with the priest, and he said some very interesting things about my St. Peter, St. Paul and Mary theory. Oh, hold on a fax is coming through, it might be from the aliens…More in a little bit.

[rapscalious rob]

Thursday, November 6th

I forgot to tell you about the dream I had while I spent the night there at the city dump. It was really strange. I’ll admit that I’m not your usual guy, but, like most people, I often cannot remember my dreams very clearly when I wake up.

I was running through the city in that lizard costume my brother had me wearing back when I was working for him. I had to get away. Behind me, there was a police car filled with kids in freakish outfits yelling “trick or treat!” I turned a corner then turned another corner into an alleyway, where I dove into a trash can. At the bottom of the trash can was a door, Round and shiny and made of some kind of wood- mahogany, cherry, oak, walnut-- something luxurious. I opened the door and went down a long stone spiral staircase. Eventually, I found another door, more ordinary looking. I Opened it and found the office I used to work at. Michelle looked up at me and crinkled her nose. Mike, the guy I thought I hit with the fax machine said “hey, L-dog, ever heard of dog groomers?” Then he made that sign he always made at me, the “L” shape with his hand on his forehead. I was puzzled, as usual-- I don’t own a dog. The way he was laughing seemed disrespectful, so I hit him with my fax machine.

Then, suddenly, I was in my apartment. The fax machine was much larger than me, somehow, and I was trying to hide from it. It could see me, I knew, hiding under the kitchen sink. It intended to annihilate me. I peeked back at it, and saw Michelle, wearing a McDonalds uniform and talking about the upcoming presidential election. I couldn’t understand what she was saying, but the music of her thoughts and the melody of her voice made me suddenly deeply enraptured. I looked at her, standing by the fax machine in my living room, and realized that she was sent by the mother of all interconnectedness that was the strange force behind the pan-galactic, trans-modal fax transmission signals. She understood it all, better than I ever could, and better, moreover, than any human being on earth. Suddenly I wasn't under my sink. I was in a big dark room, softly illuminated on all sides, and the ceiling was open to the stars. Michelle was next to me. She said: “The possibilities enrich the probability of new beginnings within, if you can only prepare yourself to move on to the next level.”

Then I felt something warm, soft, and fuzzy near me, and heard a weird screeching sound. That was the rats. They both scurried away as soon as I awoke. The screeching was the sound of the seagulls.

I wonder what it all means.
The walk to the library was incredibly long and odious. I haven’t been to my apartment yet-- I wonder if the police will be there. I don’t think anybody that knows me saw me.

Well, that’s all for now. The person with the next internet use time slot is scowling at me. Goodbye, dear friends.

[rapscalious rob]

I got an email today from Michelle. It said that if I take these pills I will be able to increase my sperm count so I can impregnate her. I wonder-- was this email sent by the UGC? They must know about my thing for Michelle, since I’ve made it public knowledge.

BTW, I am back in my apartment. The whole thing blew over. It turns out I was taking the bus, and my mind wandered and I constructed a fantasy where I was taking over the bus. The junkyard must have been a fantasy, too. That smell is probably my lack of hygiene-- or the lingering smell from the time I tried to melt the hello kitty lingerie.

It’s so hard to separate reality from fantasy sometimes for me. My mom has the same problem.

[Klynne]

November 16, 2003

I called Michelle today to discuss the impregnation plan. She acted like she had no idea what I was talking about. She made some comments about getting a restraining order, that I needed serious help, blah, blah, blah. Maybe SHE is the one with the problem. Some sort of temporary amnesia??? She is the one that e-mailed me. Women, go figure. But then maybe it was the UGC that sent the e-mail? Nah, it had to have been her. She is crazy.

My brother and I took mom out today for her birthday. My brother is out on bail and he told me it looks like he will beat the pimping charges. He said he is going to get the rat bastard that turned him in. Kind of made me nervous. My lawyer assured me that my brother would not know it was me that turned him in. I will have to talk to my lawyer about the witness protection program.

Anyway, mom got pretty lit for her birthday. We took her to a strip club. She had about 6 voldka martinis, ordered several lap dances, and then she stripped down naked and was doing the macarena on top of the bar. Then we were asked to leave. Mom sure knows how to have a good time.

Well, I should sign off now. Have to check my e-mail and faxes.

[Maggie Shamrock]

November 17, 2003

I thought the bus high jacking was all a dream until I saw footage of the smoldering bus in the ravine I had driven it into on 20/20. There was Diane Sawyer, big as life, going on about the mysterious bus crash, and was asking was it “terrorism or just plain old juvenile delinquency” that caused the needless destruction of the bus?

It turns out that the bus was not owned by the city but a Baptist church down the street from the public transit office. Pastor Bennie Bob Brewster was pretty riled up about the whole affair and was madder than a nudist sitting on a chrome chair in summer time. I don't know what I'm going to do now....I mean, they've got the F.B.I. conducting an investigation into the whole thing. Guess I'm going to have to send a telepathic message to the mothership for some guidance.

I also figured out that Michelle was speaking to me in mothership code when I spoke to her on the phone. When she said "restraining order" it really meant "come on over"... and "serious help" meant "I need to be felt". I totally misunderstood her...she's not crazy...just very, very cunning! I left a message on her answering machine letting her know I now "understood completely" what she was trying to convey and would be over at her place at eight o'clock sharp with ripe headcheese and a bottle of mold/seed soaked in a nice, little Chardonnay. I told her I was going to bring my Bee Gee's "Saturday Night Fever" eight track to set the mood. Yeah, it's gonna be a night of romance...and sex...lots of SEX. But, uh, only for the good of the mothership and the propagation of the alien beings that inhabit her. That's what it's really all about, right?

[Klynne]

November 17, 2003

Well I packed everything up and headed over to Michelle's. There was a big moving van in front. I tried the door knob, and it was unlocked. The apartment was empty. I ran from room to room, checked the closets, and no Michelle! Than it clicked, I could follow the moving van, to see where she was moving. When I ran to the front door, the van had already left.


Michelle had left me. I sat in her empty apartment and drank the wine, and ate the headcheese. Since the stero was gone, I sang Bee Gee songs as tears streamed down my face. How could she have left me? I love her so much. I have done nothing but given my undivided attention to her.

I blew my nose on my sleeve, and decided to pull myself together, and make my way back to my place. I stopped in to the liquor store and bought a bottle of Mad Dog 20-20 to fortify myself for the long walk home. I considered taking the bus, but, I don't really trust myself on public transportation anymore.

This is where things get weird. I was walking along swigging off my bottle, and soon there was the familar flashing of lights behind me. Damn, the cops again. Despite my buzz, I was able to hop over a few alley fences, and ran into an abandoned building. As I waited for my eyes to adjust to the darkness, I sensed I was not alone.

There was a young woman dressed in several layer of clothes sleeping on a mattress on the floor. I woke her up and offered her a drink of the wine. She gratefully accepted and we got to talking. Get this, her name is Mary. She told me that she had a couple of brothers named Peter and Paul, and she also told me that she has visions. She is meant to be the mother of Jesus.

I told her about the mothership, the UGC, the aliens, Peter, Paul, and Mary, the alien spore/mold, everything. She totally understood, and thinks that we are meant to save the world. She is a true visionary. This is when I suggested that she move in with me and become my wife. We will then consumate our relationship and become parents of the messiah.

She agreed, and as I am writing this, she is taking a shower. I wonder what she looks like under all that grime? But does it matter? We are destined to be together to save the world. I am mixing up our love potion of mold and chardonnay. I have dimmed the lights and have the Bee Gees tune "Staying Alive" playing softly in the background. Quite fitting I think. Still there is this nagging feeling...How can I betray Michelle like this? Then I think some things are just not as we try to plan. Some things are predestined. Besides, it has been a long time since I have been laid, so I will push all thoughts of Michelle out of my mind. Wish me luck! Your souls will be saved thanks to me!

[Maggie Shamrock]

November 18, 2003

I woke up this morning with one mother of a hangover. The pain was so blinding I didn't notice that Mary had departed until I was desperately searching for the bottle of Excedrin on my nightstand and noticed my wallet was missing. The missing wallet caused me to frantically search the room hoping for some sign that Mary might still be there...but alas, she was gone.

I noticed my television, stereo and microwave were also absent. Damn all women to hell! Thank God I thought enough to hide my fax under my bed...I need the mothership more than ever now...what would I have done had my only means of contact with those magnanimous beings been wrenched from my fingertips?

I have to be more careful from now on. One night of fantastic sex with a semi-toothless, homeless woman is just not worth the consequences of foiling a plan that is so important to the universe...no matter how big her breasts may be...and firm...like two ripe melons...ohhhh...there I go again...I MUST focus. I am planning a day of rest and thoughtful meditation. I have not heard from the mothership in two days. No doubt they are much disappointed with my recent performance. I will telepathically send a message begging their forgiveness and plead for another sign that they still trust in me to carry out their plan. My fax is plugged in and ready to go...wish me luck, I'll need it.

[Klynne]

November 18, 2003, 8:51 p.m.

The hangover finally wore off, thank God. Took a hot shower, and then just slept it off.

I did not get a fax from the UGC. But, they called!!!!

But, yet again, it was in code. Here is how the call went:

"Hello is Mr. or Mrs X in?" (can't reveal me name for obvious reasons)

"Yes, this is Mr. X."

Them, "We would like to talk to you about your long distance service."

Me, laughing maniacally,"Oh, do you now, do you?"

Them, "Well, yes, we can offer you long distance calls for 10 cents a minute."

Me, chuckling "Really? Sounds perfect, sign me up."

Them, "Well, we just need a little information..."

Me, "I think, that you know, that I know, that you know, you already have all the necessary information. Don't you? Don't play games with me. You know, that I know, what this is all about, don't we? Tell Michelle I say hi... She will know what this all means, you sick perverts."

Them, "O.K. we have to go now."

Me, "You do that then."

I am still trying to decipher this conversation, and am wondering if I got too heavy handed with the UGC. After all, they could blast my ass off the face of the earth with one of their laser beams. I am sick of being screwed with though. Sometimes you just have to take a stand. Hope they don't kill me tonight. Pray for my soul.

[rapscalious rob]

November, 2003 4:32 PM

I’ve had this constant anxiety ever since I saw the bus incident was under investigation on 20/20. Seeing the news program gave me a deep sense of fear that tasted metallic in my mouth and made my stomach feel heavy. Sex, sleep, head cheese and communications with the mothership allow a limited oblivion to this underlying panic, but as soon as these are over, the worry creeps back in.

At the library today, I decided to research teleportation. Apparently, the latest scientific thinking is that teleportation is impossible, because it would necessitate the knowledge of the exact position, trajectory, and quantum spin on every atom in your body, and this is impossible because of something they call the Heisenberg uncertainty principle. Weird. If the principle is so uncertain, how come they can they cite it as evidence in support of anything? I mean, how can they be sure of something called the uncertainty principle? Isn’t it a little ambiguous, a little, for lack of a better word, UNCERTAIN? I decided that the UGC must be behind this so-called science.

Outside the library there was this guy I recognized. It was whats-his-face from the office I used to work at. That guy that always made fun of me. He was looking kind of shabby. I said hi, and he started talking to me. They fired him soon after they fired Michelle. The boss caught him talking smack. Next thing he knew, his girlfriend left him, because SHE caught him talking smack. After that, he did a lot of soul-searching, and decided that he needed some kind of religion, some kind of spiritual guide to lead him to the right path. So, I told him about the fax mother and the mold and hello kitty and Michelle and Mary and almost mentioned the bus but decided against it, for now.

To my surprise, he told me he had begun praying to his fax machine-- at first in hopes that one of the companies he applied to work for would fax him saying he’s hired, but later more earnestly in a sort of reverence to all faxkind: fax machines never talk smack. He then took out his fax machine from a suitcase he had with him…

I may have a convert. Or a spy. I had better be careful…

I realized that my fingerprints are on file from the time I spent at the mental hospital. I have a feeling that if they catch me, I will end up there again. :(
Until the fax mothership consciousness decides to help me with her infinite wisdom, I would certainly appreciate any finite wisdom you, my dear readers, would share with me.

head cheese. HEAD CHEEESSEE. HED Cheez. HEHd Tsheez.

[Klynne]

Nov 19

[rapscalious rob]

11/24/03 17:32

I thought I’d post some of the responses you, dear readers, have emailed me. Some are witty and some are scary, but they all have proved helpful, I think. Thanks!

Dear “Mr. Dumbo”

I know that isn’t your real name. My real name is detective Lance Shapiro, and I have been investigating what you call the “bus incident.”

Sir, if what you say is true, you are committing a slew of felonies.

If you do not come forward and admit your guilt, the long arm of the law will catch up with you. Then, with the help of “Mad Dog” Henderson, the meanest prosecuter in town, you will be doing time in a federal prison with a 300 pound guy named “Tiny.”

consider yourself warned.

Sincerely,

Lance.

[rapscalious rob]

Dear Larry:

OMG!! i love hed chees 2!!

ive ben eeting it ever since i was a child an my uncle zoltan would give it to us on those speshel vizzits. threw 4 marages and 4 divorses, throo all the pain an misry my lfe has thrown at mee, hed chez has kept me going. its like a lite that gides me threw the dark nites and the strife of life.

hugggs and ksses!! xoxo

sin-seerly:

sally2160@ballyhoo.com

pee-ess
sary about the hole bus thing. i wish u the bust of lck.

[rapscalious rob]

11/25/03

I’ve been at my apartment the past week, and have seen no police cruisers. Could that whole bus thing have been a dream after all? I feel a bit guarded about fooling myself a second time. I’m starting to really run low on cash. What can I do? Maybe Ivar will hire me as an assistant head cheese man. That would be the ideal job for me. I’ll bet employees get a discount on head cheese… maybe even FREE MEALS. Hmm.

I think Lance Shapiro is a fake. What detective says “slew,” as in “a slew of felonies?” Wouldn’t my felonies be listed catagorically?

I haven’t thought about Michelle for days. I saw her in another dream last night. I was walking along downtown, and kept looking over my back nervously for police cruisers. Suddenly I felt someone grab by shoulder with a firm, strong hand. I turned around, expecting to see a police officer, and instead, I saw Michelle.

She smiled, and said “what’s that stale smell?” Then, I looked at her face and noticed it was my own face, looking back at me. I looked awful, haggard. The hello kitty sticker on my cheek seemed ironic, against such an un-cute face. I touched the sticker, meaning to peel it off, and suddenly I heard the voice of the Mother in my head. I can’t remember what it said, but it seemed very wise and very very important.

I think it means that the answer isn’t in the mold. It’s in hello kitty. Also, I should consider bathing sometime this week.

Thanksgiving is at my brother’s house, again. Thankfully, he still doesn’t know it was me who turned him in. Unfortunately, my cousin Jerry will be there.

[Klynne]

November 25, 2003 (6:30 p.m.)

I disposed of the mold. It is of no use to me now. Why must the mother ship always change the plans? But who am I to question the mother ship as I am just a mere mortal. Today I thought more about my dream. I decided Hello Kitty definitely is the key to the mystery. But how?

At any rate, this afternoon I put on my shabbiest clothes, (didn’t bother bathing, the aroma of my body odor just added to the image I was going for) a pair of dark sunglasses, and took to the streets with a cane I stole from a blind man. I sat down in front of a busy intersection and held a sign that said “Will Work For Food”. I made $75 bucks and some odd change and did not work a stitch. What kind of sick individual would make a blind man work for food? Some joker did give me a handful of pebbles. I wanted to beat his ass, but that would have blown my cover. I just smiled and said “God Bless you”.

After I earned my cash I went to Kmart and bought everything Hello Kitty imaginable. I bought Hello Kitty sheets, comforter, drapes, toothbrush, backpack, lunch box, lip gloss, eye shadow, coloring books, and the list goes on. My apartment has become a shrine to Hello Kitty. Have you ever heard the saying “if you build it they will come”? That is my approach.

I also bought some head cheese from Ivar on my way home from Kmart. I told him I was down on my luck and needed a job. He said that he could use the extra help. He did saythat I needed to take a shower and put on some decent clothes before reporting to work on Monday. I am so lucky, I will finally have the job of my dreams.

[Klynne]

November 27, 2003.

Oh shit. That is all that I can really say. Thanksgiving at my brother's was a living fricking nightmare.

I brought a little relish tray. Nobody touched it. I made an impressive ice sculpture, it was a replica of the mother ship, and it had pieces of head cheese draped on it. Everyone turned up their noses. What do they know anyway?

To make matters worse, my cousin Jerry was there. He is such a jerk. After dessert, he challenged me to a fight. Normally, I don't like to fight, but, he brings out the worst in me. So, I clocked him with a pickle jar, and he stabbed me with his dessert fork. Then I tackled him and beat his head on the floor, until he was rendered unconsious. Mom called the cops, and I was handcuffed and dragged off to jail yet again.

Happy FVcking Thanksgiving!

[agentsmith]

nov 28

so, im looking at this really arousing hello kitty porno when who i.m.s me but the coworker i killed with the fax machine! i smile and i.m. back that im sorry and i hope his head feels better. suddenly, my nurse comes in the room and puts me back in my bed. i realize i wasnt on the computer, but i was pretending to type on my toes and staring out the window.

[Klynne]

December 3, 2003 = Jail Break!!!

The guy that I thought I killed with my fax machine, that I ran into outside of the library, and that i.m. ed me, busted me out of the hospital. Thank God! Food really sucked there (I think I am just getting over the meds, they made me have delusional thoughts. Like George Bush is the President of the United States, you know, shit like that....very, very, scary things)

He came into my room with nylons over his head and announced:

"This is a stick-up!"

I did not know if he was going to paste an air freshener to my wall or what, until I saw the gun. Then I knew he was serious.

He did not take any hostages, and we are on our way to Atlantic City. He said we can't go back to my apartment, much to my disappointment. He said the craps table is the key to all things sacred. I think he is one beer short of a six pack, but who am I to argue, he has the gun after all. More later. Once again, pray for my soul...

[rapscalious rob]

Dec. 7, 03
16:35

It’s so exciting to be on the run! I’m writing this from one of those pay-to-use-the-internet kiosks. I spoke with the mother of facsimile transmogrification, and she said something about taking the image of the one who enters from an unexpected avenue. That was two days ago. I finally figured out that it means that we should dress up like Santa. You know- he enters through the chimney (an unexpected avenue). The only problem is where to get a Santa suit. I can’t go to my brother’s-- I’m already too far away from that place, and we can’t turn around, and even if we could, the spies would be waiting there, to tie me up and give me that stuff that makes my head feel the same way my arm does when I’ve been sleeping on it for hours.

It’s nice to be on the road, running away from my problems. It will be good to not have to see the family on the holidays for once. Unfortunately, I haven’t had any head cheese in a while. McDonald’s cheeseburgers are comparable in taste, however, so I’ve been eating a lot of those.

I keep thinking about holding up a costume shop to steal some Santa suits. Wouldn’t that make it more easy for the cops to find us? On the other hand, the fax mother knows what’s best for everybody…

I can’t seem to shake this delusion that I am a telekinetically-empowered gnat. At least, I think it is a delusion. Maybe I’m a gnat in a human body? Is that possible? Maybe the Hülenberger Improbable Principle, or whatever it was, would allow such unusual things to happen.

[Klynne]

December 10, 2003

I finally asked my rescuer what his name was while we were playing craps, at the Trump Casino in Atlantic City. He looked at me and said he didn't care what I called him as long as it wasn't late for dinner. What a strange, strange, man. I told him that I would just call him Dinzdale, and he said that was fine with him.

Dinz and I did really well at the casino. We each netted about $500. When we were just too drunk to play anymore, we decided to get out of there before we lost all of our money (we were really asked to leave because Dinz kept slapping the cocktail waitresses on the ass.

Over breakfast at McDonalds, I pointed out to Dinz we could buy Santa outfits now. He told me to keep my little opinons to myself because he was in charge now. He said we needed to save our money to buy a fax machine because that is the only way to communicate with the Mothership. He said he had a plan to get Santa costumes for free.

After sleeping off our buzzes at the YMCA, we took to the streets. Dinz stopped in at the liquor store and bought two bottles of Mad Dog 20/20. I was about to open mine and take a swig and he hit me on the back of the head.

"Stop that, that is our bait."

"Bait?" I asked.

"Just follow me, watch the master," he said.

He instructed me to stand across the street and I watched him approach Santa who was ringing a bell, taking in donations for UNICEF.

Dinz showed Santa the wine, and Santa followed him into a dark alley.

Two minutes later out walks Santa but no Dinz.

Santa approached me and I asked "Santa, what did you do with Dinz?"

Santa clocked me with his bell and said "It is not Santa, stupid, It is me Dinz. Like my new costume?"

I started to cry and I asked "Dinz, how could you do that to Santa?" My heart was breaking "Dinz, how are all the kids going to get their gifts this Christmas?"

"Dumbo, there is no such thing as Santa," he said.

Then I really started to sob. Why didn't my mother tell me this?

Dinz handed me the other bottle of wine and told me to grow up, it was my turn to get my Santa costume. I refused, and ran as fast as I could. After about 10 blocks, I lost him. I am trying to catch my breath now as I sit in the internet cafe writing this. I want to go home to my place so I can contact the Mothership. I wonder if I can e-mail them? Maybe if I pull up Mothership on google, I can find their homepage?

[rapscalious rob]

12/19/03 14:33 GMT 03/FF/3G D6:03 MMT

So much has happened since my last entry. Dinz found me- and said I was a stupid schmuck for running off like that and I should grow up, for crise sake, jeezus he thought I was joking at first was I hit on the head when I was little? Anyway a couple of days later, I saw my first love. Maybe we were meant to graze each other’s paths like this, never actually touching. Maybe if we touched, the universe would implode.

Anyway, I saw Michelle again! I was in a bar with Dinz, and there was Michelle! I smiled and waved to her, but she didn’t seem to see me, so I walked up to her and said hi. She gave me “the look” and asked if I was stalking her. I said of course not, it was just the will of the Mothership that we should meet here, by pure chance, just a sign from the cosmos that our lives were meant to be intertwined. She responded to that with "be careful. My boyfriend gets really jealous." Then she turned and smiled to this very short, stalky man playing pool. He, in turn, winked and hit a ball right into the pocket. Then he said something to the others he was with and walked to her.

Michelle said to him “So it seems this guy here has been following me.” She nodded at me.

The short guy looked at me and smiled. “Listen, I understand,” he said. “She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” before I could respond, he said “but you have to understand, I’m taking care of her now. She’s told me all about you. If you do anything to Michelle, my friend over there (he nodded to a huge man at the pool table, at least seven feet tall and large) will make sure it never happens again. Capice?

I nodded, and he turned and went back to playing pool, after giving Michelle a long kiss. I decided to go back to my seat next to Dinzdale, but it was taken by a very large woman with a very red face who was laughing a lot. They rented a room in the motel that night, and I had my room all to myself. I made a beatiful drawing of Hello Kitty and knelt before it, sending a prayer to the fax goddess.

I guess my prayer was heard, because the next day, Dinz announced that we had enough money to buy a new fax machine. The next day after that, I drew up the randomized modulated multiwaveform equations according the the goddesses plans and cross-checked them while Dinz spent the day at the bar. Then I drew up a circuit design based on the equations. If only I could find someone who would be able to check my work. The only way for me to check it would be to install the circuit, which could very well result in the annihilation of the entire planet. I showed my drawing to Dinz, and he said it was “all wrong.” Then he redrew the transference symmetry fields to make them bigger. That’s when I realized that the gestalt effect of the schematics I drew made them look like a drawing of a big naked women. Dinz was just giving her bigger boobs! This leaves many questions in my mind. Does this mean that Dinz slept with the goddess last night?

[Klynne]

December 19, 2003, 10:00 PM

Dinz is an asshole. I have bought a bus ticket to go back home. How dare he sleep with the goddess? She is mine, mine, mine, I hate him. He knew how much I love her, and he screwed her anyway. Oh well, I guess that is neither here nor there.

I am awaiting for the bus to arrive as I write this...I am so confused. I have to admit that I did something bad, or was it really bad? I will let you be the judge.

After I figured out that Dinz screwed the goddess, I went out and, no, I can't talk about it. I just can't right now. Time to log off, finish my coffee, and get on the bus. Buses make me nervous. Pray for my soul....

[Klynne]

December 27, 2003,

Whew, I made it back to my apartment. The bus ride was long. The woman sitting next to me immediately fell asleep and was leaning on my shoulder the whole trip. By the time we arrived at our destination, my shirt was soaked with drool.

Christmas was interesting. I went to my mother's house, and she decided to get really p*ssed drunk. The turkey was burnt, and she was doing her best impression of Judy Garland singing "Somewhere Over the Rainbow". Fun, fun, fun, was had by all.

[rapscalious rob]

(found scrolled across a wall in the Rockford State Mens Colony. Larry Dumbo was later moved to the Rockford Institute of Mental Health)


the 176th Zarr, Critemprion Zeta Ultimus, LT910 Sector 4129776-A Mothership Time

They came to take me to the mothership. They were dressed like policemen and said something about a school bus and reckless driving or destruction of property and evasion of authority or something and the dissappearence of one Dinz Dale. I don’t remember what else they said. I just smiled and said “I know you would come. I was expecting you. What took you so long?”

They acted like they didn’t know what I was talking about. I love how they just go along with my jokes. I told them about everything, even about what I did to the Goddess-hating Dinzdale. They nodded with pretend grimness masking true elation and told me I was a rested and that they’d escort me to Jay Elle. Then some rigamarole about how anything I say can and will be used a gent’s shoe, etc. They put the communicator antennaes on my wrists and I entered their space cruisers.

The goddess is very tricky. You wouldn’t guess that in such a boring concrete structure the soul of the goddess lives in the universal kingdom of freedom. Every day I pray to my fax machine. Mr. Beale Blues has been visiting me. It seems like maybe I’ll be back in that building with all the crazy people. Not my apartment or my former job- the other one. Well, I would walk across baked broken glass for the goddess. Whatever the winds of fortune bring- the breath of my goddess- is my deserved fate.

You may be wondering how I am able to write this- haha- being, as I am, locked up, at least for the moment being, so some would believe. If I knew, do you think I would tell you? Hahahahahahaha

<---en/tz
-?(ƒ<pi>4¥??µ^ße)^(x(x(x?)))?the goddess
=CAT6-666
+2^2 + 2^1 + 2^0 + 2^(-1) + 2^(-2)
xxx moth sum
dim {abs? |?|}
soffff
%#&¥
= 1/2/(trans-9) eternity
out
or
---obfsc-1
//ent ltpfax–––>

I AM FREE!

~fin (ahorita)~

[Klynne]

February 15, 2004

I am out on the streets again. If you were not able to interpret the code from my last entry, I was trying to communicate that I am indeed free once again.

These institutions are pretty lax about security. Larry Dumbo, cannot be kept under lock and key people!!!! So, I bet you are wondering how I was able to escape. I may not be a college educated man, but I learn from observing. Remember when Dinz rolled that man dressed as Santa Claus? (Well at the the time I believed he was Santa, but the old naive Larry is gone). I did the same thing with one of the orderlies. I told him to meet me in my room after lights out with the promise of "special favors"... The dummy came into my room, and I had not been taking the pills given to me on a daily basis, (oh, they thought I had been taking them, but I can't divulge all me secrets, eyes and ears are everywhere!) so, I over powered him, and took his uniform. It was tricky getting out even in uniform. I had to assist in putting several of my fellow patients in restraints, before I was able to step out to have a "smoke break".

Freedom is wonderful. I can't tell you where I am, because I fear recapture. Lets just say it is tropical, and I get all the red stripe I care to drink. I am working as a cabanna boy, and these old, desperate, rich woman are generous, if you get my drift... I hope the mothership knows how to find me. I have made a make shift fax out of coconut shells and palm fronds. Later Mon!

[rapscalious rob]

2/17/04, 11:22 AM earthmantime (Mothership Mean Time: 1Z3R5T from Zeta Empirion)

I thought I recieved a fax last night- there was a sort of low, hollow tone, and a rustling, kind of like a fax beep and the sound of the paper feeder turning with mechanical precision. As it turns out, it was just the sound of the wind over the open bottle of Red Stripe I had parked next to me, and the rustling was the sound of the wind against the palm leaves.

Also, I met someone, who, I think, is on the same wavelength as me. She had a large scar that ran diagonally across her face, from her cheek, across her lips, and down to her jaw. In between puffs of ganja, she related that she, too, is in trouble with the law, and that she, also, believes in the concept of being transported elsewhere via the rhythmic pulse, the waves, that permeate everywhere. She spoke in an accent that was completely foreign to this place. I asked her where she was from, and she just smiled and said she’s a citizen of the world. Then she led me along a winding path towards the dock, past groups of dreadlocked Rastafarians speaking Patois, past tourists in hawiian shirts with long hair and to her boat. It was a fairly large motor boat, and there were some other men and women aboard. I was led into the cabin, which seemed larger inside than it did outside, and the boat people gathered around. One of them had a prosthetic hand. “It’s on the frontier of modern science,” he explained as I gripped his cold, dead hand. I tried to act normal, which, for me may have been a bad idea.

As it turns out, these people were introduced to me as pirates. The scar lady is their leader. I was told I would meet an untimely end if word of their presence left the boat. Then I was told of the fortunes I could make if their plan unfolds the way they envision it, and I will be able to purchase a fax machine that would be the envy of all fax machine owners.

I don’t have the means to communite directly with the goddess anymore- my decisions, for a little while, at least, will have to be guided by pure intuition. The fact that I am free in both body and mind implies that I have won the favor of the goddess. I will meet with the pirates again tomorrow, and then we will be off to wild adventure and great fortune- or death.

[rapscalious rob]

Wednesday, 4:00 pm 021804, earthmantime

Where was I? Oh, right- the pirates. Damn them!

I went out, as instructed, to meet the pirates. The dock was empty. I looked and looked, but couldn’t find the ship anywhere. Could I have dreamed the whole encounter? Is that even possible?

While I was wondering around, I bumped into someone who looked a little like the fake hand guy, but without the fake hand. “Hey, mon, watch where your going!” He said. I looked at his hand, and it was a perfectly normal hand. Maybe I was supposed to meet them on a different day or at a different time or place- I’m really, really bad at stuff like this.

Also, the fax machine I put together is gone! GONE!

This seems to be some kind of deliberate sabotage, probably by mold people from the UGC. I have to think. I believe one of the ladies I service has a fax machine. Would she let me borrow it? I’ll have to ask- I have a feeling the answer will be yes!

I’ve been smoking a lot more ganja since I’ve arrived here. It is almost, but not quite, as good as head cheese. I miss head cheese SO MUCH! When I told that to the Rastafarian guy I was smoking ganja with, he asked “head cheese? What’s dat, mon?” I didn’t have an answer.

[Dark Chocolate]

Chocolate is so much better than head cheese.

[Hyakujo's Fox]

Monday, 11:00 pm 022304, earthdate (28 light minutes past aquarius, mothershiptime)

I returned after embarking on a long and fruitless search of the docks for the pirate's ship only to find that the mysterious message "Chocolate is so much better than head cheese." had been scrawled into my diary by persons or beings unknown. I asked the other cabanna boys that I share the dorm with if they had seen anyone - or anything - tampering with my belongings. They just laughed - obviously they are fools and simpletons to a man. They had also failed to notice the disappearance of my fax machine.

I will work on the assumption that the message is some sort of clue that will guide me in a crucial moment.

Oh, one other thing - I met a girl called Honey while scouring the docks. She spoke little English, but I think she understood when I said I was waiting for someone to fax me. She said I should return to meet her on her boat later tonight.

[rapscalious rob]

Wednesday, 9:00 AM 022504, earthdate (8.5 sin-1 arcminutes past Cygnus X-1, MMT)

I had such a good time with Honey, I forgot I was supposed to be looking for my stupid fax machine. Nonetheless, Honey isn’t all sweetness. She stole my stolen wallet and all the money that was in it. That was my fax machine fund, dammit!!

Additionally, when I was pissing away my day’s earnings at the bar the other night, I saw Michelle on TV! She was in a toothpaste commercial. I thought I might have been imagining this, but later that night, the commercial came on again and yep, it was definitely her! It made me feel self-conscious, because no matter how much I brush, I cannot rub in the stains on my teeth to make them stand out more. Perhaps chocolate is the answer; I’ve heard it does an excellent job at staining teeth.

[Klynne]

Thursday Feb. 26

I had a very good day at work today. I made about $50 on the side for a woman I serviced. She was about 80, and a little flabby, but for $50 bucks, I would do anything. After hours, I netted about $3,000, a laptop and some credit cards.

After I left my lady friend, I went to the bar and saw Honey. She was talking up some old dude (amazingly in perfect English), so I patiently waited, until the bar closed, and followed her back to her hotel room. As she put her key in the door, I tapped her on the shoulder, and she turned around and asked me what in the f*ck did I want. I explained that I just wanted my wallet back, that I didn't care about the cash, I just wanted the pictures of my mom and Hello Kitty club membership card back. She said she understood and invited me into her room for a nightcap. We raided her honor bar. I pretended to drink (poured the drinks in the fake plants in her room when she would use the bathroom). She passed out and I went through her purse. I got $3,000 in cash and some credit cards. Wow, I did not know that she went by so many names. I also took her laptop upon which I just finished booking a cruise. It leaves first thing tomorrow. I need a change of scenery. Before I left her room, I wrote in lipstick on her mirror, "HA, HA, HA, got you." Moral of the story? Never mess with Larry Dumbo.

[Klynne]

March 8th, 2004

Ah, life at sea is great. After a few days of vacation, I decided to get a job. $3,000 is alot of money, but the drinks on this ship are expensive!

I am now a bartender on the main deck by the pool. I was hoping there would be some hot chicks. There are some, but they are not interested in me. I discovered after a few days that I have booked myself on a gay cruise. So much for getting any action. The people are great though.

Well, now that I won't be preoccupied with sex, I can concentrate on my task of contacting the mothership. I have made friends with Master of None, he is in charge of the office, so now I have unlimited access to fax machines and office supplies. I have made a signaling device out of paper clips, scotch tape, rubber bands and staplers. I am going to try it out tonight.

Love, Larry

P.S. my tan is killer

[Audreyvgs]

At exactly 10:35 today, all the squirrels in the front yard fell out of the trees.
I don't know whether the trees rejected the squirrels or whether it was a conscious decision by the squirrels. It could have been a sun flare or a mistral-type wind. I haven't gone out to check on them yet, I'm waiting to see if they move.






:p hahahahha this is fun!

[rapscalious rob]

Wednesday, 031004 19:34 (T.T.) | 87' 125 " 45° Alpha 5 M.M.T.

The day has been long and hellacious. There has been a good deal of yelling among both crew and passengers, and I even saw a man faint into another man’s arms. As mentioned earlier, a squirrel fell out of a tree. Specifically, there are some plastic palm trees near the starboard side of the ship, to add to the "tropical" ambience, and some squirrels fell from them. One of the men aboard happened to be a veterinarian; according to his estimation, the squirrels were dead when they hit the ground; they were poisoned by the botulism toxin. This scuttlebutt has reached the galley, where the cooks are all terrified. I obviously was a little shaken, too: did you notice the way I concluded my last entry? This has not been fun at all.

We have stopped here at the nearest port, which happened to be in Montego Bay; this opprobrious intrigue will be further investigated by detectives from the area. Right now, nobody knows if this is terrorism or just a prank. Obviously someone must have brought these squirrels.

On the plus side, at least everyone got their tickets refunded. I have a feeling that this little incident was more that a mere coincidence. It seems to be no less than the nefarious work of the United Galactic Council, that shadowy and secretive agency of massive power and corruption. It seems like every time I come close to achieving freedom, these evildoers take it away from me. I need a beer. Dammit.

[Hyakujo's Fox]

Saturday, 200403132344; Year 47, 3rd Galactic Imperial Era

The last thing I remember was getting ashore in Montego Bay and thinking I need a beer. Four days later I awoke. You might not think that strange, and I might even agree with you, but what was the strange thing was the fact that when I awoke I was still in Montego Bay! I have as yet been unable to make head or tail of this mysterious coincidence. There's a piece of puzzle missing in my mind and I think it has been lost.

Undeterred from whatever it was I was doing, I headed immediately to downtown Montego and found a burger joint (I was looking rather gaunt and I presume that I hadn't eaten recently) by the name of Greasy Kevin's. I had just taken a bite of my triplecheesenbaconnchickenburger, and was sucking on my triplechocbananathicksmoothieshake when I look down and noticed that along with my food someone had slipped me a map as a placemat. I couldn't believe my eyes when I read the legend "Find Pete the Pirate's Buried Treasure". This was the break I had been looking for! I was back on the trail of the pirate crew!

[Klynne]

Sunday March???? 2004 ( I think)

I am once again losing track of time. Why is that?

When I left the restaurant, I noticed not only did I have a copy of the treasure map, they were under other diners' plates as well. So, I figured out they were being mass produced, and I did not want all this competition for "Pete's Treasure". It is going to be mine and mine alone. So, I figured out the easy way to destroy the copies of the map. I waited until the restaurant was closed, and everyone was gone. I broke into the restaurant, and I took a gallon of Jamaican Rum (It is more flammable than gasoline, believe me!), and doused the place. Then, I dropped a match and left.

Pete's treasure will be mine and mine alone!!!! Once I have that, I can...Do something I think? I have a headache. Nothing makes sense anymore.

[rapscalious rob]

03|18|04||15:32

The map was evidently a ruse - The streets didn’t have all those curves and dead ends like on the “treasure map!”

I saw a blurb about the fire in “News of the Weird.” Apparently they are trying to make a connection with the squirrel incident and the fire, since they occurred at within only a small distance of the same temporal and spatial nexus.

ANYWAY, I guess I left the island just in time. I’m in Los Angeles, living in a hotel near Union Station downtown. THANK GOODNESS Honey has so much money for me to steal! She’s even got good credit! I bought a ticket for the train heading north to Santa Barbara later today. I went to school there once. The schizoid neurosis hit me when I was a sophomore, but at least I had the opportunity to make some friends. Unless they were figments of my imagination.

My mascara is starting to run again. Yeah; ever since I stole Honey’s identity, I’ve been pretending to be a female. It’s really difficult!! If it weren’t for my artistic skill in applying makeup, I’d be a goner for sure. I wonder if this will be awkward when I meet one of my old college buddies? Guys have been hitting on me constantly. Last night some guy tried to rape me. I kicked his ass before he could find my secret.

Honestly, I am an eyesore as a woman. Also, I keep having to fight the habit of going to the men’s room, but I feel really self-conscious in the woman’s room. ESPECIALLY when I’m washing off my makeup. I DON’T HAVE ANY TITTIES! This can’t last.

[lapietra]

03|24|04||11:57

Had a breakthrough today. Standing in the dressing room at Layne Bryant, I realized there wasn't a single bra that fit me - all too large. Also, I just can't stand pink, and it seems to be the season for it.

Putting on my old clothes again was pretty strange, but it looks like parachute pants and mesh tank tops are coming back in style. Boy, am I glad I kept everything in storage. And guess what!!! I have about 15 fax machines in storage, too!!! Interestingly enough, none of them work... I spent the entire day yesterday trying them out. I plug them in, connect them to the phone line... but everytime I punch in the number, I get an error message that says something like, "Transmission ended due to invalid number". What invalid number?? It's *always* worked before. Maybe it's because the newest fax machine was bought in 1989...
Gar. I guess I'll go out and keep looking for Pete's treasure. Maybe then I can buy a working fax machine.

[funkytuba]

03-31-2004-15-21

Originally posted by agentsmith
AoG staggers around the set, ranting and raving and eating a bit of moldy cheese he found in his pocket.

The Tuba Collective takes a look at AoG and is hit with a sudden blast of recognition!

"You're.... You're... You're Larry Dumbo!"

[DRAMATIC '60s CHORDS]

The entire set (http://zefrank.com/bulletin/showthread.php?s=&postid=136030#post136030) swivels around to see AoG peel off a close-fitting rubber mask and throw off a large trenchcoat to reveal... a Fax Machine tied around his torso, along with 69 sticks of dynamite wired up to a Toshiba VM4050.

"You people thought you were funny... setting me up with Michele, and constantly frustrating my attempts to hook up with her, feeding me stinky cheese and garlic and norweigian fermented fish, sending me fax upon fax upon fax and biblical visions and thiefs named Mary and Santa Dinz and ships and flamin squirrels changing my name and gender and honey and all of that I'M SICK OF IT! I'M SICK OF MY FAKE BLOG LIFE!!!

"So now I've found you. Yes.. don't think I don't know.. this is The Mothership. You bastards has screwed up my lives for long enuf now!

Larry brandishes the cell phone and prepares to press the code to explode himself and the studio

"TAKE THIS........................"

[Klynne]

4/01/04

Had a strange dream last night. I dreamt that I was in a world habitated by strange creatures, called Zemonkeys, and that I was part of this world, but, I was in disguise of this character named AOG.

I wonder what this means????

Anyway, it was great being back in the old neighborhood and my apartment. I missed my Hello Kitty comforter and pillows. Today I am going to try to reconnect with my mom, and brother. Maybe get my old job back in the head cheese shop.

I monkeyed around (damn, the word monkey keeps entering my mind, and the name Frank, odd) with the fax machines, and was able to connect all fifteen of them with coat hangers and silly string. This will be a strong beacon for the mothership.. Sorry, have to go, someone is at the door. Pray for my soul. Larry

[funkytuba]

4/01/04 10pm

The strangeness continues.

The person knocking on my door appeared to be a large robot wearing a gimp suit and a ball gag. Saying nothing, it held out its... hand?, and in it was a set of keys. The robot then said "Ulkosooom. Apratchkinnknnkknn. Moop! Moop! and vanished.

I walked out the front door and there, parked on the street, was a '72 Coupe De Ville.

Well..... i guess stranger things have happened

[Abby Normal]

4/2/04

Ran into an escaped Zoo elephant today. Nearly crushed my crappy station wagon. I simply swerved around him and watched as he crushed a bus filled with convicts from the local correctional facility. Started to feel bad, but then I realized that they were convicts, and had probably deserved what they got. I wonder if any of them survived?

[rapscalious rob]

April 3rd, 2004 • S-Set4^?(supersymmetric trans-structural time)

It’s as if the wrinkles of the fabric of space time converge at this point. The car and the robot. The weird dream about these “zemonkeys.” The elephant incident. I think this means I am close to something.

I went to Ivar’s today for his homestyle head cheese. At first, he started flirting with me, giving me this ridiculous smile and saying “Hey, there-- you new in town? We don’t usually get good-looking women like you here.”

I responded by saying in my normal voice: “It’s me, Ivar.”

You should’ve seen the face he made. Wide-eyed and open-mouthed, he only managed to say: “Leh! Lehlehlehleh-- Uh--” Then he looked like he was going to faint, but caught himself and said, finally: “LARRY!”

“Didn’t expect to see me like this, did you, Ivar?”

Ivar shook his head. “What deh hell’s deh madda with you, Larry? Didja have wonna them operations? Are you… his eyes widened again, and he said “You escaped! You’re assuming an identity!”

This made me nervous. My fingers twitched. If I had a fax machine, I would’ve used it.

“Okay, alright,” said Ivar. “Youse always been wonna my best custamehs. Do you have money? Don’t tell me how you got it if you have it - just gimme a yes or a no.”

“I don’t know,” I said, and wondered how much credit was left in Honey’s various credit cards, and how much I could get for my good-as-new ‘72 Coupe De Ville. Probably not enough.

“Five mil for my friend Bruno to make you someone else,” said Ivar.

“No,” I replied.

“Maybe your brother can help you. He just got out of jail.”

“Can I get some head cheese?”

Ivar chuckled. “Of course! That’s my specialty!”

…I wonder how my brother would be able to help me.

[Klynne]

April 3, 2004, 7:00 p.m.


After speaking with Ivar my mind was reeling...The possiblities, for 5 million dollars, I could be anyone I wanted to be! I could start anew, and not worry about the coppers or mental health professionals who are constantly looking for me. Sure, I am in drag, but my luck, a wind storm would come along and blow off my wig, and make my skirt billow up and reveal my true identity (I stopped wearing those control top pantyhose, and those lacey crotchless underwear really itched!).

Where could I get that kind of dough? My brother? No, he lost everything when I turned him in for pimping me out. Then it hit me! Las Vegas baby!

As I write, (Boy I am glad I got that laptop from Honey) I am sitting in the VIP lounge at the airport. Men keep sending me drinks, and as they approach me, they kind of look shocked and walk the other way ( I forgot to shave tonight before leaving for the airport). Any how, here is the plan. I have taken out a signature loan on Honey's credit for $1,000. I am going to play craps and hopefully turn $1,000 into 5 million! Isn't that brilliant?
As an additional means of income, I am going to become a show girl. I hear most of them are men in drag, so I should be a shoe in. If I have to, I can become an escort, and beat my dates up, and take their wallets. Then I will have extra credit cards, cash, and I.Ds.

Once I have my 5 million I am going to become Fabio. After the operation I will have to fax the mothership a picture so they know it is really me when they come to pick me up. All bases covered here.

Larry is a man with a plan people!

[Abby Normal]

April 3, 2004

OH FATE! What a sick hand you have dealt me.

I discovered today that I suck at playing craps. I managed to turn my $1,000 into $.50 in just three hours. I was down to a quarter, but somehow I ended up winning once, and I won a quarter. I think I'll go try to work a few drinks off the men in the casino lounge.

(later)

I am currently verrrry drunk on some concoction known as the Tequila Wallbangerrrrrrrr....I believve ittt conttaiinns Tequilllllaa and Orrrrannnnggggge juice, with Hazzzzellllnutttt liquerrr floated on topp. Mann, that stuff'll realllly get you drunk fasssttt, hahahahahaha. What amm I gonnnaaa doo?

[Klynne]

04/03/04 Very, very, late

I have just landed in Vegas, ah, the City awaits us, oops, I mean me. Damn the voices talking in my head. I am going to stick quarters in the first thing I see.

I had a horrible dream on the plane. I dreamt that I only made .50 at the craps table. It has kind of made me panicky, and a little paranoid, but, I know, with the help of the mothership I will get through this, and make my Five mill. Watch out world here comes Larry Dumbo!!!

Pray for my soul.

[Klynne]

04/04/04
I have once again lost track of reality. I have reread my entries, and I wonder if the antipsychotic drugs aren't working. I hope they have complimentary bloody marys poolside tomorrow, so my throbbing headache may be cured.

[Saxifrage]

04/05/04

Saddly when I arrived in Vegas it was closed, seems that they shut the place down at around 7:53pm every night. When I asked a man sitting on the corner how I could get to Ceasars in time for "Law and Order, the musical" He looked at me funny and told me to get a job. He must be a republican. As i walked down the strip I thought "were the hell is all the neon?" Then, much to my chagrin, I realized I was actually in Tempe Arizona trying to break into a Shop n' Save. OOh man, my head hurts. I must get to Vegas, damn it!!

[Klynne]

April 7, 2004,

Whew, I finally made it to Vegas. As The Grateful Dead once said "What A Long Strange Trip It Has Been." I had to spend the night in a dumpster in Tempe, because I had lost all my cash, I should have gotten American Express Travelers Checks. Staying in the dumpster all night provoked an eerie sense of deja vu. The night wasn't too unpleasant, just a little smelly.

The next day in Tempe, I had to panhandle for some cash. I disguised myself as a blind pregnant woman. I came up with the idea at the last minute as I was rummaging through the dumpster. I found a pair of sunglasses and a tattered pillow. I donned the sunglasses and shoved the pillow up under my dress. I found the busiest intersection, knelt, cupped my hands and wailed "Please, please, kind people, please donate to my cause, so I can have lasic eye surgery, so I can hunt down the bastard that blinded me, and knocked me up!" The response was overwhelming! I made about $100 dollars, which I quickly calculated would be enough for bus fare from Tempe to Las Vegas, and a running ton of Mad Dog 20/20. But you know how I feel about buses, So I decided to hitchhike instead.

I took off the sunglasses, and got rid of the pillow, and found the nearest truckstop. I was strutting my stuff around the various trucks, and was offered a ride by a trucker named Agent. She told me to hop in the back, which I thought was strange, because I have always heard that it is lonely on the road, and these truckers like company.

Agent opened up the back of the truck and said "Hop in skank, I mean darling, my friends need some entertainment."

"Friends, you make your friends ride in back?" she rolled her eyes and then shut the door behind me.

As my eyes adjusted to the light, I saw my fellow passengers.

"Hey, Senorita, how are you doing baby? My name is Julio."

As I looked around I estimated, there were about 50 mexicans oogling me. Then they offered me a bottle of tequilla. I took a swig, and felt that it might be a good idea to reveal my true identity after one of them pinched my ass. As I took off my wig, one of them yelled "Me Dios! What happened to your hair?" Then, well, I had to show them other things, to convince them that I was a man.

They were all drunk, shocked, and a little angry, and I feared a beating, so I told them everything. All about Michelle, the Mothership, Jamaica, the mold, Hello Kitty, my brother, my mother, and well just everything. There was not a dry eye left in the back of the truck by the time I finished my story. They especially appreciated my fear of being caught by the authorities. As we finished off the tequilla, we made a pledge to each other, "All for one, and one for all we chanted, amigos forever!"

Agent pulled over, and let us off in the desert, 20 miles outside of Las Vegas. We all bade our goodbyes, and I started hoofing it towards Vegas. Julio stopped me. "Come with me Larry, my cousin lives about a mile from here. He has a farm. You seem like a smart guy, and we could use some help training the fighting cocks."

"Cocks? Sorry Julio, I am into chicks, no hard feelings."

Julio chuckled, "No man, you no comprende, just come with me."

I followed Julio, and his cousin Raul greeted us at the farm. There were chickens everywhere! Boy, was my face red. I can be so clueless at times.

So, now I am bunked up, and ready to sleep. I am happy to report that there is a fax machine available, and Raul said I can sleep in until noon tomorrow, then I will have to go to work training the cocks. Cock means a male chicken or as the pros call them roosters, if you did not know that. Sweet dreams, Love Larry.

[Hyakujo's Fox]

April 12, 2004, location unknown

After a few days learning the ropes, I have discovered that I am a natural cock-handler.

[straymonk]

April 13, 2004. Somewhere out west?!?

You know, I sure am glad that what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas. Because otherwise . . .

Anyway, while drying out this evening, I started to read some other blogs on laptop to stave away the boredom and the DT's. I have noticed that many other bloggers offer unsolicited and often unintelligible political opinions and commentary. Therefore, I shall throw my vomit-covered, feather-topped chapeau into the political arena in the form of a question. For me, a very important question of earth-shattering proportions:

Q: Between George W. Bush and John Kerry, who is more in favor of headcheese sandwiches?

The answer to this question, I feel, will shape the political landscape of our universe for generations to come!

[rapscalious rob]

April 16, 2004 • 9:19 PM

My cock has grown very large and strong. Raúl and Julio have taught me a good deal about bloodlines, nutrition, hormone therapy, hardening periods, space, yadada yadada. The bottom line is that this damn cock gets treated like frickin royalty around here. We add rooster testosterone to its cock feed, and this blend of grains and stuff that I have to mix up in a certain proportion. That damn cock gets its own room, in a fvcking air conditioned coop. Meanwhile, I’m sweating like a pig in the sweltering heat.

Apparently I’m gonna be the one fitting its feet in a couple of days, before the event. I don’t look forward to it at all. They say I can’t knock it out with drugs because that might diminish its performance. It makes me wonder if life is worth living. That damn bird is going to gouge my eyes out if I try to touch its feet. I’m looking at the blade now: it’s made out of that new, amorphous metal. I send my prayers to the goddess.

The event is coming right up. I can’t say when it will be, but right afterwards is the fax machine convention in Las Vegas, and I want to have the mula to enjoy that convention fully.

Wish me luck. Vaya con dios-

Larry

[madasacutsnake]

April 16, 2004 • 23:47 PM

Disaster has struck. Julio and Raul have got on the tequila. Raul accused Julio of mishandling his cock and in the ensuing melee, the cock got loose and was last seen heading out to Reno.
Now I'm cockless, broke and stuck 19 miles from the fax convention with a couple of mad mexicans stoned on tequila.

[straymonk]

April 17, 2004, 1:07 AM

The tequila worm ate my cock! Help!

[madasacutsnake]

Divine grace!

The zemonkeys are having a fling in Vegas and they will surely send a car out to collect me from the cock raising farm. It wouldn't be a party without Larry Dumbo.

[Klynne]

April 19, 2004

These zemonkeys entered my dreams again. This time in a pleasant way, I dreamt that they picked me up for the fax machine convention in a stretch limo, and they paid for my room. Beautiful women were fanning me with palm fronds and feeding me grapes. Then I woke up.

Julio and Raul were glaring at me. I woke up very startled, a chicken was roosting on my face (They locked me up in a chicken coop with the hens, the bastards). They told me that they found me personally responsible for the loss of their cock, and this cock was worth about $10,000, and that I owed them big time. Guess the tequilla wore off, and they figured blood was thicker than water, or oil and water don't mix? I can't figure out their reasoning, but this whole damn missing cock thing was my fault.
I worked my ass off for these men and these stupid chickens, I tried to express this, but there was no reasoning with them.

They said I had to come up with the money or die. They left me in the chicken coop for another night. Then, the missing cock showed up. And this cock talked to me, he said, "Hey, wake up me amigo." Freaky!!! Come to find out, his name is Bruce. He is a very nice chicken, as far as chickens go. He reminds me of Michelle in some odd sort of odd way. Bruce and I flew the coop, and we are headed to Vegas. Bruce tells me that we will be Big Stars!!! Just like Wayne Newton he says. Bruce is a pretty straight up ok guy for a chicken.

You will see our names in neon lights next! Pray for us. Love Larry and Bruce.

[Saxifrage]

The fax machine suggested that my cock and I start of our number with "It's Not Unusual" by Tom Jones and follow it up with "Stars and Stripes Forever". I was a bit perplexed because I prefer Tiffany and Clay Akins but who am I to argue with the powers that be? But we still had to get to Vegas. I was being plagued by visions of rabid Zemonkeys trying to bite my cock and had to fight for its honour. These Zemonkeys had wings and looked sort of like the wicked witches monkeys from The Wizard of Oz but they were all wearing "Don't Worry, Be Happy" T-shirts. Dude, thats just not right, so I grabbed my cock and ran for it.

[lady sphinx]

April 23, 2004
2:29 p.m.

Me and my cock are recuperating at a roadside cafe and making flirtatious overtures to a snarkily blond waitress. She has taken interest in my phenomenally well-endowed cock. She is christianing it "Harry". God knows why. I need a drink, badly.

[Gatsby]

Cock has flown the coop, apparently blew his top over the blonde waitress. Fear confrontation by Raul and Julio when they discover my cock is gone. Fleeing to Mexico to look into cat juggling profession.

[rapscalious rob]

April 23, 2004, 12:12 PM

The fax machine convention is tomorrow!! To take my mind off of worldly worries, I decided to go. There was the imminent problem of how to get there from this greasy spoon in the middle of the desert. I decided to hitch a ride. As I stood out by the highway, looking around for Julio and Raúl’s big white truck and also for Bruce the rooster, I thought about how far I’ve gotten. So much has happened to me since I’ve started this blog. If I had to do this over again, I could have ended up a million miles away, on Alpha Omega Metreon in the NGC-112 system in the Sagittarius arm of the galaxy.

The whoosh of a car shooting down the highway woke me from my thoughts. It was a sleek black lexus. It slowed down and stopped 40 feet down the road from me. I walked up, and the tinted drivers side window rolled town with a soft mechanical whir to reveal a familiar face.

“Hop in,” said Michelle, tilting her head to indicate I should get in the back seat.

I opened the car and got in. It smelled new. In the front seat next to Michelle was that guy I saw at the bar. Michelle tilted her mirror, and I saw her eyes flit towards me as she asked: “So Larry. What the hell happened to you?”

“I, um” I heard myself say, trying to figure out a succinct way of describing the myriad of things that have happened without revealing too much. “I’ve run into some tough times lately.”

“Obviously,” said Michelle. The man next to him crinkled his nose as he asked me: “What is up with your face? Is that makeup?”

“Um, well” suddenly an idea for an explanation hit me. “I- I sort of got everything of mine stolen by a, um, you know, a hooker. She painted my face like this. I can’t afford to stay anyplace to take a bath.” I looked town, hiding my face.

“Reminds me of my college days,” blurted Michelle’s boyfriend.

Michelle crinkled her nose and made a tight little frown. “You never told me about this,” she said.

“happened to a buddy of mine,” he replied. “had to bail him out. Usual story.”

“So where were you hitching a ride to?” asked Michelle.

“Las Vegas. For the fax machine convention.”

“But you don”t have any money,” Michelle and her boyfriend said in unison. They looked at each other and grinned. “Jinx,” said Michelle. “You called jinx last time,” said the guy, “I should get jinx this time.”

“I know,” I said. “I hadn’t worked that part out yet. The convention is very important to me.”

Michelle’s boyfriend turned around and said: “Well, listen, we’re going to Vegas, too, which is good, because I wouldn’t want to turn this car around, so if you weren’t intending to go to Vegas, that’s where you’d be going anyway, if you get my drift.”

“Works for me,” I said.

I looked out the window at the desert landscape slipping by. Saved again. I thank the mothership.

Michelle turned up the radio. Mohler. Whatever.

Eventually we reached Las Vegas.

Michelle’s boyfriend turned around again. “You’re a moron,” he said. After a pause during which I said nothing, he continued, “But I feel sorry for you. Here.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out $300. “Take this and get a fvcking shower. Get the hell out of my car.”

I opened the door and left. I still don’t know why they stopped for me. The goddess works in mysterious ways.

[Gatsby]

Salvation in a shower, a Motel 6.

Tomorrow morning: the convention! Can hardly contain my excitement.

Am furiously review fax machine facts lest I appear unworthy in the presence of the facsimilie gods I will meet in the morning.

What shall I wear?

[Klynne]

April 27, 2004

I went to the fax machine convention today, and it was a rip roaring success. I decided to wear my little chaquita bananna woman outfit, you know, kill two birds with one stone. I needed to be at the convention, and the outfit worked well there, the men were drooling all over me, and I got a great deal on a fax machine ( I have to admit they were all a little bit liquored up, but, hey, I got what I needed and some things I did not, which were a few marriage proposals).

The outfit worked for me in a second way. In between flirting with the old drunk salesmen, I was able to run out and audition for show girl jobs. I was a hit at the Casino Royale. My impression of Liza Minelli singing an impression of Judy Garland singing "Somewhere over the Rainbow" blew their socks off. I am going to be a BIG STAR. I miss Bruce, and hope our paths cross again. He is such a wise rooster. You know how some people say Jesus saved my life? Well I will always say Bruce saved my life. Damn Julio and Raul.

Tonight, I plugged in my fax machine, and await to hear from the mothership. People, my underlying goal has not changed. I will be on the mothership by next Tuesday. Pray for me. Love, Larry.

[rapscalious rob]

April 29, 2004

More strange turns of events.

When I was behind the stage at the Casino Royale yesterday, when I heard the announcer before the show say:
“…and joining Honey Moore tonight is the inimitable Bruce the rooster!”

I went out there in front of all the spotlights and everything and there he was, my poultry pal, Bruce. The audience ate it right up like a chicken sandwich. We were a smashing success!

After the show, however, two men approached me. It was Julio and Raúl.
I have no idea how they got through security.
“Since it’s our rooster, we demand 50% of the profits,” said Raúl.
“That’s 25% for each of us: you, the rooster, me, and him,” added Julio.
“It would be the only fair solution,” said Raúl.
“Or we could expose you for who you really are, Larry Dumbo,” said Julio.

I looked down at Bruce. This is extortion! But I am an escapee.
Bruce clucked to himself.
I went along with it.

–––

Shortly afterwards, I stopped by Comp USA and got some circuit design software. I decided to resume my work on the mothership microchip.

[madasacutsnake]

Unfortunately my gold amex was refused. The spotty teenage geek computer whiz just couldn't believe that my name is Larry Dumbo. He accused me of stealing the card from the interent. I tried explaining that you can't steal an actual credit card from the internet, just the number and even then, amex requires the four digit CVN for verification which is impossible to get but he was having none of it. He said (and he had one of those squeaky, breaky teenage voices) "just wait right there sir, I'm going to get my manager" and he disappeared into a room at the back. Well, I really wanted my copper base (pure copper base materials ensure excellent heat dissipation) motherboard so what was I to do? I slipped it into my pocket and ran like hell. No extradition treaty with the mothership!

So there I am running like hell down the Strip when who should appear in front of me but Raul and Julio in their truck. "We want ze commission, you batardo banana spleet!". Teenage Mutant Com Geek was in hot pursuit followed closely by His Manager. I jumped Raul and Julio's truck and kept on running. Suddenly, out of the corner of my eye, I see Bruce. He's dressed for tonight's show in a beautiful Gabbana copy ankle length gown, manties and full make-up. I look around to see where he came from just in time to see Raul and Julio pull out straight into Teenage Mutant and Manager. Only the front wheels went over but I could tell it was bad.

I grabbed Bruce and hailed a cab. "To the Canyon! And don't spare the horses!". The cab driver was indian. He spent a bit of time explaining that he had not horses, but an engine under the hood, before I malletted him and grabbed the wheel.

Sunset found us at the very edge of the Grand Canyon. Just me and Bruce. When Vyomesh the cab driver had awoken from his beating, I asked him why he was called Vyomesh and he said it's Hindi for Lord of the Skies. I said prove it, jump over that cliff. Vyomesh got very angry and started to explain that it was an allegorical name. I said allegorical, my big fat Aunt Fanny, you can't fly, Lord of the Skies can't fly, nerdy ner, ner etc etc until Vyomesh became so enraged that he flung himself over the edge saying just watch me you anglo Mthrfu......... I missed the rest.

Anyway, so here I am Larry Dumbo, fax fancier, cabaret performer and rooster raiser with only a cock in a frock on a rock.............


(Am so sorry. That was way too good an opportunity to miss.)

[Klynne]

May 1, 2004

I stayed up all night huddled with Bruce. The desert is hot as hell during the day, but it gets downright freezing at night. Bruce, balked at first, but when I started to turn blue, he took me under his wing. We watched the sunset and looked towards the sky for the mothership.

I kept pointing saying "Look, there it is!"

"No, Larry, it is just a sattelite, no Larry, that is a star, no Larry, that is a cactus." Sometimes Bruce can be such a killjoy.

Bruce was worried that we would be fired because we missed the show that night.

"Where else can a chicken get top billing?" Bruce lamented.

"Don't worry," I told Bruce, "when a door is shut, a window opens."

"But Larry, I can't fly."

"Oh Bruce, you don't need to be areodynamic to fly, the mothership will carry us on her wings. The mothership will be here this Tuesday, I feel it in my bones." I told him.

Bruce looked at me skeptically.

"Bruce, we made it this far, nothing is going to stop us."

Suddenly bright lights blinded us and I let out a triumphant cry.

"See, " I told Bruce, "if you believe they will come, the mothership is early."

"That isn't the mothership, you idiot, that is the cops." Bruce clucked at me.

Bruce and I ran as fast as we could but, to no avail.

Currently, I am borrowing Beales (my attorney) laptop as we sit in the conference room of the Las Vegas PD jail. Beales explained the charges to me (shoplifting, hijacking, (guess that cabdriver really could fly), cruelty to animals...blah, blah, blah, the list goes on). He told me my best defense would be to plea insanity. I told him that I could never lie like that, because I am not insane, I am just a little different, thats all. Beales looked at me with a raised eyebrow. I told him to just do what he had to do. I guess Bruce is at the humane society. Hope he is doing all right.

Have to come up with a plan. Pray for my soul. Larry.

[Klynne]

May 10, 2004

Back in the mental hospital again. The people in here are really nuts. Beale talked me into taking the "not guilty" route due to "diminished mental capacity", well yeah whatever. At any rate, mental hospitals are easier to break out of than prisons, so I am grateful to be here. I would just like my old life back. The simple days of eating headcheese, enjoying my hello kitty decor in my old apartment, and my relationship with Michelle. Where did those days go?

I will just stare at these walls, and try not to strain too hard on the straight jacket. It just seems to get tighter the more I struggle with it. Don't mean to sound down, but, Hell....

[rapscalious rob]

May 11 2004 8:00 PM

Today we had recreational time. The guards paraded us down into this big room with a white linoleum floor, white plastic furnishings and fake plants. There were a couple of televisions mounted on the corners of the walls; the Montel Williams show was on. The windows were huge and sunlight streamed into the room. Outside, I could see that some people appeared to be gardening.

Some of the inmates got to use big, blunt crayons to make pictures. Others sat down in the plastic chairs and rocked back and forth, staring into space. Still others milled aimlessly about the room, muttering to themselves. One man walked right up to me and asked my name. “Hi, I’m Larry,” I told him.
“Pleased to meet you,” he said. “I’m Ümberto Arrellano van Hülenberger al Hareem Kabob.”
By the time he had finished saying his name, I had forgotten it.
“Um, hello, Ümberto, um… Kabob.”
“So what brings you here?” asked Ümberto
“Well…”
I decided to tell him everything. What have I got to lose? I told him about the mothership, head cheese, Michelle, fax machines, Bruce the Rooster, Julio and Raúl… by the time I was finished, we were being paraded back upstairs. Before the guards began escorting us to our cells, Ümberto looked over at me and said: “She sees us, she hears us, she feels us. She knows.”
I am certain that he was referring to the mothership.

[Klynne]

May 19, 2004

The mental hospital got old after a while. Currently, I am dressed in white robes and sitting on a comfy bed that is free of restraints!
I am free again! The mothership really must be watching out for me.

Umberto has proven to be a great ally. I really got to know him when we were in the nut house. Besides being a great philosopher and humanist, he is also a cult leader. Except he does not like the term "cult", he prefers the term commune. I thought the terms were one in the same, but I guess I was wrong. Umberto has really changed my way of thinking. Anyhoo, when Umberto and I were in our under water basket weaving therapy class, we started talking.

"Larry," he said to me, "I have a plan."

"I think your basket looks fine the way it is Umberto."

"Never mind the basket Larry, I have a plan on how to get out of this place."

This really threw me for a loop because I thought our situation was pretty much hopeless. This place was like Fort Knox.

"What is the plan Umberto?"

Then Umberto laid it all out. He was the head of a cult, oops sorry, commune in a small town outside of Tempe. Although their leader was gone, this commune was still fully operational and very powerful. The female members of the commune had moved to Las Vegas after Umberto was institutionalized, and they began to date staff members of the mental hospital, specifically the physchiatrists.

"Larry, these quack Docs are under their spell...."

I thought Umberto was full of shvt.

"Pack your bags Larry, we are leaving tomorrow."

I prayed to the mothership that night, and she told me that Umberto was probably full of shvt, but to pack my bags anyway, so I did.

When I woke up the next morning, my therapist came in my room with a big smile on his face, and his eyes looked a little glassy.

"Good news Larry," he said, "You are leaving today."

He made me sit in a wheel chair (hospital regulations I think?) and wheeled me outside. Umberto pulled up in a big limo with 5 beautiful women, and off we went. They blindfolded me, because they said they wanted to suprise me. Hell, they could have thrown me in the trunk, I was just so happy to have my freedom.
And no hassle, someone else did all the work.

Got to run, it is time to go listen to Umberto speak and meet my fellow commune members. Love, Larry

[Klynne]

May 8, 2004

I am ready to leave this place. Umberto was pretty cool when we were in the nut house, but here at the commune, he is an ego maniac, and a little selfish. Don't get me wrong, the living conditions are top notch. I have my own room, and the food is fantastic. We raise our own goats and have fresh cheese every day. It isn't exactly as good as head cheese, but is a close second. I am in charge of the goats, and the goats and I have an excellent rapport.

My major beef is the no sex rule. Umberto explained that it keeps us spiritually pure. Umberto and I are the only males present here. So, what I wonder if there is no sex allowed, why are half of the women pregnant ? I think Umberto makes the rules, but does not follow them. What a hipocrit.

He also has forgotten all about the mothership. The first night I was here, he promised that the commune would work vigorously to erect a beacon for the mothership. He has not mentioned it since. Time to move on. I have to find my street clothes before I go. I think the robes will attract unwanted attention. More later, Love Larry.

[Klynne]

Damn, I looked at the calendar and it is June 8. I am losing track of time in this place....

[funkytuba]

6/26/04

ok... i'm weirded out.

I invited my brother out to the commune. Things had started to get dull and I just knew that he would be able to get me back on the right track.

Problem was, I didn't know the address of the place. I asked Umberto for it so I could send it to my brother. First he asked me how I could think about bringing an outsider here. Then he steadfastly refused to tell me where we were. It wasn't until a week later that I came across an old feed bill lying around that had the address. I faxed it to my brother.

So he came out. I met with him at the gate. He says to me "Dude... you're in a prison farm halfway house." I looked at him and told him about the commune and its principles and rules... he pointed to a sign next to the road. It said in 18" high letters "HUBERT CABOT CAPRINE DAIRY FARM AND CORRECTIONAL REINTEGRATION FACILITY -- STATE OF NEVADA"

Damn... I've been enslaved in a forced labor camp for more than a month. Umberto, aka Hubert just wanted another male body to do the chores. All his empty promises about beacons and the food wasn't really that great anyway. Time to bust out of this joint and find some others that know of the mothership.

[Klynne]

7/7/04

I am on the road again. It took me awhile to figure out how I was going to get out of that "commune". After my brother left Umberto kept pretty close tabs on me, so I knew he would not allow me just to walk off.

I took to staying awake at night and searching the compound for anything that might aide me in my escape. I found, hidden behind a fake wall, a stash of pharmaceuticals and $50,000 in cash (thank you God). There was a ton of viagra, and some sleeping pills. I took the sleeping pills and mixed them in the goats milk that was in the refrigerator. The next morning after breakfast, everyone was declaring how sleepy they were. Once everyone was out cold, I found my street clothes, changed, and left via horseback. Once I got to town, I used a pay phone and called the FBI to inform them that Umberto had an arsenal of weapons, and that he was known to make comments such as "I am the messiah, and I am going to take over the world." No, he did not really say that and there were no weapons, but I wanted to get that lying SOB back.

I am currently riding in my newly acquired school bus, typing this on a laptop that I bought. I hired a driver named Frank. He is the owner of the junkyard I bought the bus from. He is driving me to the airport, I told him that he could keep the bus once we get there. Frank is a good guy, he isn't asking any questions, even when I asked him about getting a private plane to fly me to where I need to go. I think the heat has died down in the neighborhood, so, I am going to fly home, and check on my mom and brother. After paying the private pilot I should have about $40,000 left. After visiting my family, I am going to fly to Alaska, and set a beacon up for the mothership.

I can't wait to go the the local deli and get some head cheese! Pray for my soul. Love, Larry

[rapscalious rob]

7/16/04

It feels really weird to be back at the apartment I once called home. On one hand, it feels natural, since I once spent so much time here. On the other hand, because I have been on the run for so long, I have this lingering sense of paranoia, like I shouldn’t be here.

My brother and I met at the airport. As he drove me to the apartment, he said “good to see you back. How long are you staying?” “Oh, about three weeks or so. I have a job offer in Alaska, and it looks good.”

I was glad for the easy opening. No questions about where I had been or what I had been doing. The rest of the conversation was spent on why I would want to move to a frigid, isolated place like Alaska. “All that cold,” my brother kept repeating. “It will kill your brain cells.”

The next day, I spoke with Ivar for a while. He was surprised to see me again. He mercifully did not ask where I’ve been, what I’ve been up to, or why I am not in drag like I was last time we met. Instead, he just asked a simple question which I could answer easily: “the usual?” My enthusiastic reply was yes.

My next stop was mom’s house. On the way, I enjoyed the simple pleasure of a head cheese sandwich. I realized that one of the main reasons I was put on this earth was to enjoy head cheese sandwiches.

When I arrived at my mom’s house, she seemed only vaguely aware that I had been gone in the first place, and asked me how my girlfriend “That one, you know, Chanelle, or was it Chelle or Mary or Melinda?” was doing. There was only ever one woman in my life. Michelle. “She found another guy,” I said. She never noticed what was right there. I sighed at the firm denial of what could have been. “Well, she doesn’t know what she’s missing, honey.” “Thanks, mom,” I said, thinking, “Damn straight.”

I was amazed to find my fridge was still in the apartment. I thought it would have been seized. There was a clear plastic container with something fuzzy inside. I picked it up and looked at it from a variety of angles, wondering what the mold covered, before realizing that it was a container of leftover mold. Is it possible for leftover mold to go bad? I think if anything, it could only get better. I made a note to myself to get a small plastic bottle for the mold, to bring with me on the journey.

I have been poring over these books on experimental circuit design and some other books I got at the library. Most of them had to be sent from other libraries and took a while to get here, but it was well worth the wait and the small fee to get them. I have been practicing my astral projection and lucid dreaming. I have been tuning the radio to static, and translating the codes I hear amid the chaos. I think that soon this design will come together. Already, I can see the Goddess, reaching her hand out to me, communicating to me through the life of every cell in my body.

Infinity of worlds
unfolding in every atom
of exploding sound, crackling
beneath my consciousness, like dry leaves
crackling underfoot. A rush of winds screams past
my ears shuddering with the infrasonic sequence of waves
like the undulations of ripe pleasure that pass through my body
when I eat a head cheese sandwich…
this is the voice of the goddess.
The pulse of the universe.


Maybe we will meet again.

[slurpeedemon]

Dammit. I want a cheeseburger and all I have is pennies.

[Klynne]

August 6th, 2004

Wow, just read my last entry. It was quite trite, and I apologize. I don't even remember writing it. When I was decoding the radio static, the message I received was to ingest some of the mold that was in my refrigerator, so I did. At any rate, I ended up with a case of the munchies. I was able to scrape up 99 pennies, and I remember walking into Wendy's, but the rest is a blur. I woke up the next day, smelling like french fries, with a dull throbbing in my temples, and a hot naked girl sleeping next to me.

I thought to myself "God, what have I done now?" Well there was only one way to get to the bottom of that mystery. I turned on the morning news, and sure enough, I am in the middle of a controversy once again.

According to the video footage, I walked into Wendy's and demanded a Big Mac. The girl taking my order kindly explained that I was in Wendy's and that Big Macs were not available. I stuck my hand in my jacket pocket, so it looked like I had a gun, I jumped over the counter, and told her that any fool could make a Big Mac, and I demanded that she take me to the kitchen. I told all of the staff, that they could leave if they did not want to be shot, so they willingly left. They were all high fiving each other. One young man can be heard and seen on the video footage (shvt I did not know they had security cameras by the grills, but I guess I did not know much of anything that night) saying "Fvck, finally a night off."

They left, and I can be viewed making a Big Mac. I improvised, I am good at that. The cashier I was holding hostage took a bite, and proclaimed that my burger was awesome. We then closed the joint early and left. She is with me now as we head to Alaska. She said that she would rather go to Alaska then go back to that hell hole otherwise known as Wendy's.

At any rate, at the end of the news story, they interviewed some of the employees. One of them said, "He is a hero, I can't tell you the last time I was let out of work early. I went to a club, picked up this girl, and got laid for the first time in six years."

The store manager stated that he is trying to find me so he can duplicate my Big Mac recipe.

The police stated that I am a nuisance to society, and put out an APB on me.

At any rate, that mold is some potent stuff. It should be able to aide me in my quest to make the beacon for the mothership. It opens up my mind to everything that is possible in the universe. More later, love, Larry.

p.s. pray for my soul

[rapscalious rob]

08/08/04

I am writing this from a hotel room. All those hours on the road really wear me out. Yeah, I decided to drive instead of flying. It just felt right, and also wrong, in all the right ways. I will need to save up my cash to pay for the chip design. The girl is in the shower right now. I can’t believe she agreed to go with me. Working at Wendy’s must have really sucked!

I had this thought a while ago. About my quest. Maybe it is kind of selfish. Other people should get to commune with the mothership, too. So I was thinking I should start a church. The problem with that is that I want to blend in with the mothership, and starting a church will take all kinds of time and stuff. Maybe this girl will do it for me. If I impregnate her, her offspring would be heirs to the prophecy, and would thus be prophets of the mothership. I would be easier to worship as a bringer of truth were I not present.

She is getting out of the shower. Gotta run

[madasacutsnake]

This will be a short entry because it is uncomfortable to sit for long periods.

Turns out the girl from Wendy's was meat and two veg. And he had found the leftover Viagra from the compound.

So anyway, after I got back from buying a rubber ring to sit on, the shemale was gone. I asked after him at reception but they said that he climbed into a truck with a couple of big mexican fellows and that was enough for me. I was a bit disappointed at first but then my thoughts turned to Alaska and the mothership.

I decided that in lieu of the APB, I should probably try and head out of the country. I faxed the Business Machine Repair Centre (BuMReC) in Fairbanks and let them know that I would not be coming as arranged. They were reasonably professional about it and said that they agreed that it was an unusual circumstance, but that they there at BuMReC had heard worse excuses. Nice really. I've saved the fax and I'm going to put it in my CV.

I've counted my money. After paying for the motel room and rubber ring, I have $49,968.98.

[madasacutsnake]

I took the last of the pills from the compound but all they did was give me a raging stonk on then make me pass out. When I woke up I found I had had sex with the fridge seal and the motel manager was demanding I pay for a new fridge. I told him I didn't have any money and he threw me out.

I decided to just drive wherever the road took me, as long as it took me toward the mothership. I had had enough of this fly by night lifestyle that has become the world of Larry Dumbo. If the cops caught me, I didn't care, I just wanted it to be over, one way or another.

Suddenly, Jefferson Starship came on the radio. I knew it was a sign! After that they played Walk like an Egyptian. I knew that was a sign too, so I immediately stopped the car and walked around like an egyptian. I felt refreshed after that and looked forward in anticipation to being amongst other superior beings.

I started the car again - I seemed to be on an interstate highway but it was dead straight and oddly, heading straight toward the setting sun. I felt strangely alone yet as one with the cosmos. Suddenly I knew, as surely as I know my name is Larry Dumbo, that the mothership was behind the sun! I was so thrilled with this revelation that I called out loud "Wait for me, I'm coming, I'm coming!" and I even hit the speed limit as I floored it toward the great star.

Then it happened.

Like the six horse riders of the Apocolypse, only slower and not as horse-like, (and there was only one) the mothership appeared from behind the glorious golden orb. She was all and more, I had ever imagined. I cried. I stood on the bonnet and cried and waved. And cried some more.

It was all worth it. Michelle. Head cheese. Bruce. Umberto. Even Raul and Julio. All of them and the lessons they had taught me had led me here just as the mothership foretold they would.

I raised my arms toward her and watched her come closer and closer. I called out "Great silver cigarette in the sky! Oh promised land, I am yours!" She was directly overhead when the great doors of her underbelly groaned open. I prepared myself to be beamed into her wonderous motherbelly. I said a small prayer of thanksgiving and bid adieu to the world as I knew it.

I looked up just in time to see an arsenal of weaponry loaded, locked, and cocked. At me.

A huge booming, echoey voice rang down and out; "Laaaaarrry Duuumboooooo?!" I knew it was the very voice of the Mothership.

"It is I, Larry Dumbo, the Chosen One", I answered joyfully. Well, I would have but I didn't get past "the". The rest was drowned out by the hail of automatic gunfire. At first, I thought I heard the Mothership say "Kill the little mofo!" but I know I must have been mistaken.

I've thought about this a lot and now I'm sure that she said "He has excellent mojo!".

[Coffee]

Of course I was stunned when the mother ship opened fire on me. I was rooted to the spot on the bonnet. I don't know why I'm calling the car hood a bonnet all of a sudden...I wonder if I fell asleep while watching an Australian program on the Discovery channel last night at the hotel...but I digress...
I realize now that the mother ship was either testing my resolve or else they have really screwy technology priortities on the Mother planet. Here they make ships capable of crossing the vast dark reaches of interstellar space and yet they make bullets out of styrofoam pellets. Perhaps styrofoam is a deadly poison to the Mother race...perhaps they just wanted to test my courage. Well frankly I crapped my pants when the guns opened fire and was rooted to the spot unable to run or dodge the hail of "bullets"/"styro-peanuts". After what seemed like a half hour barrage from the mother ship I was virtually buried in pellets, but it was probably no more than 30 seconds to a minute before the barrage stopped, at which point the mother ship closed it's doors and flew off towards who knows where...somewhere to the south. I thought I heard the mother ship say "Holy Betelguese these *untranslatable*s are tough". I believe that chance, perhaps fate and certainly shock, allowed I, Larry Dumbo to impress the Mother Race with a feat of extreme courage thereby proved that I am in fact the Chosen One. I believe they want me to continue to remain here till I can create progeny to carry on the Mother race religion. But one day I shall be taken to *untranslatable* to represent the very finest of the creatures of our planet Earth.
Unfortunatley the state troopers that came onto the scene shortly thereafter were not impressed with the millions of styro pellets all over the road and road side and told me to pick it all up or go straight to jail. Remembering a trick I learned as an adolescent, I took a bucket out of my trunk, (or is it a boot...gaah i'm confused...must be lingering effects of the drugs) and put an ounce or two of gasoline in it and proceeded to dump pellets into the bucket. The pellets disolved into a green goopy and very flamable gelatinous mess and I was able to remove all of the pellets from the road. Then the troopers arrested me for making napalm without a license and hauled me off to the local jail where I am currently writing this while my bail arrangements are processing. I'm just thankful I didn't get a littering ticket...I would hate to have that on my record.

The jailers are coming back...More later when I get back on the road.

[madasacutsnake]

Sept. 4th

I'm looking out the cell window and now I see clearly that the troopers' cars have hoods and trunks. Not bonnets and boots. Curiouser and curiouser.

I'm bored so I have set up my fax machine and have faxed BuMRec and let them know about the new car part names. I thought that they would be very interested.

[joppa.gal]

Sept 5th 3:00 AM

I awoke in the night with the sound of a squeak and a thud. A rat had found the Viagra stash, taken a bite, stiffenned solidly, and crashed to the floor. I used it's teeth to saw out of the jailbars, combed my hair with the little claws, and picked the mate's lock next to me with the rat's tail."Hobo espanol?" I asked the swarthy man, diligently crafting my speech. He punched me in the mouth and took my rat. The world swirled black.

I awoke with a string of drool from my lips to the floor.

[Coffee]

Sept 5th 8:57 PM

I'm sending this message via email from a Motel 6 about a 14 hr drive south of the jail. I'm really really tired from all the driving today so I'll keep this short before I head to sleep.

After pulling myself off of the jail floor I noticed a tall thin man with pointy ears intently studying a beeping and flashing device slung around his neck.
I asked him if his box could send a fax for me. But he just raised an eyebrow at me and said "Sir, I regret that this device will not perform that particuar function. Please do not disturb me as I am very busy trying to fix a host of fictional threads that have somehow manifested themselves into reality" "I apologize for intruding into your thread space, but the Do Not Reply Thread where I had been operating has gone innactive and I simply must complete my mission or the entire fabric of reality might come unwoven releasing all manner of dangerous fictional elements into normal reality...excuse me as I return to my work". He returned to his work.
Although my idetic memory, which I seem to have gained after the mothership blasted me with styro pellets, allowed me to quote verbatim what the pointy ear guy said, I have no clue what he meant. I left him alone and left the police station. No one was in the offices outside the jail so I was able to just walk out. Curiouser and curiouser. My car was in the impound lot and fortunately the keys were in the ignition. I headed in the direction I think the Mothership went hoping to catch up to it. More later after I sleep for a bit. I think I'll just have a drink from the no host bar here in the room before I go to sleep. Cheers.

[joppa.gal]

Curiouser and curiouser. As I opened the no host bar in my room, it was a purple padded portal into a large, winding tunnel- kind of like the inside of an umbilical cord- I should know as I have a doctorate in Fetal Studies. Lights blinked on and off through the thin pink membrane and I couldn't help but enter into what I hoped was a passageway for the Mothership. A cool, deep woman's voice breathed unintelligible vernacular about my ears- but muffled, as if covered by a thick blanket. I reached my hand out and touched the wall of my confinement- heat pulsed from the purple threads running deep within the translucence.

I breathed deeply the moist air and stepped ever faster, the throbbing of the air around me and the woman's voice matching the tambre of my heartbeat. Ships often buzzed my tunnel, blinding me with light through the thinner areas of the membrane wall.

I saw a message tattooed further along the way on my right. I stretched the wall thin as to make out the message, and waited for a ship to pass so I could be equipped with enough light.

*Shirley Maclaine was Here*

I saw a large basin and jumped in- there was a light coming from cracks of dried floor-like material. I guess the light had caused the membrane to age, I thought as I looked up toward the ceiling. Where the light hit, the pink had tuned to grey ash.

I dug my fingernails into the cracked floor and started to peel towards the light.

That was two hours ago. When I could see.

[Klynne]

September 23, 2004

My memory of the past few days is gone. So, today I spent most of my time drinking complimentary coffee in the lounge of the Motel Six reading the events of the past few days. Wow, inhaling all that napalm really messed me up. It appears that I have been halucinating or having wild dreams. It is time to move on. I received a fax from the mothership today. It said "Get Away, Take an Alaskan Cruise." Today I purchased tickets.

[joppa.gal]

Sept 27, 2004

The tickets were buy one get one free. Soooo, I had to find somebody to ask to the cruise. I decided the next lady I saw would be the lucky one, and right as my mind made up there was a knock on my door.

"Housekeeping want mint on pillow?"

She seemed aimicable enough and not too atattched to the job, so we packed bags and set off. I think her name was Charlene. She made a mean bed.

[madasacutsnake]

October 27th 2005

I'm very cold. I'm not sure how I ended up on this iceberg.

[Hyakujo's Fox]

October 27th 2005

Penguin again.

[dddrum]

October 27, 2005

Those damned penguins.

I followed that penguin I'd spotted earlier, as he waddled around to the other side of the berg. As I suspected, he's been stashing his fish in that crevasse that looks a little like a fat mailman delivering a bassoon. (Good thing I invented that game, or I might never have noticed it.) I waited more than twenty minutes while he rearranged the stash... stacking them, lining them up in rows, organizing them by size, by color, by piscine variety. Meanwhile, my stomach was attempting to wrestle me to the ground. "They're only FISH!" I wanted to scream. "You're just going to eat them!" But he wasn't, I decided then and there. Those tasty, tasty fishies would be mine.

As I said, it was half an hour or so before some other penguinny thought crossed his tiny bird brain, and he went scurrying along after it. I leapt from my hidey hole, raving with hunger, grabbed the fattest, most delicious looking fish my arms could hold, and turned to flee.

It was the eyes that I saw first. Dozens of eyes, beady and unblinking. Holy crap, I thought. This crevasse was some sort of regional distribution center for penguins. FishEx, you might say, though I did not. There was a long moment, during which I was acutely aware of the pungency of the haddock that I was clutching to my pounding bosom. Then came a stirring, spreading like a tsunami through the assembled ranks of flightless waterfowl. With a deafening cry, the shining black wave of avian vengeance broke over my frail, tumbling form.

I awoke in an eerie, cold silence, battered and bleeding. Something cold and wet was stuffed down the front of my trousers. At first I thought that it might be my worst nightmare. But it was only a bream.

[Master_Jedi]

october 27

if those damn penguins dont stop i will friggin' eat them for dinner!

[dddrum]

October 29, 2005

Penguins aren't that bad, actually. Though they're a little chewy when eaten raw. Wish I still had some of that napalm.

Good thing I found the umbrella, anyhow. I can't imagine how an umbrella came to be on an iceberg full of penguins, but I found that if I take it and hunker down in that crevasse that looks like a sort of camel-ish giraffe, when a lone penguin toddles by, I can leap out and just whomp the piss out of it. I find it oddly satisfying. Though the drumsticks are really tiny.

I think I saw an airplane a little while ago. Something up in the sky was gleaming in the sunlight, anyway. But when I shielded my eyes and squinted, I couldn't see anything. I think I should try making some kind of signal, just in case somebody's looking for me. That is, assuming that being found would be a good thing. Then again, just about anything would be preferable to penguin sushi. Wish I still had some of that soy sauce.

[Marcus Bales]

October 29, 2005 - later

Okay, I think a little too much raw penguin is a lot too much. I'm streakin' the flanks of the crevasse with bloody urp and diarrhea and jesus! it stinks. If I could move I'd be moving to that hartebeast-ish warthog shaped one, but every time I exert myself, all that happens is another bout of ick coming out of one end or the other, sometimes both. Oh my. Excuse me a moment.

Okay, that was a particularly nasty one. Perhaps that's the worst of it. What's this?

Perhaps not. A freaking huge walrus is sniffing around about 10 yards away at some of the projectile vomiting that sort of got away from me earlier ... and now he's heading this way. Christ, look at the size of those tusks. And my god he must weigh two tons.

[Master_Jedi]

10/31

okay, eating two tons of walrus was going a little to far, but dammit thy're tastey.

[Master_Jedi]

11/13

Now i really wish i had some mouth wash. Oh and the Penguins are back. They do resemble the ones from Madagascar, but its probably all the walrus blood i have been drinking.

[Master_Jedi]

12/17

is my brain lost, i swear that these humungo things swept down and blew me up and these dolphins were singing

[dddrum]

My, what a bloodthirsty dream.

Oo, look. It's Christmas! I feel a new man! I believe I'll fling open the window and sing carols!

Oh, boy! You there, lad! No, not you, ya wanker! The other touchhole! Yes! Do y'know that penguin in the butcher's window? The one as big as a piano? Well you can stuff it in your arse, you ruddy-cheeked young hooligan!

Hooligan? Youligan!

My, I'm giddy. Jack Frost broasting onnnnn an open fiiiiire... chestnuuuuts crackling innnnn his toes...

Joyooks know well! :rolleyes:

[Klynne]

January 21 (maybe?)

What a long strange trip it has been. I have been rescued. It all makes sense now, but then everything makes no sense. How did I end up on the ice float, why was I covered in blood?

I was rescued by a crew of Russian fishermen. I don't understand them, they don't understand me, and I don't remember anything, except my name, a disk shaped object, and a rooster. Oh, and this irritating song keeps going through my head "Michelle, My Belle". What does this all mean?

Pray for my soul,

Larry

[brightpearl]

May 9, 2007

Sorry it's been so long since I posted. I didn't lose track of time; I just needed some space. I started to feel trapped by it. But I've been through so much, and this blog was the only thing that kept me sane.

I want to give back, you know? So I'm going to post more regularly now.

My time in Russia did me good. I got a little tired of cabbage, but the zakuski are amazing. The old ladies there hold a sugarcube between their teeth as they sip their tea. There's a metaphor in there somewhere. I'll let you know when I figure out what it is.

I guess the biggest change in my life since last year is that I've been diagnosed with a severe allergy to head cheese. If only there had been public service announcements about how the two main symptoms of Severe Head Cheese Allergy Syndrome are swollen lips and elaborate psychoses that center around fax machines. There's a metaphor in there somewhere. I'll let you know when I figure out what it is.

Maybe I should start a foundation for other sufferers.

Sometimes it's hard to resist eating it. I mean, I used to love it so much. But I just can't go through that hell again. Having swollen lips all the time was murder. There's a metaphor in there somewhere...

Oh, wait. It's already a metaphor.

I'm still not sure I can find meaning in my life without head cheese. There's only so mcuh bologna you can eat before you start wanting to hit someone with a fax machine, you know?

But it means a lot that you all are out there, reading this. I just take it one day at a time.

Maybe I should write a bologna cookbook. Let me know what you think.

[Marcus Bales]

Wednesday

The flatulence has started again. At first I could control it as usual by backrouting to storage in my sinuses, but when after a few moments the pressure started popping the polyps, and the gas forced the thick greenish mucous through my eustachian tubes and out my ears. Ordinarily that would have been pretty cool, but my girlfriend thinks it's gross to catch me standing in front of the mirror watching stuff come out of my ears, so I had to stop that by resorting to the simple fart mechanism, and then she left anyway. Women.

[Hyakujo's Fox]

Later Wednesday

Yes dear reader, I've let the ball slip haven't I? I had a girlfriend, and Michellana Penguinova was her name, at least I think it was, my Russian was never that good. She wasn't what you'd call a beauty, far from it, and when she kissed me her beak would often make my lips bleed. She was one of the crew that found me on that bleak berg. I was so delirious at first I tried to fight her off with an old walrus task, but her feminine wiles soon had the better of me and we spent many happy weeks lazing on the berg as the fishing boat towed us toward Vladivostok.

Upon arrival there, we checked into a little hotel by the waterfront. Happy days dear reader, happy days. Each morning I'd awake to find Michellana had already made her way downstairs and was taking an dip in the hotel fountain, as is the Russian custom. It was a lovely fountain with many goldfish, but unfortunately these seemed to disappear during our stay. Presumably some of the local cats had been at them.

To cut a long story short, one day we decided to pay a visit to the municipal zoo, and that's where she simply disappeared, without a word, without a goodbye. Not even a peck on the cheek. Needless to say I was heartbroken. When I got back to the hotel all her things were gone. But that was her style, she lived for the moment and our moment had passed. That afternoon I boarded the train for Moscow.

[Marcus Bales]

The Siberian Express, dear reader, is no longer what it once was, not even with a fairly fat wallet from delivering a rare animal specimen -- the service, in particular, is slow, and the food is just not up to standard. For example, for my first dinner, the Chilled Oysters on the half shell with Mignonette Sauce, the sauce was too salty -- perhaps the cook had forgotten or did not know that adding the juice of the shucked oyster means you need not add much salt to the sauce. The Steak au Poivre was also too salty, as if they'd used salted instead of unsalted butter. The potatoes in the Petites Pommes de Terres Anna were undercooked and too thickly sliced -- a peculiarly unpleasant combination. The wine selection was thin, but I was pleasantly surprised by an American reisling from the St Michelle winery in Washington state. I think you can see, dear reader, what I mean about slipping standards when the best part of a French meal is the American wine!

First class in the spalny wagon, though, turned out very satisfactorily, though. The sheets were as clean as linen gets in Russia. And so on to Khabarovsk.

[harrier]

Dear Doggy,

I was sitting on an aircraft today, reading "An Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge" when I noticed my window darkening. I looked out to see a round shaped disk, surrounded with flashing lights frighteningly close to the plane and approaching quickly. I screamed, though you wouldn't have heard it if you were sitting next to me, due to your own screams and the screams of every other passenger on board. The flight attendants fruitlessly waived their arms in an attempt to get our attention, but they were overran as everyone rushed to the left side of the aircraft to view the threatening object.

The screeching dinosaur cry of tearing metal careened into our ears as the two craft became one. The next moments were a blur as mucous covered moss-colored mangy creatures pullulated into my field of view. I felt raw meat kneading my arms, seeping under my skin. Then the burning started. My bones were on fire, my eyes watered, I couldn't scream any more. I collapsed. As my life waned, an indescribable greenish object leaned over and blubbered "You're coffee, ma'am?"

[brightpearl]

10am

Oh, I shouldn't have had that head cheese sandwich.

[brightpearl]

Well, the effects of the head cheese have worn off, finally. The doctors say that the twitching should subside within another week or two.

That's the last time I fall off the wagon.

I've been passing the time between benadryl injections by watching children's daytime tv. When did it get so psychedelic? That stuff is freaky on a stick. "HR Puffinstuff" doesn't hold a candle to "Boobah," which features brightly colored aliens, resembling nothing so much furry LED-encrusted dancing penises. I kid you not -- their heads retract into their weird foreskin-y necks. The first time I watched it, I spent several hours at the ER trying to convince the staff that I'm allergic to benadryl.

No child of mine, I tell you. No child of mine. When I have kids, they're going to watch only what I watch, so we can talk about it for their edification. Art films, with some sort of actual concept to them, like Planet of the Apes. Or Shaft.

I think I'd make a pretty good dad. Does anyone know how much orphans are per pound these days?

[Veruki]

17-May-2007
A lot of catching up to do today, so here it goes…
I was on my way to the unemployment office, when the most glorious thing happened. I had decided to cut through the zoo and stopped but the penguin compound for old time’s sake.

That’s when I saw her, Michellana! I recognized her right away, those perfectly pedicured webbed feet of hers were painted in her signature color; Artic Crab White. It was a dead give away! At first she seemed to have not remembered me, but just as I had given up all hope when she flapped her flipper 16 times in the water. It could only mean one thing, she wanted me to go to the alley on 16th ST.

I promised Michellana I’d be back to rescue her from the oppressive wrath of the slave drivers that had imprisoned her. It’s a shame that guy at the entrance snapped my picture and asked me never to come back to the zoo. I think they were on to us.

I hurried over to 16th ST and turned into the alley. There in the center of the alley was the most beautiful sight I had ever seen. A rat eating a piece of moldy head cheese while perched on a fax machine. Oh but not just any fax machine, no, it was a Hello Kitty fax machine. How many more signs does a guy need?

Picked up the fax and rushed home after a quick stop to Ivar’s to restock on head cheese.
When I got to the apartment there was a red eviction tag on my door. No worries, I’m positive the mothership is near. Good-Bye crusty apartment, hello sexy tentacle alien girls!

I pulled out the mold from my fridge, (it was CHEESE-oholic anonymous, no one said I had to stay away from mold), and set up a new shrine for my Hello Kitty fax. Then I saw it, the name Michelle written on the side of the fax. Michelle…sounded familiar, but it didn’t ring a bell…………….. bell? Michelle, my belle. Hmmmm...
Anyways, I feel that I should try to find out who this Michelle person is, I sense it’s someone important. Someone from my past perhaps?
Ever since they removed part of my brain due to the frost bite from the iceberg I find it hard to remember my past life, but everything about the UGC is now as clear as a baby’s first piss again. Everything was ready to go… I plugged in the fax and it burst to life! Lights flashing, buttons beeping, the mothership was making contact!! I was trying to decipher what it all meant when it all stopped and the tiny LCD screen blinked ErrOr. Error???

Why does it always have to be in code? By the power of the Blessed Hello Kitty I cracked it faster then the speed of light. It was not ErrOr blinking on the screen, it was 37707, which everyone knows is a Tennessee zip code. Oh sweet Goddess, I will never doubt the head cheese again! Elvis here I come!
I have to go pack, and get to hitchhiking…my cash reserve is low.

I’ll keep you posted,
Larry

[Veruki]

23-may-2007

No one has given me a ride as of yet, and people keep dumping loose change in my coffee. Maybe I should try a different corner.

[tapanuli]

30-August-2007

I used to brag about my ex-work buddy "Wanda", who crashed a private concert in SoHo. It wasn't until someone noticed the glob of pimiento in her teeth that she was caught. In hindsight, Burt Bacharach should have pressed charges. Had she served time for throwing that wineglass in feigned anaphylaxis, I could have taken her job and moved up to V.P. of Marketing by now.

If I have to discuss the joyous mysteries of microwave popcorn one more time, she'll have to scrape my exploded brains off the rotating plate before she zaps her I-am-so-happy-doing-and-eating-the-same-crap-every-day-Lean Cuisine in the breakroom.

[brightpearl]

sept 7 2007

I plugged in the fax machine, but it just keeps printing out Domino's Pizza coupons.

Life in Tennessee is rough.

Head cheese is easily available, though. And ketchup. I've discovered that nearly everything can be improved with the addition of ketchup in liberal quantities. Eggs. Bologna sandwiches. Coffee. Three-piece suits.

I've taken a job through a temp agency screwing the caps on squeezable mustard, but my heart's not really in it. Mustard is so pedestrian.

Love, Larry

[tapanuli]

The Herpetologist Diaries

14-September-2007

Attempted to remove Pat's memory card from my computer with a very chewed-up drinking straw and our disgruntled lab manager's forceps. I failed when my fingers slipped and gravity prevailed. Now, the only pictures of Leroy's first molting have gone the way of most poorly written papers on cloacal infections, drowned in Megan's Magic Bucket of Muriatic Acid. If only OSHA had shown more interest in our little palace of squamatic bedlam, perhaps none of this would have transpired.

[Veruki]

18-september-2007

Something is happening, I'm very frightened. I keep find strange entries in my journal, things I don't remember writing. For example," drowned in Megan's Magic Bucket of Muriatic Acid", or "I used to brag about my ex-work buddy "Wanda", who crashed a private concert in SoHo." What's a Megan? Who's Wanda??? I think I should relocate. I've been in Tennessee for almost 3 months, and no progress. What a waste of perfectly good head cheese. Screw the mothership, I'm gonna rent a car and drive to Japan. I hear that's were the goddess was created.

[tapanuli]

20-september-2007

Well, the trip to Japan didn't quite work out. As the crew of the S.S. Winkiepins pulled my rented Delorean out of the harbor, I had an epiphany. Hello Kitty is my goddess, and I will convert my cubicle into a shrine honoring her supreme holy powers.

In other news, I figured out the whole dissociative literary episode thing. After the doctors sucked the water out of my lungs, they did a quick brain scan. It's the head cheese that got to me, made me sick alright, straight to the noodle! Apparently, I have been so stressed out at work and chemically warped by head cheese that I actually pretended to be other people. It was like mentally living in the greener grass, except I didn't go to the other side. Damn these unpasteurized imported food products!

[Veruki]

20-Sept.-2007

note to self: get a job that provides a cubicle so that I can set up my shrine.

[funkytuba]

2010-06-23 00:23

I just made a profound realization:

All that space under the desk here in my cube is VALUABLE REAL ESTATE!

That I CONTROL! I can fill it up with PRETTY MUCH WHATEVER I WANT.

INCLUDING RENTERS!

I just served the fax machine a notice of eviction... that bastard better start cutting me checks or I'll go Office Space on his ass.

[funkytuba]

2010-07-05 14:30

my co workers are getting annoyed by my application screening process... But how can I possibly get a good tenant without a hearty role-playing session?

[brightpearl]

2010-7-12 10am

Well, the state pulled the rug out from under me, as usual. Something about how by law, rental properties have to provide running water.

Who knew Governor Bredesen reads Craigslist?

I'll show them.
The fax machine is going to be spouting like a fountain by noon.

[brightpearl]

2010-7-12 10:15pm

Fax machine irretrievably clogged with ketchup, knee deep in plans to convert left side of shredder into working bidet.

Back to Home Depot...

[Marcus Bales]

Dog's spacesuit successfully tested in backyard pool. Off to Phantom Fireworks.

[ironicgoose]

My dog caught fire today; I'm afraid the cat will be next.

[Marcus Bales]

Transgressive Verse

After 9/11 I thought,
“Well, at least I'm ok.”

I wouldn't say I'm bigger than Jesus.
I saw what happened to Lennon.
But if I had to guess, I'd say probably, yeah,
but as far as I know,
the Bible is never clear
on the size of Jesus’s penis.
But I mean, come on –
I'm a poet, an artist, and a gallery director.
I don’t want to draw invidious comparisons,
but Jesus --
an itinerant carpenter and convicted felon?
Who do you think is the better man?
And my tears cure cancer too –
it's just that I laugh at terminal patients.

Don't get me wrong,
I love the idea of killing unwanted babies --
what doesn’t sit well with me is the idea
of letting a woman make the decision.
Because if God had wanted women to be equal to men
he'd have given them penises.
And listen, I'm not sorry --
if a hooker has to die for me to get an erection,
then, by God,
a hooker has to die.

I don’t think I could adopt a child, though --
I'm not the kind of guy who digs
through things other people have thrown away.
And I never go looking for child pornography,
but I mean
if somebody sends me an email with some pictures
I'm not going to turn them in.

Ok slavery was an
awful period in our history,
but when we honestly look at what's become
of black culture since emancipation,
I think you have to admit,
maybe we’re right to be mad
when we learn “The Amazing Race”
isn't about white people.
And I don't know why we need
a whole Black History month --
It's not like they're the only ones that suffered.
I mean, we're the ones who have to deal with those people
day after day,
but you don't see us demanding
a whole month to ourselves.

As far as queer, look, I love queers
as much as the next guy,
but I just don't think we should have to let them in our schools
or use our bathrooms or drinking fountains.

It's not that I think the Nazis were right,
or anything. It's just that, well,
we weren't there, right, so we don't know.

For me, performing my poems
at workshops and readings is like
playing soccer with a bunch of crippled
and retarded people.
It's not really fair to them,
but what can I do, you know?

Is this poem the next Illiad or Paradise Lost?
Of course not.
Frankly, I'd like to think I aimed
a little higher than that.