It turns out that the secret is tension….simple, not so simple
October 31, 2006
October 26, 2006
Do you write on your friend’s pizza crust in order to smart them?
PM DAWN SKETCH
Featuring the music of PM dawn… Two men with butterfly nets walk into a local pizzeria that appears to be doubling as some sort of game show set. Friends try to guess their friends favorite or most played song within the last month. Each friend has a slice of pizza and a permanent marker. They have to write the name of the artist/band on the crust.
If the answer is incorrect the friend who guesses wrongly must eat the crust while performing the song with one of the pizza chefs. One of the pizza workers, a younger person on the lower end of the chain of pizza command is angered that the world famous crust of PM Dawn Pizza is being vandalized by kids with shitty music taste. He suggests that no recipient of the gold crustoff of Lower Milwaukee deserves to be besmirched by kids who listen to shitty music, or their dumb ass friends that don’t know any better.
Top Pizza Chef: (holding a skinny microphone, and shaving fake hair from a doll with dough eyes) PM Dawn Pizza welcomes all of you friends today. Are you ready to write on some award winning crust? Do you know which band or hot top single has been the one most played by you’re best friend? Do you really have a best friend? Teardrops and termites you block heads….you know what this is about? Not love, no, music and pizza, pizza and music. We’ve gathered the correct answers from the contestants. If you guess the correct artist or song, we name one of our Sunday Calzone specials after you and your friend, hyphenating you’re names into calzone fame, and both you and that friend will get a free Sunday meal for fourteen weeks and you’re face on our place mats.
Two friends sit at a table spotlighted for a few seconds. One of them has a pizza with the crust facing the other who holds a large permanent marker. A few snippets of songs are played. The friend not holding the marker attempts to bite at the slice.
Marker friend: No man, you can’t bite at the slice unless I guess wrongly what your most played or favorite song has been over the last month.
Top Pizza Chef: That’s right. You only eat the slice if the answer written on you’re curst is incorrect as you sing the wrong song with me.
Other friend: I got to eat the pizza with market on the crust if I’m wrong while singing with him if you fuck up?
Top Pizza Chef: But remember, the winning friends get fourteen free Sunday meals on us not to exceed ten dollars, and a calzone that will bear both their names, strengthening their friendship forever, or until it ends.
Younger pizza worker: (Not happy with contest, in mocking tone) Yeah, what a fab idea. That’s how the two guys from PM Dawn met. They’re probably not even friends anymore, or able to afford pizza.
Top Pizza Chef: Just clean the tables Jeff. You know putting down PM Dawn will send you right to the bread stick closet with Boof, and your dad owes a lot of money.
YPW: Fine, but eating crust with marker on it can make you a quadriplegic or deaf I think…
TPC: Alright Jeff, that’s all, and you won’t spread lies in this Pizzeria.
The spotlight hits the table of the two friends again, as songs are played. The marker holding friend agonizes to guess the right song, as people in the background are seen singing in a gloomy way with the TPC silently while their pizza is being written on.
Marker Friend: Its Denny’s such a flirt by Captain & Tennille.
Other Friend: No! I’ve never listened to that song in my life. I just mentioned it over the phone because of the VH1 special, and now I’ve got…
TPC: Sing the song with me while you’re friend writes the song title on the crust. Make you’re way up here…what’s your name?
The song Denny’s such a flirt is played, while a number of people nail pizza crusts with artists or song titles to a corkboard. The other friend walks up only to find that the TPC has been tackled by YPW. YPW tries to force marked up crusts into TPC’s mouth as they wrestle on the floor. PM Dawn’s: Set adrift on Memory Bliss song plays loudly as people in scene feign blindness and walk off the stage.
October 17, 2006
My suitcase is 200 years in the past
| “Don’t dress like a ‘dude’ or a ‘swell’; nor carry a little poodle dog (a man’s glory is his strength and manliness–not in aping silly girls), nor cock your hat on one side, nor tip it back on your head (let it sit straight and square), nor wear anything conspicuous or that will make you offensive to others” |
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Modern Manners and Social Forms, 1889
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October 14, 2006
Poem from Swift updated by Augustus De Morgan
Great fleas have little fleas upon their backs to bite ‘em,
and little fleas have lesser fleas, and so ad infinitum
And the great fleas themselves, in turn , have greater fleas to go on;
while these again have greater still, and greater still, and so on
October 13, 2006
Ever have a dream of your old philosophy professor? I did, and not the one where he’s on a mountain bike and your on a four speed bike with stolen food from the supermarket in a Swiss knapsack that’s supposed to be camouflaged, but it’s not, unless you’re in a psychedelic berry processing continent.
These dreams are always not scary enough to enlighten you. My mom says I drink too many sports drinks before I go to bed. Last night, Doctor Tarlton and I met face to face again. We were in Saratoga Springs, in the supermarket by the onion rings. He asked me what I thought of Aristotle. I told him that Aristotle is corny and he didn’t care much for animals.
The almost scary thing that happened was the way Dr Tarlton then looked at me real good like he way buying me for important fire wood he was gonna chop and he was moving to the Yukon, and said: “You think Aristotle is Corny?” He said it in such a way, that I swore it was Aristotle that said it to me, and he was so pissed off I called him corny that he sacrificed his after life meal ticket to cudgel me on the head for being an asshole or something.
October 10, 2006
when i played war games with toilet bubbles
I get pissing anxiety, and not just in public places. I have to create games for myself in order for my urination to be successful. Now what do I mean by successful. My urine will not need a post-doctorate degree or come to grips with a mutual fund that garners some immediate income but is really geared towards capital accumulation. I often tell myself that if I destroy enough bubbles in toilet water by the efforts of my pissing, let’s say over 100,000 bubbles before my death, that I will receive a gift certificate for a higher end after-life spa, that kind that scoffs at our earthly ideas of ambient music, and applies rust inhibitor on our halos without ever implying a tip is necessary. I’m at war with the car wash cashier in the town of Little Neck…Queens. She accused me of using a dry shoe type polish sponge that was for sale in her shop. I was simply curious about how the shoe shine resulted from the light circular buffeting of the product. I hardly shined enough for the toe region of one shoe to shine, but it was enough for the woman to excoriate me as just another shoe fucking user polish man. In my war with the toilet bubbles; I am allowed ten nuclear options…use your imagination if you care to. I understand the the head of the FCC now reads my blog, well happy plane pee quick wand.
