Wednesday, February 08, 2006



There's a Parallel Universe, with a Parallel Earth, similar to ours, but with a few differences. For instance, calling someone an "asshole" is amongst the highest of compliments, since assholes are the conduit through which "non-purities" are expelled - so an "asshole" is a person free of evil. And Mike Nesmith has a boring job. As on our Earth, he was a member of the Monkee's as well as a critically acclaimed, if not commercially viable solo artist. Unlike on our Earth, his mother didn't invent "Liquid Paper" because errors are never glossed over. Instead, errors are placed in the "Museum of Impurities" - therefore, no mechanisms for correction exist and anyone convicted of attempting to devise such a mechanism is immediately dispatched to war in Iraq, which has entered its third decade. So as a result of Ma Nesmith being unable to create"Liquid Paper", make millions, die and leave her son the fortune, Mike finds himself struggling to make ends meet. Along with the rest of the Monkee's, Mike is unable to earn wages via reunion or anniversary tours, as that type of behavior is seen as trying to correct/legitimize/gloss over a mistake. Desperate for funds, Mike takes a job writing bank pamphlets. Despite valiant attempts to inject some life and humor into the copy, he's forced to write bland, boring lines like "Bank With Us, You Asshole".



On Parallel Earth, fire is a living, sentient entity, possessed with a moderate I.Q. and driven by a malicious desire to torment humans. As a consequence, it's no surprise that fire eaters are highly sought after and handsomely rewarded individuals (unlike on our Earth, where they're sideshow geeks). It's a dangerous profession and few are willing to take the necessary risks, among them, severe digestive problems. The most celebrated of Parallel Earth's fire-eaters is Rick Queen. His exploits - legendary; his courage - unsurpassed. On Parallel Earth, any person who exhibits bravery is proud to be labeled a "Flaming Queen".



Parallel Earth has many enchanting and wonderful family oriented places like "The Realm of Skulls". It's a series of regional parks, particular to the U.S., but permutations of it exist in other countries. For example, Mexico's is called "San Skulloné". In Holland, their version is known as "Landt Uten Den Schlecte Kopfph Zhene" or, roughly translated, "The Land Under Rotten Head Teeth". Of course, not all countries have such parks. "Cranium" (which on our Earth, is called Uganda), sees no merit in, and is quite frankly baffled by the western world's skull-centric reserves. Anyway, in the U.S., once a year, families gather in their states' "The Realm Of Skulls" for a day long festival of food, drink and merriment. Young and old take part in numerous games like "Baseskull" - the object being to bat a skull with a leg bone and see if you can run around the three pelvic bones and get back "into your head". Particularly old or overused skulls often disintegrate on impact, sending skull-dust into your eyes. Many a toddler has been discomforted in such a manner. But not to worry, there are many skull-dust removal products available on Parallel Earth, like "Skull Away" or "Capt. Skully-bye Jr". ("for lil' eyes full of skull dust" ). In Japan, there's "Skull Nomo". It sounds like slang (Nomo - short for no more), but actually it's named after Japanese Major League Baseskull player Hideo Nomo. On our Earth, we have the chocolate bar "Oh Henry", inspired by famous Major Leaguer Hank Aaron. On Parallel Earth, their Hank Aaron inspired product is called "Oh Henry, Your Skull Is Shattered". Ironically, "Sculling" or rowing to the layperson, is known on Parallel Earth as "A Fucking Waste Of Time".



Radio is a medium held in very high regard and reserved only for broadcasts deemed to have significant value One of the most popular programs is "Pen vs. Sword Theater". Taking its cue from the ancient proverb "The pen is mightier than the sword", this audio play's content features a famous playwright each week who must compose a play in one hour whilst a hooded man (or so we're told. I mean it's radio for fuck sake – He could just as easily not be wearing a hood) hovers over his shoulder, bearing a sword. Should the playwright fail to compose a play in the allotted time, or should the studio audience deem his play unworthy (they follow along as the playwright composes it, by reading teleprompters in the studio), the man with the sword stabs the playwright in the ass. Some playwrights have been on many times and successfully avoided an ass stabbing. And as on our Earth, where for instance, the Buffalo Bills are famous for being four time in a row Superbowl losers (yet ironically, few can name their victorious opponents), the playwrights that are most famous are the ones that are colossal failures. The most infamous of Parallel Earth's repeatedly ass-stabbed playwrights is Kurt Vonnegut Jr. Jr., who's been stabbed in the ass 42 times! And without fail, as soon as his ass heals from the ass stabbings, he comes back for what's sure to be another ass-stabbing! And as soon as his stabbed ass heals, you guessed it - more ass-stabbing. And the cycle goes on and on. Ass-stabbing. Ass-stabbing. Ass-stabbing, etc. (by "etc.", I mean to imply that the ass-stabbing continues). Also on Parallel Earth, you can get an ass-stabbing for saying "ass-stabbing" too many times. Good thing I don't live on Parallel Earth...because that's where the ass-stabbings are. And just like you, who I'm sure would hate to receive an ass-stabbing, I too, would hate to be on the receiving end of an ass-stabbing.


...Ass-stabbing.

Monday, February 06, 2006

THE HARUKI TANAKA REPORT


I am being entertained right now. Entertained with the knowledge that millions of fat, lazy American Hillybillys are watching Japanese made televisions and eating five cheese stuffed in crust, double layer pizza pies, and then eating Yankee Doodle American apple pies, and drinking their corn syrup fructose sodas, sitting on their Type II Diabetes fat rumps watching
Superbowel multimillionaires, the best players of whom come from a race that the White Imperialist Hillybillys fear and seek to keep second-class citizens.

Corpulent, butter-eaters...Oh how American Hillybillys love their butter! Fatty meats and super starch potatoes coated with kilograms of butter.

Look to Japan, fat American Hillybillys! We live longer because we eat better and work harder. Our corporate leaders do not line their pockets with the moneys from their workers. We have honor. We have respect. We are strong and fear nothing, save the great GODZILLA.

You?
You have BUTTER! And stretch pants. And extra wide seats. And heart disease. FACT: If 100,000 American Hillybillys came to Japan, our great island would sink!

– eh? What is that rumbling? Earthquake?...I...I just heard a terrible roar – It can only mean one thing – NO! IT IS! IT IS THE FEARSOME GODZILLA!!!!
AIIIEEEEEE!!!!!
AIIIEEEEEE!!!!!
AIIIEEEEEE!!!!!