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April 26, 2003

Michael Jackson Is Cocoony Loony ...Schaa-mone

So I bumped into Michael Jackson in that net thingy filled with colored balls at Kiddieland at Mcdonalds. He was in bad shape.


ME: Michael are you okay? What happened?

MJ: Ma Ma. Tee heeee heeeee.

ME: Huh? Is that baby talk? What's up? What's with all the bandages and casts and stuff?

MJ: Da Da. --- HOOO!!

ME: Do you always do those hooting things? Are you wearing a diaper?

MJ: Ma Ma. Da Da. Woooo hooo hooo.

ME: What is this? What's going on here? Why are your arms and legs in tiny casts? You look terrible. Somebody call 911.

MJ: [whispering] Schaa-mone please, no doctors. Call tinkerbell, here's my magic talk box.

ME: That's a cell phone.

MJ: Don't be silly. It's not alive. It doesn't have cells. It's made out of magic elephant tusks. It was blessed by a Pygmy. [whispers, points at phone] I think he lives in there.

ME: It's not made from tusks. It's plastic.

MJ: Press 6 and say "Peter Pan to Tinky Bink."

[I speed dial 6, it rings once and a machine picks up.]

VOICE ON PHONE: Welcome to the Disneyland event hotline. Press one for upcoming shows. press 2...

MJ: Did the special princess answer? Is she doing that number game? It's sooo fun.

ME: It's a machine.

MJ: Silly, machines don't talk. Press 6! Press 6! Hurry! Hurry!

[Again I press 6]

VOICE ON PHONE: You have reached the Small World Picnic Pavillion.....

MJ: Is she talking about picnics yet?

ME: Yes.

MJ: Ooh. Let me hear, let me hear.

[I hold the phone to Michael's ear.]

MJ: Heeee heeeee heeeee HOOOO!! I looooove picnics. Ooooh and what if the picnic basket was filled with magic forever berries and it could fly? ---- Oh my. Teeeee heeeeee heeee. Schaa-mone. Here, press 6, press 6 hurry, hurry!

ME: Maybe we should do that later Michael.

MJ: I'm not Michael. I'm Peter Pan.

ME: OK, well, we'll play the happy number game on the magic talk box later ok?

MJ: When when when?

ME: In fifteen minutes

MJ: Huh?

ME: When the big hand gets on the 10.

MJ: Oh goody. I can't wait.

ME: So what's the deal with the casts and the diaper and stuff? Did you have plastic surgery again?

MJ: You are soo silly. You watch too much of the magic story box. I never ever had "plastic" surgery, sheesh, first the magic talk box is "plastic" and now you speak of a "plastic" doctor. I don't even know what "plastic" is -- and these aren't casts. Do you see hundreds of tiny people on my arms or something?

ME: No. Not casts like the cast of "Cats", I mean like, you know, if you break your arm or something.

MJ: Ooh I loved Cats -- meeeeoww. But oh no, Heaven forbid. I would never dream of breaking my own arms or any of my other toys. I love my toys. Do you think I'm crazy or something? These aren't casts, they're "cocoons".

ME: Cocoons?

MJ: Yeeeesssss, cocoons. Mr. SnipSnip The Magic Scissor Wizzard is almost done with my cocoon. The time draws near. The time draws near. Abracadabra with jelly and sparkles, the time draws oh so near. Tee heeee heee. Schaa-mone.

[A sudden burst of wind blows Michaels outfit and hair upwards]

ME: What time draws near?

MJ: The time for me to be a baby again.

ME: You're turning into a baby? Don't you have kids?

MJ: You mean Ma Ma and Da Da? Yes, I love them soooo so much.

ME: You call your kids Ma Ma and Da Da?

MJ: What? Did you think I was talking to myself back there? I'm not crazy. I just love my chillldren. I love all chillldren. They are magic. I never want to look down on chillldren. I want to look up to chillldren. they are so much smarter and beautiful than mean old grown-ups.

ME: OK you're freaking me out. Why the fuck are your arms and legs so tiny?

MJ: Excuse me, Peter can't hear angry words.

ME: Why the flip are your arms and legs so fetchin' tiny?

MJ: Babies can't have longy legs and longy arms silly.

ME: OK now I'm really getting creeped out. Did you have your arms and legs shortened or something? Did you mutilate your limbs? please tell me you didn't.

MJ: Don't you worry for one little minute. My arms and legs are just fine. Why would I shorten perfectly good arms and legs? You do think I'm crazy don't you.

ME: Whew, you scared me, you just kinda have a reputation for weird stuff like that.

MJ: My longy limbs are perfectly safe swimming in the enchanted, syrup filled vases in Mr. SnipSnip The Magic Scissor Wizzard's castle. These are just my shorty limbs. We just switched'em. That's all.

ME: OK, I think I'm gonna barf. Where did you get the shorty limbs?

MJ: From my magic babyman doll, you know, I used to play with it all the time, but for years it's just been lying in a pile in the Silly Fun room.

ME: No. I don't remember any "magic babyman doll".

MJ: Don't be silly, yes you do. Webster.


ME: You mean Emmanuel Lewis? For the love of all that is sacred please tell me you didn't cut up Emmanuel Lewis for parts.


MJ: Of course not. Mr. SnipSnip The Magic Scissor Wizzard did. I'm not crazy. I know I'm not a wizzard. I'm Peter Pan.

ME: How could you do this? Give me your magic talk box, I'm calling the police.

MJ: Why? I didn't steal it. The magic babyman doll and all four shorty limbs are mine fair and square.

ME: How so?

MJ: I bought it. It came in the same box as the Elephant Man bones . I have a receipt.

ME: You can't BUY human beings.

MJ: Oh yeah? I wish you'd tell that to Paul McCartney, I barely beat him at the money contest. That bad Beatle wanted the Webster doll really bad really bad really bad. He made the money numbers go up like by a million dollies. He doesn't want me to have anything.

ME: Anyway, this is fully disgusting and I am absolutely opposed to all of it, but don't you think that the "shorty limbs" look totally disproportionate to your abnormally long torso?

MJ: The Wizzard says: "Waiting is how flowers grow". This is just for the summer until Mr. SnipSnip The Magic Scissor Wizzard gets his Switchy-headâ„¢ toy he ordered from Planet Orbulon.

ME: And then you'll use Webster's torso too? Is he still alive?



MJ: It still makes funny sounds and wiggles when I tickle it. Webster is happity happity happity. It's gonna be a funny baby tall doll now. But don't be so silly, no more shorty stuff, shorty limbs aren't like a baby. Teenie Weenie limbs are like a real baby. That's why next we do switchy game with the newest toy.

ME: Let me guess. You bought Mini Me?

MJ: Are you magic too? How did you know? Can you see my brain?

ME: No, but I can smell the gift basket in your shorts. Jeeeesus.

MJ: Oopsie poopsie, Peter Pan made a Peter poo poo in his diapey wipey. Where are my chillldren? MA MA!!! DA DA!! Teeee heeee heeeeeee. Schaa-mone. HOOOOOO!!

FUCK FRANCINE!!:
Anonymous Anonymous is a gaywad.

michael jackson is innocent. quit making fun of him. it is wrong.

 

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April 22, 2003

Tim Robbins Has Poop in His Pants

So I bumped into Tim Robbins at a really awesome hippee circle jerk in San Francisco. He looked sad.

ME: Tim, what's wrong?

TIM: I pooped my pants.

ME: What? Why? Are you sick? When did you poop your pants?

TIM: Last week and No, I'm not sick. I did it to prove a point.

ME: Last week? You've had the same poop in your pants for seven days? What point were you trying to make?

TIM: I wanted to prove that I can't say just anything and get attention.

ME: What?

TIM: Well, because everybody is saying that I'm stupid and that I only get attention cuz I'm famous.

ME: So you pooped your pants? Why didn't you just say something like "I like pooping my pants"? Did you actually have to actually poo in your actual pants to prove your point?

TIM: Well Dennis Miller was saying that I was talking out of my butt, I guess I was caught up in the imagery --- I'm a very visual person you know. I was frustrated.

ME: So did anybody pay attention as you -- you know? Is that what all of these cameras and microphones are about?

TIM: Well yeah, turns out they actually don't care what I say, they just care that I'm famous. But I have smart stuff to say. Watch this: America is like Nazi Germany and free speech is gone and stuff. -- Yeah, hey can you guys stop filming my butt? I have a face you know. Sheesh.

ME: Why do you say that? How is America like Nazi Germany?

TIM: Cause, like, Bush is like Hitler.

ME: How so?

TIM: They both totally give me the exact same kind of creeps. This whole Iraq thing is totally like in those Germany movies about the big war and Jews and stuff don't you think?

ME: How so?

TIM: It's all bad and there are mean frowning people that keep sayin "shut-up turtleface" wherever I go.

ME: OK, that sucks that you look like a turtle, but did anybody put you in jail or gas you or hit you or torture you or poke you with sharp stuff? Because that's what Nazi's did.

TIM: Nazi's actually did that stuff? I thought that movies were just pretend.

ME: Most movies are pretend. The Nazi's really did all that stuff from the movies.

[ten second pause]

TIM: Aaaawwwww, ooooooooohh ---- yooooou------ you almost had me there, you silly kidder. I almost believed you. Nobody really kills and tortures people, anyone knows that stuff's all made up. You should be an actor. But let's get back to what I was saying about how people are getting all Nazi on me --- listen to this; The Baseball President guy, -- said Me and Susan can't come to his party ---- when ---- a week ago -------- he said we could. ---- yeah ----- Can you believe that bull?

ME: Do you think that it might be because you have a stinky, week old, half dried you-know-what in your pants?

TIM: uuhhhmmm Maybe, but I have a God given RIGHT to poop my pants if I want to. This isn't Germany you know.

ME: Do you invite poopy pants people to your parties?

TIM: Well, kinda, maybe. Susan doesn't believe in proper anal hygene cuz how it interferes with the rights of poop molecules to have a "poop state" in her butt crack (she calls her butt crack Poolestine) --- she says toilet paper is like Sharon's and Bush's Military and the poop smear is like Palestine and Iraq and that in order for peace to exist, she has to resist wiping them off the face of her butt crack because that is just the kind of evil crud Bush would do. --- you know ---- she wants to set an example.

ME: How do the Palestinians feel about being compared to uh - poo smears?

TIM: How should I know? I don't talk to Extras. Extras aren't really actors, they are just lucky to get to work in the movies for a day. Most of them are Mexicans. They feel good I guess.

ME: No. Tim, Palestinians aren't just Extras on a movie set. They are REAL people.

TIM: Really funny, you already tried that one on me ----- duh.

ME: But seriously, dude to dude, How do you like sleeping with a woman who doesn't, you know, have proper bathroom hygene? Do you have sex with her?

TIM: No. No sex. She dried up about six years ago when she filled her hoo ha with sand.

ME: Why did she do that?

TIM: The whole "Poolestine" metaphor. I personally think, but I would never dare tell her, that she didn't need to turn her vagina into a tiny "West Bank", but she's a stickler for detail, she's very visual, that's why we like each other. We're both veerrrry visual. Annd.....she's a little ---- you know..

ME: Insane?



TIM: Yeah.

[long pause]

Oh yeah, she also said that sex is like an invasion of her "middle east" ---she's against invasions.

ME: Geez, that sucks dude, why don't you just tell her your wee wee is an ostrich who needs to stick his head in the sand or something?

TIM: I don't get it. I don't want sand in my pee hole.

ME: What about anal?

TIM: What? and fuck Israel? hmmmmn. Hey, never tried that one. I think she'd like that.

ME: Oh yeah. Anyway, do you understand now that it's OK to un-invite a person with poop in their pants to a party and that it is nothing even vaguely similar to what happened in Nazi Germany?

TIM: Yeah, I guess.

ME: Good, now come'ere you and give me a hug.

[long hug]

What are you doing? Are you peeing your pants?

TIM: Maybe.

ME: I can tell that you are peeing your pants. Your pants are khaki, you can totally tell. What the hell is wrong with you?

TIM: Well, did you notice that during that long pause the camera people started pointing their cameras at that attention starved guy from modesto who killed his smiley little pregnant wife and his headline hogging unborn brat?

ME: Yeah.

TIM: Welllll ------- now do you see how they are all pointed at me again? I'm famous for a reason schoolboy. I'm not as dumb as you think.

He has a point there.

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April 06, 2003

A Call to Wings

Friends and Esteemed Others,

For many years, but especially lately, I have been frustrated with just about everyone in discussing politics, religion, art or almost anything really. I have been unable to really enjoy a debate where everything is left-wing this, right-wing that. I just can't agree with either type for more than ten minutes. This morning something quite simple occured to me.

I am a Double-Winger.

I will no longer frustrate myself trying to find comfort in either crowd. I will embrace my double-wingedness.

While the single-winged, left-wingers and right-wingers remain earthbound and unable to fly, I will take my complete set of two wings and race ahead. If they wish to join me, great, if not, I will enjoy the sky where I will practice loopdeeloops and other stunts -- and --- watch out, I am kinda like a bird. I will practice my aim and I will poop on their heads.

You can quote me on that.

I'm not the only one up here. I see a few others, perhaps one of them is you. If not, If you are missing one of your wings, all hope is not lost. It's really not that difficult to grow whichever wing you lack. Just relax, think *Fairness* *Reason* *Balance* *Logic* but most of all take the
attitude that you will seek *solutions* and *answers* rather than *blame* or *complaints*. It can be difficult and at times even painful and lonely, but holy bird poop, is it ever worth it.

Won't you join us in flight? Our flock is small. It would be much more fun if more of us were up here flapping our full sets of wings.

and for all you smartasses who itch to call me a bird-brain--- I already thought of it -- so save it.

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