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The only official site of The First Unification Church of Kooking (fka the First Unification Church of Knowledge)(aka 1st Unichurck) and its house band, the Clown Squad (Affiliated with the community service organization The Underminers' Society of America). --THIS BLOG IS FOR RELIGIOUS, SCIENTIFIC AND EDUCATIONAL PURPOSES ONLY--(Not tested on animals)
Thursday, January 31, 2008
Monday, January 28, 2008
Hipocritic Oaf
Dear Dok Bok;
I have two "medical" problems which I would like for you to address.
1) After a typical night of drinking, I awake with a typical hang-over of the typical type than can be treated with typical aspirin and typical water. However, about 12 hours later, I begin to suffer from a fluttering, pounding heartbeat which lasts for 24-48 hours and of the type which is sufficiently unnerving to cause one to awake from one's sleep and to thereafter check that one's life insurance premiums are paid up. This does not seem right. Is there anything I can do during the first 12 hours to avoid the next 24-48?
2) I have encountered people who can burp on purpose. Can this be accomplished with farting?
I have two "medical" problems which I would like for you to address.
1) After a typical night of drinking, I awake with a typical hang-over of the typical type than can be treated with typical aspirin and typical water. However, about 12 hours later, I begin to suffer from a fluttering, pounding heartbeat which lasts for 24-48 hours and of the type which is sufficiently unnerving to cause one to awake from one's sleep and to thereafter check that one's life insurance premiums are paid up. This does not seem right. Is there anything I can do during the first 12 hours to avoid the next 24-48?
2) I have encountered people who can burp on purpose. Can this be accomplished with farting?
Friday, January 25, 2008
Societe Rustiale
I have another one of my patented "Great Ideas (TM)." We will found a bank, or have Napoleon Bonaparte decree that it be founded, and raise $53B in capital. Then, we will set up systems of oversight which will permit a "rogue trader" employee to somehow blow $7,140,000,000 (13.5% of our funds). Then, the US Fed will print more money by lowering interest rates. Then, I can refinance my mortgage and probably save $50 per month on my payments. I will use my savings to buy an extra case of beer per week which will help to take the edge off.
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
Dr. Bok reporting from Sunny London
Whoever said that the weather in England is grim was perhaps...exactly correct. But not everyone is foolish enough to be coaxed into coming for the highlights of English winter in January. I am, for the record. While walking through the woods on Sunday, preparing for an upcoming talk on Tuesday (that's today, my time), I stumbled upon this thousand-year-old Norman church, which the locals treat with relative indifference. 'oh yeah, that church's all old and a bit broken down'. A bit broken down? As the smarmy would say in L.A., 'duh'.The last thing I stumbled across in the woods that was almost a thousand years old was the lint in OneEar's belly-button. I did not take a picture, so be thankful. I think that the grey sky, grey church, grey stone wall and crosses dotting the horizon on the hill speak volumes about this cheery society as a whole.
Looking at all of these time-worn surroundings allows the imagination run wild, since such ancient reflections of humanity from millenia past are not really to be found in the good ole US of America. For example, it is not at all difficult to imagine one of our forefathers, two-hundred and fifty years ago plodding along a grey grassy knoll such as the one above, and having a conversation such as, "By God's Great Hand! This is the most depressing fucking place anyone in their right mind could imagine. God, why hast Thou forsaken me and all my countrymen? Must we go forth, and create a New Country, one that contains many a splenderous city such as Orlando? Lest we blow our fucking brains out all over this new Norman church here with our muskets?!?"
I love daydreaming about the tortured minds of people from the past. And this trip has really allowed me to indulge myself so far. So, until the next update, Cheerio! (they're just trying to over-compensate with silly expressions like that, by the btw)
Friday, January 18, 2008
Mystery Solved
FU loyalists may recall an incident from August of 2006 when Alceste visited me in Madison, Wisconsin, and we ended up in the middle of a mystery. We spent the afternoon and night bar-hopping and then stayed at a hotel overnight. When we awoke in the morning, the hotel room had received an extreme make-over including relocation of the furniture, removal of the door mirror, and updating of the carpeting with a colorful pattern of diarrhea. The towels had all been removed, and both Alceste's and my feet had been slathered with feces. For details, please reference SOS a Mystery. Of course, this incident and a possibly related roadside incident involving Alceste later became the basis for the world renowned Funky Monkey Crap Rap.
However, until now, exactly what happened in the hotel room on that mysterious night has remained, well, a mystery. Who would break into a hotel room, trash the place, steal all of the towels, and then defecate on the floor and on the feet of the two guests? Mystery solved: Defecation Man arrested.
However, until now, exactly what happened in the hotel room on that mysterious night has remained, well, a mystery. Who would break into a hotel room, trash the place, steal all of the towels, and then defecate on the floor and on the feet of the two guests? Mystery solved: Defecation Man arrested.
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
The Sick Scents
THE SICK SCENTS
written by the Monkey Platoon
INTERIOR MUSIC ROOM – POORLY LIT AND MESSY - ELVIS TAPESTRY HANGS ON WALL.
A NAKED LIGHTBULB SPARKS TO LIFE. It dangles from the ceiling of in a tangle of wires which includes two microphones, each wrapped in duct tape, and a duck, wrapped in electrical tape.
LOUD, STAGGERING FOOTSTEPS AS LBOK clods down the stairs.
LBok is the rare combination of goat and man. More man-goat than goat-man, he exudes a proud self-confidence warranted less by his talents than by his inebriation. He stands briefly at the bottom of the stairwell, his nipples hardened by the chill of the basement air.
His eyes come to rest on a guitar lying face down and slightly inverted as though kicked over. We see a smile begin to develop on LBok’s little face. He begins to laugh maniacally and prances over to pick up the guitar. After fiddling briefly with some of the dozens of nobs on various amplifiers, humidifiers, and dehumidifiers, he begins playing the intro to the Rusty Song.
THE RUSTY SONG
- - - - - - - -- with audio continuing (adding entire band sound) cut to wooded woods
Sergeant Moonkey and his Tribe of males appear from behind a hill and walk down the path through the tangled ravine. Silouetted against the dawn sky, the Tribe is viewed from below at a distance, from the perspective of the Others. Sergeant Moonkey stops, turns abruptly, sniffs the air and looks down intently toward the Others. The Tribe slowly resumes its normal chatter.
OneEar and the Others begin moving up the ravine through the woods off of the path and toward the Tribe. Led by One-ear, the Others half-heartly begin an out-of-tune battle-chant. But they are suddenly confronted with a vision that stops them abruptly and strikes terror into them.
Sergeant Moonkey, who had been partly concealed by two males who walked before him, thrusts his arm high into the air and steps forward between them. In his hand he holds a stout tree branch. Mounted atop the branch is a duck-taped jar of shark’s teeth and the two of clubs.
OneEar and the Others gape in fearful disbelief at this display of power. Sergeant Moonkey stands motionless, thrusting the club high. Then with majestic deliberation, still carrying his club high above his head, he begins to walk quickly and deliberately toward the Others. One of the Others steps forward to challenge Sergeant Moonkey, but he is clubbed with the club bearing the two of clubs. The Others fade back, seeming to lack even the ability to run away. Sergeant Moonkey stands triumphantly over his defeated foe and faces One-Ear who stands watching. Though he is a veteran of numerous combats, One-Ear has never before seen the use of club with shark's teeth duck taped to it. One-Ear looks up curiously at the raised club until the heavy stick crashes down upon his head. "Ouch," he says, and then darkness follows.
UFO's and Camel Toes
- - - - - - - - - -
Fade to a playground. Bundeskraut, an overly polite young man of strict upbringing with a bad habit of leaving fun events early and nervously cupping his balls though his pantspockets is standing near a playground, balls in one hand, blackberry in the other, viewing the screen with obvious concern.
Voice-over:
Code Rojo. One of the Clowns is insane. Report immediately for duty. Project Salmon Boy is a go. Do not, I repeat not, shower. Place pantyhose over head.
- - - - - - - -- CUT to sledding hill
Gang sledding down hill; merriment and then various character development.
Alceste’s sledding run carries him deep into the woods where he shouts for the others to join him. He has made a discovery. There lying in the snow either asleep or passed out is OneEar.
Bundeskraut and Coco come running playfully, wrassling like bear cubs to where Alceste is standing over OneEar.
OneEar: Oh, hi guys.
Alceste: OneEar, get up.
OneEar: Guys, I’ve been visited in a vision by a one eared, slightly incompetent sheep character invented by Coco called Rusty. Rusty is, you know, God.
Alceste: I see.
OneEar: Anyhoo, according to Rusty, and I personally think we should just take this on faith, we must mold ourselves into a successful singing group in order to showcase our devotion to his wonderfulness. Rusty wants you to do whatever I say.
Bundeskraut: Makes sense to me.
Coco: I invented Rusty but now he speaks through OneEar? I’m not sure I like where this is going.
OneEar: Well quit bitching and write something better.
Alceste: This is all just words.
LIFE IS LIKE A SAUSAGE
- - - - - - - - -
Cut back to music room some time later.
Clown squad is assembled, apparently drunk, and attempting to perform. But something just isn't right.
Alceste: You sterking gamp.
LBok: I sure am.
Alceste: You froaching harfer-sterker, they want to kill you now. They want you to die, boaxx.
Bundeskraut: Alceste.
LBok: What I should or should not say and think, help me.
Bundeskraut: Wow, froach his dog.
OneEar: Who.
Alceste: Squatchface LBok.
Bundeskraut: I do.
Alceste: LBok, I come.
Bundeskraut: You know fun.
LBok: I must mubil.
Alceste: I like squatch.
Bundeskraut: Once again al.
Alceste: Am I making squatch?
Bundeskraut: No.
LBok: Cankles?
Bundeskraut: No, no hankles
LBok: Do you?
Bundeskraut: You know it.
Alceste: suck suck suck. The teet is big and round, suck.
SEX FREE SEX
------
Cut to Coco, alone in a small room, typing intently on a laptop. As we approach and look over his shoulder, we see that he is typing this movie script. He is at this point in the script typing these very words. Then he looks up, horrified, and then darkness.
WHISKY INFUSED TRAIN WRECK
------------------
Cut to LBok dressed as a pedophilic outlaw roller-derby player wearing a feather boa and licorice bikini. He is speaking a murmuring language language to some unseen little people. He appears to be describing some type of rat that he discovered at a deli counter.
Alceste bursts into the room followed by Coco whose head is bandaged. LBok signals the little people to hide. A confrontation ensues but we can't quite make out the nature of the dispute. We pull back and fall out the window to the ground below. OneEar happens to be lying there.
ONEEAR: Child I fell.
The child stares down at OneEar.
CHILD: I know, I saw.
ONEEAR: I may be hemorrhaging internally.
CHILD: Builds character.
ONEEAR: Excuse me?
CHILD: Hemorrhaging internally builds character.
ONEEAR: Says who?!!!
CHILD: Daddy.
ONEEAR: Oh, right.
CHILD (whispering): I hear loud people.
POETRY DELETED
- - - - - -
Cut back to music room which now reveals, in addition to hundreds of assorted wires, computer equipment, video equipment, amplifiers and musical instruments, an additional mess: dozens of 4/5 empty beer and alcohol bottles, food wrappers, pizza boxes, bags of chips, overturned ashtrays, half-smoked cigars and cigarettes, backyard gaming equipment, fans, clothing, playing cards, children’s board games, blankets, and shoes emitting the unmistakable signs of smashed dog feces. The mess is forming something of a den or a nest.
From the wall clock, it is clear that either 14 minutes have elapsed since our last visit to the basement, or else the clock has been unplugged in favor of an overturned blender.
We see the Clown Squad assembled, even more inebriated, and watching video footage of themselves. The video is narrated by the voice of Rusty who is commending them on their progress in becoming a successful rock band.
Rusty: I am very proud of you boys. Very proud of your progress in becoming a successful rock band.
Coco: Where are the cigarettes?
OneEar: I think we used them all in that nicorita experiment. There is still some of that left.
Al: Hey Coco, when you’re at the store getting cigarettes, why don’t you pick up some fresh shrimp. Oh, you don’t get fresh shrimp here? Sorry.
Rusty: Gentlemen. Please, back to the task at hand. Now who has the goal sheet.
Bundeskraut: Coco, will you get some more of that smoked salmon?
Rusty: Gentlemen! Now is not the time for salmon! I have a very important announcement to announce.
Silence as the Clown Squad turns in unison toward the screen.
Rusty: I am coming! (audible gasp from the Clown Squad) And I needs your help!
- - - - - -
Cut to Sergeant Moonkey running through the woods holding his stick and chasing an unseen OneEar. Child Holding sheep is watching, puzzled.
- - - - - - -
Cut to LBok and OneEar sitting outside where OneEar apparently has fallen again:
OneEar: Well, we finally get to meet Rusty. What do you suppose he wants of us?
LBok: 68% of the time, when a previously unseen leader is announced, the purpose for his arrival is the assembly of a crack commando team.
OneEar: My gut is killing me.
LBok: I strongly suspect that you have sprained your hair. Can you stand?
OneEar: Yeah, I just need to vomit first.
LBok: Yes, sprained hairs. You see, each hair shaft is supported by a follicle which houses a tiny muscle. Its function is to contract and thereby squeeze a sebaceous gland near the follicle which emits an oily secretion into the skin. This oily secretion is called sebum, and it helps to keep the skin pliable and to shed water. Sometimes when you fall, the levering action of the hair on the gland is extreme and you end up with sprained hairs making your fur, er hair overly oily. Do you understand? All you need is a shot of gin, ok Wookie?
OneEar: Yeah, just give me a second to vomit.
LBok: That’s right, get all of that evil out of your system and then we’ll go get you some gin.
OneEar and LBok walk toward basement stairs, OneEar stops to vomit again, looks up questioningly at LBok who nods knowingly and gestures toward the top of his head.
- - - - - - -
Coco is back at his laptop. Computer voiceover reading anonymous email:
Coco, you do not know me, but you will know me soon enough, although you will wish it were sooner. The reasons will become clear later but, for now, let’s just leave things vague and impending. You will be asked to create a rock opera called Salmon Boy. This is not merely a rock opera. Through this project, you will explore the struggle between chaotic human expressive experience on the one ear and commercially manufactured drivel on the other.
This is a very old battle with stakes much higher than you could possibly appreciate. It is not a battle between individuals, but it will be fought by individuals. In that respect, I guess it is a battle between individuals. Anyway, you may not want to choose sides, but not by choosing, you will have made your choice. My only advice to you is this: Do not trust false prophets, and beware of the two of clubs.
Now go, exercise extreme caution, and could you also pick up some olives when you are at the store?
During the voiceover, Coco looks out the window to see the Clown Squad playing some sort of outdoor game, although neither the object nor the teams are apparent.
------------------------------------------------------
Cut to woods:
Little boy looking under a log in the woods finds a small plastic sheep, picks it up and cleans it off and then puts it into his pocket.
----------------------------------------
Cut back to the basement nest which now includes various animals and is beginning to resemble a very messy and deranged nativity scene. Bundeskraut, Alceste, and LBok are present playing some sort of board game. Coco enters carrying grocery bags.
Alceste: I think Coco is trying to kill us all. Oh, hi Coco.
LBok: Hey Coco, remember that time we interviewed for a job in Spain and when you went to shake hands, all of the crumbled airplane crackers from your pocket flew all over the room and Elvira said, “Just go. I’ll clean it up. Just get out.”
Bundeskraut: That story is so funny.
Coco: Where’s the Wookie?
Bundeskraut: He fell outside again. I’ll go get him.
- - --
Bundeskraut walks out and sits down next to OneEar, outside.
BUNDESKRAUT: OneEar, I don’t understand how you keep falling up here out of the basement.
ONEEAR: I don’t understand it either.
BUNDESKRAUT: Why don’t you just obey the law of gravity?
ONEEAR: Gravity just keeps you down.
BUNDESKRAUT: OneEar, you're scaring me.
ONEEAR: They scare me too sometimes.
BUNDESKRAUT: They?
ONEEAR: The short people.
BUNDESKRAUT: Short people?
ONEEAR: The Abu Gogo.
BUNDESKRAUT: You see little people, OneEar?
ONEEAR: They want me to do things for them.
BUNDESKRAUT: They talk to you?
OneEar nods, "Yes."
BUNDESKRAUT: They tell you to do things?
OneEar nods "Yes" again. Bundeskraut becomes upset. He nods with grave understanding. OneEar watches him.
ONEEAR: You think I'm a freak?
Bundeskraut’s eyes move to OneEar.
BUNDESKRAUT: Look at my face.
OneEar gazes at his intense expression.
BUNDESKRAUT: I would never think that about you ... ever... Got it?
ONEEAR: Got it.
OneEar smiles. Bundeskraut glances down.
BUNDESKRAUT: You are……. special.
ONEEAR: That’s what the little people say too.
Bundeskraut pauses, then helps OneEar up.
ONEEAR: Have they contacted you? …… About the Salmon Boy?
Bundeskraut doesn’t answer while studying OneEar’s face. Then he brushes grass out of OneEar’s hair.
BUNDESKRAUT: Let’s go inside and get some nourishment.
- - - - - - -
Inside, Coco is serving some sort of Polish pasta. His head is once again bandaged, and he is wearing only one shoe.
Coco: Remember in College when I used to get mad and drink alot. I used to think that we just needed an idea like the Ninja Turtles that we could turn into some sort of lucrative business.
From the video screen, on which Clown Squad footage is still playing, Rusty’s voice comes on.
RUSTY: Coco, you are correct. That is what you need, what we all need. You must create a commercially accessible rock opera that extols the virtue of money. So, listen closely and do exactly as I say. Now, first, …
Coco: Coco turns off the television. I am thinking we should call the project “Salmon Boy.” Who's with me?
OneEar’s head jerks up and he looks at Bundeskraut whose eyes shift nervously.
OneEar: Why salmon boy?
Coco: My brother bought a giant salmon boy yard sculpture and had it shipped back from Ireland. I also would like to include a giant feared but respected hairy creature called “Mookie” who is a leaker, if we can get around to it. We could also incorporate the Monkey Platoon.
Alceste’s head jerks up. He cautiously eats another Polish pasta while eyeing Coco with suspicion.
LBok: I have to go to the bathroom.
LBok leaves the room, but nobody seems to care. The remaining Clowns begin clearing a table to play spades.
Coco: If we time this right, we should also incorporate the intelligent design/evolution debate that is playing out in the Kansas science curriculum. OneEar, weren’t you born in Kansas.
OneEar: I was designed in Kansas.
Coco: Of course. We will need a theme song.
OneEar: How about the AbuGogo Blues?
Bundeskraut’s head jerks up.
Al: Who has the two of Clubs?
Cocos head jerks up with a shocked look on his face.
----------
CUT TO A CAVE
4 Abu Gogo have assembled around a Jugs magazine. They are mumbling and eating. LBok emerges out of the shadows, takes a quick look at the Jugs magazine, and then motions for the AbuGogo to gather around.
LBok: I will speak in English now, because native AbuGogoan is not an efficient language. You really should adopt an alphabet with more than 13 letters if you want my opinion. But, I digress. What was I saying, gago nuba gagogaga gagonuba gagagago, oh yes, the rock opera.
They are calling this commercially lucrative rock opera “Salmon Boy.” And I would like to enlist your help to sink this fish.
LBok laughs diabolically.
LBok: Yes, a hoard of unseen little hobbit people is just what I need to foil this little project.
---------------
OneEar is lying outside, Coco is sitting next to him.
OneEar: I read all about it. These little people were 3 feet tall.
Coco (sarcastically): Interesting, OneEar.
OneEar (as if in a trance): Little humanoids with bow legs, flat feet, nice teeth, and little tiny brains. The women had long breasts that they would flop over their shoulders. They used stone tools, fire and cooperative hunting techniques. It has been inferred that the little people used a rudimentary form of language.
Coco (sarcastically): Interesting, OneEar.
OneEar: Don’t you get it, they are still around!
Coco: What do you mean “still around?”
OneEar: They come and talk to me.
Coco: W..What do they say?
OneEar: gaga booboo or something like that.
Coco: What does it mean?
OneEar: I don’t think it means anything. That’s the whole point.
Coco: I see.
OneEar: I think LBok knows them. I found this in his duffel bag.
OneEar holds up the two of clubs.
--------------
Alceste is in bathroom viewing himself in the mirror putting on war paint to convert himself into Sergeant Moonkey.
Alceste/Sergeant Moonkey: The time has come.
Alceste drops his pants, takes a seat on the toilet and picks up a Jugs magazine.
Little boy carrying sheep walks by and looks in on Alceste.
Alceste: Occupado!
----------
Cut to Basement nativity nest.
OneEar, Bundeskraut and Coco are eating and drinking. All are visibly drunk and difficult to understand. They appear to be murmuring to one another.
Alceste/SM enters carrying his stick.
LBok enters opposite and grabs a drum and drumstick.
They begin to fight rhythmically. The other clowns grab instruments and join in the musical battle.
In a very short while, they are exhausted, and they all sit back down. Bundeskraut has packed up his guitar and is on his way out.
Bundeskraut: I’ll see you guys later, I have to catch a taxi to the bus station for a bus to the airport unless someone wants to drive me.
Alceste/SM: You don’t get it. We must destroy this commercially lucrative rock opera. We cannot follow the way of the Other.
Bundeskraut leaves.
LBok: Wait a minute: I was trying to destroy the music too.
Alceste/SM: You mean..
Alceste/SM and LBok (together but off-key): We were working in harmony. Then who are we fighting against?
Rusty’s voice is heard from the TV: You have failed. You have failed yourselves, and you have failed Rusty. You have failed all that is organized and commercially lucrative.
The Clown Squad (minus Bundeskraut) grab their instruments and unleash a barrage of music that destroys the TV. They are visibly proud of themselves and continue playing vigorously.
Little boy holding lamb enters:
Little boy: Do you guys know any ………. songs?
CLOSEUP OF LAMB, SMILING
THE END
written by the Monkey Platoon
INTERIOR MUSIC ROOM – POORLY LIT AND MESSY - ELVIS TAPESTRY HANGS ON WALL.
A NAKED LIGHTBULB SPARKS TO LIFE. It dangles from the ceiling of in a tangle of wires which includes two microphones, each wrapped in duct tape, and a duck, wrapped in electrical tape.
LOUD, STAGGERING FOOTSTEPS AS LBOK clods down the stairs.
LBok is the rare combination of goat and man. More man-goat than goat-man, he exudes a proud self-confidence warranted less by his talents than by his inebriation. He stands briefly at the bottom of the stairwell, his nipples hardened by the chill of the basement air.
His eyes come to rest on a guitar lying face down and slightly inverted as though kicked over. We see a smile begin to develop on LBok’s little face. He begins to laugh maniacally and prances over to pick up the guitar. After fiddling briefly with some of the dozens of nobs on various amplifiers, humidifiers, and dehumidifiers, he begins playing the intro to the Rusty Song.
THE RUSTY SONG
- - - - - - - -- with audio continuing (adding entire band sound) cut to wooded woods
Sergeant Moonkey and his Tribe of males appear from behind a hill and walk down the path through the tangled ravine. Silouetted against the dawn sky, the Tribe is viewed from below at a distance, from the perspective of the Others. Sergeant Moonkey stops, turns abruptly, sniffs the air and looks down intently toward the Others. The Tribe slowly resumes its normal chatter.
OneEar and the Others begin moving up the ravine through the woods off of the path and toward the Tribe. Led by One-ear, the Others half-heartly begin an out-of-tune battle-chant. But they are suddenly confronted with a vision that stops them abruptly and strikes terror into them.
Sergeant Moonkey, who had been partly concealed by two males who walked before him, thrusts his arm high into the air and steps forward between them. In his hand he holds a stout tree branch. Mounted atop the branch is a duck-taped jar of shark’s teeth and the two of clubs.
OneEar and the Others gape in fearful disbelief at this display of power. Sergeant Moonkey stands motionless, thrusting the club high. Then with majestic deliberation, still carrying his club high above his head, he begins to walk quickly and deliberately toward the Others. One of the Others steps forward to challenge Sergeant Moonkey, but he is clubbed with the club bearing the two of clubs. The Others fade back, seeming to lack even the ability to run away. Sergeant Moonkey stands triumphantly over his defeated foe and faces One-Ear who stands watching. Though he is a veteran of numerous combats, One-Ear has never before seen the use of club with shark's teeth duck taped to it. One-Ear looks up curiously at the raised club until the heavy stick crashes down upon his head. "Ouch," he says, and then darkness follows.
UFO's and Camel Toes
- - - - - - - - - -
Fade to a playground. Bundeskraut, an overly polite young man of strict upbringing with a bad habit of leaving fun events early and nervously cupping his balls though his pantspockets is standing near a playground, balls in one hand, blackberry in the other, viewing the screen with obvious concern.
Voice-over:
Code Rojo. One of the Clowns is insane. Report immediately for duty. Project Salmon Boy is a go. Do not, I repeat not, shower. Place pantyhose over head.
- - - - - - - -- CUT to sledding hill
Gang sledding down hill; merriment and then various character development.
Alceste’s sledding run carries him deep into the woods where he shouts for the others to join him. He has made a discovery. There lying in the snow either asleep or passed out is OneEar.
Bundeskraut and Coco come running playfully, wrassling like bear cubs to where Alceste is standing over OneEar.
OneEar: Oh, hi guys.
Alceste: OneEar, get up.
OneEar: Guys, I’ve been visited in a vision by a one eared, slightly incompetent sheep character invented by Coco called Rusty. Rusty is, you know, God.
Alceste: I see.
OneEar: Anyhoo, according to Rusty, and I personally think we should just take this on faith, we must mold ourselves into a successful singing group in order to showcase our devotion to his wonderfulness. Rusty wants you to do whatever I say.
Bundeskraut: Makes sense to me.
Coco: I invented Rusty but now he speaks through OneEar? I’m not sure I like where this is going.
OneEar: Well quit bitching and write something better.
Alceste: This is all just words.
LIFE IS LIKE A SAUSAGE
- - - - - - - - -
Cut back to music room some time later.
Clown squad is assembled, apparently drunk, and attempting to perform. But something just isn't right.
Alceste: You sterking gamp.
LBok: I sure am.
Alceste: You froaching harfer-sterker, they want to kill you now. They want you to die, boaxx.
Bundeskraut: Alceste.
LBok: What I should or should not say and think, help me.
Bundeskraut: Wow, froach his dog.
OneEar: Who.
Alceste: Squatchface LBok.
Bundeskraut: I do.
Alceste: LBok, I come.
Bundeskraut: You know fun.
LBok: I must mubil.
Alceste: I like squatch.
Bundeskraut: Once again al.
Alceste: Am I making squatch?
Bundeskraut: No.
LBok: Cankles?
Bundeskraut: No, no hankles
LBok: Do you?
Bundeskraut: You know it.
Alceste: suck suck suck. The teet is big and round, suck.
SEX FREE SEX
------
Cut to Coco, alone in a small room, typing intently on a laptop. As we approach and look over his shoulder, we see that he is typing this movie script. He is at this point in the script typing these very words. Then he looks up, horrified, and then darkness.
WHISKY INFUSED TRAIN WRECK
------------------
Cut to LBok dressed as a pedophilic outlaw roller-derby player wearing a feather boa and licorice bikini. He is speaking a murmuring language language to some unseen little people. He appears to be describing some type of rat that he discovered at a deli counter.
Alceste bursts into the room followed by Coco whose head is bandaged. LBok signals the little people to hide. A confrontation ensues but we can't quite make out the nature of the dispute. We pull back and fall out the window to the ground below. OneEar happens to be lying there.
ONEEAR: Child I fell.
The child stares down at OneEar.
CHILD: I know, I saw.
ONEEAR: I may be hemorrhaging internally.
CHILD: Builds character.
ONEEAR: Excuse me?
CHILD: Hemorrhaging internally builds character.
ONEEAR: Says who?!!!
CHILD: Daddy.
ONEEAR: Oh, right.
CHILD (whispering): I hear loud people.
POETRY DELETED
- - - - - -
Cut back to music room which now reveals, in addition to hundreds of assorted wires, computer equipment, video equipment, amplifiers and musical instruments, an additional mess: dozens of 4/5 empty beer and alcohol bottles, food wrappers, pizza boxes, bags of chips, overturned ashtrays, half-smoked cigars and cigarettes, backyard gaming equipment, fans, clothing, playing cards, children’s board games, blankets, and shoes emitting the unmistakable signs of smashed dog feces. The mess is forming something of a den or a nest.
From the wall clock, it is clear that either 14 minutes have elapsed since our last visit to the basement, or else the clock has been unplugged in favor of an overturned blender.
We see the Clown Squad assembled, even more inebriated, and watching video footage of themselves. The video is narrated by the voice of Rusty who is commending them on their progress in becoming a successful rock band.
Rusty: I am very proud of you boys. Very proud of your progress in becoming a successful rock band.
Coco: Where are the cigarettes?
OneEar: I think we used them all in that nicorita experiment. There is still some of that left.
Al: Hey Coco, when you’re at the store getting cigarettes, why don’t you pick up some fresh shrimp. Oh, you don’t get fresh shrimp here? Sorry.
Rusty: Gentlemen. Please, back to the task at hand. Now who has the goal sheet.
Bundeskraut: Coco, will you get some more of that smoked salmon?
Rusty: Gentlemen! Now is not the time for salmon! I have a very important announcement to announce.
Silence as the Clown Squad turns in unison toward the screen.
Rusty: I am coming! (audible gasp from the Clown Squad) And I needs your help!
- - - - - -
Cut to Sergeant Moonkey running through the woods holding his stick and chasing an unseen OneEar. Child Holding sheep is watching, puzzled.
- - - - - - -
Cut to LBok and OneEar sitting outside where OneEar apparently has fallen again:
OneEar: Well, we finally get to meet Rusty. What do you suppose he wants of us?
LBok: 68% of the time, when a previously unseen leader is announced, the purpose for his arrival is the assembly of a crack commando team.
OneEar: My gut is killing me.
LBok: I strongly suspect that you have sprained your hair. Can you stand?
OneEar: Yeah, I just need to vomit first.
LBok: Yes, sprained hairs. You see, each hair shaft is supported by a follicle which houses a tiny muscle. Its function is to contract and thereby squeeze a sebaceous gland near the follicle which emits an oily secretion into the skin. This oily secretion is called sebum, and it helps to keep the skin pliable and to shed water. Sometimes when you fall, the levering action of the hair on the gland is extreme and you end up with sprained hairs making your fur, er hair overly oily. Do you understand? All you need is a shot of gin, ok Wookie?
OneEar: Yeah, just give me a second to vomit.
LBok: That’s right, get all of that evil out of your system and then we’ll go get you some gin.
OneEar and LBok walk toward basement stairs, OneEar stops to vomit again, looks up questioningly at LBok who nods knowingly and gestures toward the top of his head.
- - - - - - -
Coco is back at his laptop. Computer voiceover reading anonymous email:
Coco, you do not know me, but you will know me soon enough, although you will wish it were sooner. The reasons will become clear later but, for now, let’s just leave things vague and impending. You will be asked to create a rock opera called Salmon Boy. This is not merely a rock opera. Through this project, you will explore the struggle between chaotic human expressive experience on the one ear and commercially manufactured drivel on the other.
This is a very old battle with stakes much higher than you could possibly appreciate. It is not a battle between individuals, but it will be fought by individuals. In that respect, I guess it is a battle between individuals. Anyway, you may not want to choose sides, but not by choosing, you will have made your choice. My only advice to you is this: Do not trust false prophets, and beware of the two of clubs.
Now go, exercise extreme caution, and could you also pick up some olives when you are at the store?
During the voiceover, Coco looks out the window to see the Clown Squad playing some sort of outdoor game, although neither the object nor the teams are apparent.
------------------------------------------------------
Cut to woods:
Little boy looking under a log in the woods finds a small plastic sheep, picks it up and cleans it off and then puts it into his pocket.
----------------------------------------
Cut back to the basement nest which now includes various animals and is beginning to resemble a very messy and deranged nativity scene. Bundeskraut, Alceste, and LBok are present playing some sort of board game. Coco enters carrying grocery bags.
Alceste: I think Coco is trying to kill us all. Oh, hi Coco.
LBok: Hey Coco, remember that time we interviewed for a job in Spain and when you went to shake hands, all of the crumbled airplane crackers from your pocket flew all over the room and Elvira said, “Just go. I’ll clean it up. Just get out.”
Bundeskraut: That story is so funny.
Coco: Where’s the Wookie?
Bundeskraut: He fell outside again. I’ll go get him.
- - --
Bundeskraut walks out and sits down next to OneEar, outside.
BUNDESKRAUT: OneEar, I don’t understand how you keep falling up here out of the basement.
ONEEAR: I don’t understand it either.
BUNDESKRAUT: Why don’t you just obey the law of gravity?
ONEEAR: Gravity just keeps you down.
BUNDESKRAUT: OneEar, you're scaring me.
ONEEAR: They scare me too sometimes.
BUNDESKRAUT: They?
ONEEAR: The short people.
BUNDESKRAUT: Short people?
ONEEAR: The Abu Gogo.
BUNDESKRAUT: You see little people, OneEar?
ONEEAR: They want me to do things for them.
BUNDESKRAUT: They talk to you?
OneEar nods, "Yes."
BUNDESKRAUT: They tell you to do things?
OneEar nods "Yes" again. Bundeskraut becomes upset. He nods with grave understanding. OneEar watches him.
ONEEAR: You think I'm a freak?
Bundeskraut’s eyes move to OneEar.
BUNDESKRAUT: Look at my face.
OneEar gazes at his intense expression.
BUNDESKRAUT: I would never think that about you ... ever... Got it?
ONEEAR: Got it.
OneEar smiles. Bundeskraut glances down.
BUNDESKRAUT: You are……. special.
ONEEAR: That’s what the little people say too.
Bundeskraut pauses, then helps OneEar up.
ONEEAR: Have they contacted you? …… About the Salmon Boy?
Bundeskraut doesn’t answer while studying OneEar’s face. Then he brushes grass out of OneEar’s hair.
BUNDESKRAUT: Let’s go inside and get some nourishment.
- - - - - - -
Inside, Coco is serving some sort of Polish pasta. His head is once again bandaged, and he is wearing only one shoe.
Coco: Remember in College when I used to get mad and drink alot. I used to think that we just needed an idea like the Ninja Turtles that we could turn into some sort of lucrative business.
From the video screen, on which Clown Squad footage is still playing, Rusty’s voice comes on.
RUSTY: Coco, you are correct. That is what you need, what we all need. You must create a commercially accessible rock opera that extols the virtue of money. So, listen closely and do exactly as I say. Now, first, …
Coco: Coco turns off the television. I am thinking we should call the project “Salmon Boy.” Who's with me?
OneEar’s head jerks up and he looks at Bundeskraut whose eyes shift nervously.
OneEar: Why salmon boy?
Coco: My brother bought a giant salmon boy yard sculpture and had it shipped back from Ireland. I also would like to include a giant feared but respected hairy creature called “Mookie” who is a leaker, if we can get around to it. We could also incorporate the Monkey Platoon.
Alceste’s head jerks up. He cautiously eats another Polish pasta while eyeing Coco with suspicion.
LBok: I have to go to the bathroom.
LBok leaves the room, but nobody seems to care. The remaining Clowns begin clearing a table to play spades.
Coco: If we time this right, we should also incorporate the intelligent design/evolution debate that is playing out in the Kansas science curriculum. OneEar, weren’t you born in Kansas.
OneEar: I was designed in Kansas.
Coco: Of course. We will need a theme song.
OneEar: How about the AbuGogo Blues?
Bundeskraut’s head jerks up.
Al: Who has the two of Clubs?
Cocos head jerks up with a shocked look on his face.
----------
CUT TO A CAVE
4 Abu Gogo have assembled around a Jugs magazine. They are mumbling and eating. LBok emerges out of the shadows, takes a quick look at the Jugs magazine, and then motions for the AbuGogo to gather around.
LBok: I will speak in English now, because native AbuGogoan is not an efficient language. You really should adopt an alphabet with more than 13 letters if you want my opinion. But, I digress. What was I saying, gago nuba gagogaga gagonuba gagagago, oh yes, the rock opera.
They are calling this commercially lucrative rock opera “Salmon Boy.” And I would like to enlist your help to sink this fish.
LBok laughs diabolically.
LBok: Yes, a hoard of unseen little hobbit people is just what I need to foil this little project.
---------------
OneEar is lying outside, Coco is sitting next to him.
OneEar: I read all about it. These little people were 3 feet tall.
Coco (sarcastically): Interesting, OneEar.
OneEar (as if in a trance): Little humanoids with bow legs, flat feet, nice teeth, and little tiny brains. The women had long breasts that they would flop over their shoulders. They used stone tools, fire and cooperative hunting techniques. It has been inferred that the little people used a rudimentary form of language.
Coco (sarcastically): Interesting, OneEar.
OneEar: Don’t you get it, they are still around!
Coco: What do you mean “still around?”
OneEar: They come and talk to me.
Coco: W..What do they say?
OneEar: gaga booboo or something like that.
Coco: What does it mean?
OneEar: I don’t think it means anything. That’s the whole point.
Coco: I see.
OneEar: I think LBok knows them. I found this in his duffel bag.
OneEar holds up the two of clubs.
--------------
Alceste is in bathroom viewing himself in the mirror putting on war paint to convert himself into Sergeant Moonkey.
Alceste/Sergeant Moonkey: The time has come.
Alceste drops his pants, takes a seat on the toilet and picks up a Jugs magazine.
Little boy carrying sheep walks by and looks in on Alceste.
Alceste: Occupado!
----------
Cut to Basement nativity nest.
OneEar, Bundeskraut and Coco are eating and drinking. All are visibly drunk and difficult to understand. They appear to be murmuring to one another.
Alceste/SM enters carrying his stick.
LBok enters opposite and grabs a drum and drumstick.
They begin to fight rhythmically. The other clowns grab instruments and join in the musical battle.
In a very short while, they are exhausted, and they all sit back down. Bundeskraut has packed up his guitar and is on his way out.
Bundeskraut: I’ll see you guys later, I have to catch a taxi to the bus station for a bus to the airport unless someone wants to drive me.
Alceste/SM: You don’t get it. We must destroy this commercially lucrative rock opera. We cannot follow the way of the Other.
Bundeskraut leaves.
LBok: Wait a minute: I was trying to destroy the music too.
Alceste/SM: You mean..
Alceste/SM and LBok (together but off-key): We were working in harmony. Then who are we fighting against?
Rusty’s voice is heard from the TV: You have failed. You have failed yourselves, and you have failed Rusty. You have failed all that is organized and commercially lucrative.
The Clown Squad (minus Bundeskraut) grab their instruments and unleash a barrage of music that destroys the TV. They are visibly proud of themselves and continue playing vigorously.
Little boy holding lamb enters:
Little boy: Do you guys know any ………. songs?
CLOSEUP OF LAMB, SMILING
THE END
Monday, January 07, 2008
Broke Down Doctor
DBok's reminiscences about Rusty Sessions of yore caused me to recall the time when the sessions were last held at my house. It was the winter, probably about 10 years ago, and I had recently moved into a 100 year old house in a small village in Wisconsin. Friday involved heavy drinking and frequent trips to/from the airport to pick up the Clowns as they arrived. “Music” probably was played as well.
Saturday consisted of more drinking, more “music,” and frequent trips between the two bars located in this particular village. On Saturday night, we were at the yellow-house bar and were engaged in some dialogue with the local clientele. DBok was impressing nobody in particular with his unique grasp of arcane, trivial factoids, and, as usual, he was utilizing his most know-it-all-ish tone and demeanor. Eg. “I live in Norfolk, Virginia, the world’s largest natural seaport!” or some such nonsense.
Just about this time, one of the patrons, apparently tired of DBok’s relentless condescension, addressed another fellow very loudly across the bar. “Hey, Randy, this guy (DBok) wants to suck your dick!” “Did you hear me Randy, this guy here really wants to suck your dick!” “This guy, right here, (again pointing to DBok), wants to suck your dick!” This went on for several minutes with the reiterated inference being created that DBok wanted to suck Randy’s dick.
DBok first tried to reassure Randy that he did not, in fact, want to suck Randy’s dick. However, the other patron was unconvinced. “Randy, I’m telling you this guy wants to suck your dick!” Soon DBok and the man who was convinced that DBok wanted to suck Randy’s dick were entangled in a robust embrace, and it became clear that a Clown retreat was necessary.
The Squad extricated ourselves from the establishment and escorted DBok back toward my house. DBok insisted on standing in the street yelling taunts at his newly-made friend, but after numerous tries, we eventually shepherded him back to my house. We reconvened in my living room, but, when we took a roll-call, DBok was absent. He had snuck out the back door and was headed back to the bar to further debate with the other gentlemen his desire to suck Randy’s dick, or lack thereof.
It became clear to the rest of us that DBok was intent upon having his ass kicked that particular evening. So, on motion made and duly seconded, and with a quorum being present, we resolved to go kick his ass ourselves. Our thinking was that, since he had just become a surgeon, his hands needed protection from the damage which might occur during a fist-fight. We figured it unlikely that his new acquaintance would extend the same courtesy. Further, we saw no reason why a surgeon needs his face, neck, ribs, back or legs to be uninjured. So, we caught him out in the street, dragged him back to a snowbank, and dog-piled him. Coco was particularly zealous in this effort to protect DBok, and, while the rest of us were pummeling him, Coco shoved some ice shards up DBok’s nose. This, while probably unnecessary, was very funny.
Eventually, we had literally beaten some sense into DBok, and we went back home to resume the normal Rusty Session activities.
The following morning, I had to lend DBok a walking cane to limp his way through airport security toward home. Something about a broken something. But his hands were fine.
You know, come to think of it, I don’t think I ever heard him say “Thank you.”
Saturday consisted of more drinking, more “music,” and frequent trips between the two bars located in this particular village. On Saturday night, we were at the yellow-house bar and were engaged in some dialogue with the local clientele. DBok was impressing nobody in particular with his unique grasp of arcane, trivial factoids, and, as usual, he was utilizing his most know-it-all-ish tone and demeanor. Eg. “I live in Norfolk, Virginia, the world’s largest natural seaport!” or some such nonsense.
Just about this time, one of the patrons, apparently tired of DBok’s relentless condescension, addressed another fellow very loudly across the bar. “Hey, Randy, this guy (DBok) wants to suck your dick!” “Did you hear me Randy, this guy here really wants to suck your dick!” “This guy, right here, (again pointing to DBok), wants to suck your dick!” This went on for several minutes with the reiterated inference being created that DBok wanted to suck Randy’s dick.
DBok first tried to reassure Randy that he did not, in fact, want to suck Randy’s dick. However, the other patron was unconvinced. “Randy, I’m telling you this guy wants to suck your dick!” Soon DBok and the man who was convinced that DBok wanted to suck Randy’s dick were entangled in a robust embrace, and it became clear that a Clown retreat was necessary.
The Squad extricated ourselves from the establishment and escorted DBok back toward my house. DBok insisted on standing in the street yelling taunts at his newly-made friend, but after numerous tries, we eventually shepherded him back to my house. We reconvened in my living room, but, when we took a roll-call, DBok was absent. He had snuck out the back door and was headed back to the bar to further debate with the other gentlemen his desire to suck Randy’s dick, or lack thereof.
It became clear to the rest of us that DBok was intent upon having his ass kicked that particular evening. So, on motion made and duly seconded, and with a quorum being present, we resolved to go kick his ass ourselves. Our thinking was that, since he had just become a surgeon, his hands needed protection from the damage which might occur during a fist-fight. We figured it unlikely that his new acquaintance would extend the same courtesy. Further, we saw no reason why a surgeon needs his face, neck, ribs, back or legs to be uninjured. So, we caught him out in the street, dragged him back to a snowbank, and dog-piled him. Coco was particularly zealous in this effort to protect DBok, and, while the rest of us were pummeling him, Coco shoved some ice shards up DBok’s nose. This, while probably unnecessary, was very funny.
Eventually, we had literally beaten some sense into DBok, and we went back home to resume the normal Rusty Session activities.
The following morning, I had to lend DBok a walking cane to limp his way through airport security toward home. Something about a broken something. But his hands were fine.
You know, come to think of it, I don’t think I ever heard him say “Thank you.”
Friday, January 04, 2008
All Hail Cheese!
That Dok Bok talk bout a sledding trip
When Clown’s slid down on ma slippery slip
Clowns on ma legs
Most broke ma knees
Said “Get up bitches
and All Hail Cheese!”
“All Hail”
“All Hail Cheese”
“All Hail”
“All Hail Cheese”
Skip skat scoff
Now cough and sneeze
I turn my head
Say “All Hail Cheese!”
Flippin and rippin through ma CD stack
Got the RIA all over ma back
Whipped white wop
Say whigger please
I show my brief
Says “All Hail Cheese!”
“All Hail”
“All Hail Cheese”
“All Hail”
“All Hail Cheese”
Copyright wrong
Song parodies
Its one beat off
Say “All Hail Cheese!”
Tuesday, January 01, 2008
TRIPLE DECKER!
The triple-decker is a feat oft described, but rarely executed. It truly harkens back to an early Rusty session, "the Ohio tapes", which included the famous instigator, Sit-nay. OneEar (and his jacket) was instantly transformed into a human (sheep) sled.
Life List
The FU is encouraging all parishioners to complete a "Life List" before the next service. Here is mine so far:
1) Complete Life List
2)
1) Complete Life List
2)
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