Me: 1 Alien Scientists: 0

Goo-d EVE-ning and adieu

It has occurred to me, after seeing the new batman for the second time, that I would be much happier living the life of a billionaire playboy/dark crime fighting menace. As per the movie storyline, I have to face my greatest fears and become one with them in order to overcome them and use them to manipulate the fears of my enemies. I already have used psychotropic drugs to face my fears and have a supreme understanding of the criminal mind... and nice red uniforms. Bruce Wayne's greatest fear was bats, mine? spiders. so, get this, I will become a NEW super hero, one so terrifying that villians will shit themselves in an orgy of anticipated ass beatings:

I will be reborn, as SPIDER-MAN!!!

MUahahahahahaha, no one could have predicted such a sinister hero!! and no one will be able to penetrate, my impenetrable fortress of spiders high in the canopied spider jungles of central new york. I am working on getting some kevlar-threaded memory-cloth spider legs fused to my ribcage and giant pointy fangs rammed into the gaping sockets that used to contain entire ROWS of pitiful man-teeth. My eyes will probably still be of use, in the spider world of tomorrow where the internet is king, to look up and see, the new computer-god-concocted fake starry sky suspended above living, breathing, worldwide, living-death, frankenstein slavery to complete the new supreme computer-god's frankenstein controls for around-the-corner projection of deadly-touch tarantula spiders!! Venomous armpit glands spray superfluous magellan gases to terrify stricken villagers and steal their cattle. hahahahaha!!

Since I am not a billionaire, I will have to resort to car theft and petty robbery until I drum up enough cash for the spider-mobile, but theN!!!!! oh then the villains will surely pay dearly for their trespasses across the golden, unblemished countenance of justice!! And I will lay multitudinous batches of my larvae into their esophaguses (esophagi?) and watch as billions of victorious spider children burst forth from their swollen and distended abdomens, spilling liberty for all!!!! calling my babies to me with the spider-whistle, we will join, and from our powers combined, we will sculpt a new utopia and rain down spidery tidbits for the next millennia to bear witness to man's final gastronomic destination, for surely, eight legs are better than one (thats the kind of catchy phrase you're gonna start seeing A SHITLOAD more of). and we will scorch the heavens and blacken the skies because the evil empire of machines will be solar powered, but fear not!! for the interminable, inestimable titanium sinewy web from Spider-Man's ass glands will weave a swarthy path of mechanized doom across the land!!! and the footprints of a new, furry creature the size of a tennis ball will be left in the ashes of what used to be the nuts and bolts of the robot messiah, and that creature shall forever be locked behind bars as punishment for the rising of his descendants to be the next generation of monkey criminals!! for justice. then Spider-Man will renegade to the top of the highest mountain and repel down long lengths of the hive queen's antennae to reach the very pit of green acid-mucuous from which will arise a new order of our screechy arachnid forefathers!!!

yes my friends, it will be a victory for the ages


and if that doesn't work out, I'm going to start a gay hacky-sack club. you wouldn't believe it but several interest groups are making a stand against gays in the hack circle. just check out:

www.JustSayNoToGaySack.com

www.WhatWouldJesusHack.com

www.ThisSackAintQueer.com

www.AdamAndEveNotGayHackySack.com

www.TraditionalFamiliesAgainstGaySackInTheClassroom.com

www.SaveMarriageFromTheEvilGayHackySackEmpire.com

www.ComeOverHereAndShakeARealMansSack.com

www.texas.gov

fortunately, I will also be able to receive a fair amount of support from already established gay hacky-sack clubs, nationwide!
check out:

www.MillionManHack.com

www.FightTheBushySackAgenda.com

www.SteamingGaySack.com

www.TwistThoseDirtySacks.com (free anonymous testing and shots)

www.KeepYourLawsOffMySack.com

www.NiceSackLetsGoBackToOneOfMyRentalPropertiesForAQuickHack.com

www.TightHackySluts.com (yum)

I'm heading out to the WC this week, gonna be fun, need a job, got places to go and people to see, but don't worry, you'll still me able to reach me if you so desire, and my penis will probably still reach too, recent reports from Nasa indicate that it has made contact with uranus (sorry, I got lazy towards the end of this post), I don't even pay attention anymore, but the vacuum feels great. so in any case I'm sure it will reach, no teeth though! (ahem, doug) ok, I'm really done.

ugh

hey, first of all, check out the link section for the good court, evil court line-up. i woulda put those images in my profile, but they have a 50kb limit, and as much as I messed with the size/resolution of those images, I couldn't get under 50k without ruining them, so F that I said. anyway, I need a job and a slice of strawberry rhubarb pie. we sail tonight for singapore (don't fall asleep while you're ashore), cross your heart and hope to die, when you hear the children cry, let marrow, bone and cleaver choose, while making feet for children's shoes, through the alley, back from hell, when you hear that steeple bell, you must say goodbye to me. AHAHAhAhhaAAaAHHaHAAhHa


steam, steam, and other bad dreams, goin up to Harlem with a pistol in his jeans, a 50 dollar pill inside a paladin's hat, and nobodies sure where Mr. Knickerbocker's at.

just let me fall out of the window with confetti in my hair, deal out jacks or better on a blanket by the stairs, I tell you all my secrets, but I lie about my past, so send me off to bed for evermore...

been listening to too much Tom Waits today, 16 men on a dead man's chest, and I been drinkin from a broken cup, two pairs of pants and a mauve vest, I'm full of bourbon and I can't stand up. Schiffer broke a bottle on morgan’s head, and I been steppin on the devil’s tail, across the stripes of a full moon’s head, and through the bars of a cuban jail, bloody fingers on a purple knife, flamingo drinking from a cocktail glass, I’m on the lawn with someone else’s wife, admire the view from up on top of the mast

yar... makes me feel like putting on the old rags and dragging myself out horrorshow across the ocean. Y'AR, I woulda made a fine pirate.

in all seriousness though, my turn: I finally figured out what everything is worth, and it's a fucking arm and a leg ya know? yeeeeah, I got my fingers sticking out the ends of arms waving through wind at the top of pine trees through glass windows looking in on stacks of books, letting my neck go limp so I can lift my head with my hands and let the heft hang like a heifer carcass off hooks, making my skin slither across the neighbor's lawn and hair bubble up like broccoli on fast-forward, it's not too late to let words traffic jam my teeth crammed like sleep in train seats riding the great deisel needle that stitches up gaps across the face of family, towns and local peagantries of goodbye, hello sounds.

so that's whats new with me.

Dream #21863

So, it's like this, I'm in the grocery store right, and I'm checking out the yam section. Now, this store, has a ridiculous yam section, yams of all shapes and sizes from all over the world, yam chips, yam coffee, yam hair plugs, you name it. There's even one of those little free food thingys where you can try a slice of fresh yam, which naturally I do. For one reason or another Dan is also at this store, but I can't remember if I came there with him or not, but whatever, we start arguing about these yam slices. "Court, this yam is just another Idaho fatty-yam."
"Uh, I'm not so sure about that, I heard that they outsource now."
"Outsource?! Outsource what?! The dirt?"
"Sure, they fucking fly that shit to other countries and make them do the farming."
"Bullshit."
So that sort of banter is going on, I don't really recall exactly what happens, but Dan leaves and all of a sudden it's just me in this place, which for some reason is now a Yam-Only store, and has shrunk to about the size of a single, dusty, wooden floored room with burlap sacks of yams draped all over it. The woman behind the counter reminds me of someone, she is pretty tall, brown hair, long plain dress, not sure where I've seen her before but I try not to really stare at her and place her face because there's nobody else here, and I wasn't really planning on paying money for any fucking yams anyway. I think she looks like some woman from a dream I had a long time ago and there's no way I'm going to remember it, so I just give up.
As soon as I stop thinking about it, there's a loud yell from somewhere in the back of the store, like back where employees are only supposed to go and the woman looks around nervously and then rushes back there. I start heading for the door, which is not one of those automated doors, but a wooden screen door. It's shining like fuck outside and as I move toward the door I can hear birds and tires on gravel; some kind of fourlegged animal is swinging its tail around next to a fence across the street and I'm feeling pretty good about that. Then I hear another scream, this one slightly quieter and distinctly more feminine. I turn away from the door and look back behind the counter where the woman rushed off. I can't see any movement, and there's still just the sounds of a summer day outside, so I'm thinking to myself "Jesus fucking christ, you've gotta be fucking kidding me right? What the fuck is this shit, fucking yam store is fucking flipping out."
So I hold my breath and listen, and I can hear some rustling sounds and some low voices, so I yell back there "Hey, what's going on, can I leave?"
Some man says "Naw, yew betta cuhm back 'ere"
I cautiously go around behind the counter and into the back of the store thinking "For the love of fuck, lemme fucking guess, fucking hillbilly with a slingblade 'dun gawn pluhm loe-coe,' oh fucking no, I hope I don't get a milk pail to the back of the head, honestly, what the fuck is this shit." It's actually nice and cool back there, there are some fans whirring somewhere, and I come around a corner to see three people, the woman sitting in a chair that's propping open a door, an older man, maybe forty wearing just a pair of overalls and a young man, early twenties, t-shirt jeans. At their feet are two other people, very dead looking, the three of them watch me as I move closer and sort of peek down at the two on the floor. It's two young men, their faces are all swollen up and dark violet blotches have broken out in places, fading in between black down to a light blue. The fingers on their hands look like they've been straining really hard, the joints are all flexed out with these taught muscles grasping around their necks.
"Damn. Well... uh, what the fuck's goin on?"
The older man speaks up, "Nawt shuhr, I jus fownem 'ere"
"Well, uh, I'm just gonna step outside, they're kinda buggin me."
I go back the way I came and go out the screen door. The front of the store is a gravel turnaround off a wide stretch of road that slowly loops off into some hills on the right, and goes into town on the left. It's still a real nice day, I have to squint just to look at the little rocks. I hear the screen door open and fast footsteps on the gravel behind me and I turn around only to have the young man hook a noose-like length of rope around my neck and give a hard yank on it, pulling me down to the ground. He starts dragging me back inside the store and I'm struggling like hell, but there's not much I can do because if I don't keep my hands on the rope around my neck, I won't be able to breathe.
He hauls me across the floor and back behind the counter, but into a different room than the bodies. The older man and the woman are in this small, windowless room, seated at a round wooden table. The young guy starts tying my arms to my sides and I give up struggling. So I'm sitting there on the floor all tied up, and my assailant leaves the room again so I look up at the other two, "Yo, what is the deal here, I'm not the murderer unless all three of you are or something, what the fuck is goin on."
The woman looks down at me, ashing her cigarette onto the table, "We don't know who killed them, but it coulda been you and we aren't gonna let you just walk away."
"Oh come on, I was in the front room the whole time, you SAW ME! Any of you could be a killer too, we should all be tied up. By the way, that kid seems like he's pretty good at wrapping ropes around people's necks, it was probably him, how do you think I killed them? With my fucking shoelaces? This is lame as hell."
"Yuh know, heas gawtta poyhnt, I cuddentuh dun that tuh tew yung men, and yew and yoar cunts atda cownnuh."
They look at each other and leave the room. So I'm just sitting there on the floor thinking, "Man, some of those yam chips were pretty tasty, I wonder how they keep them crisp on the outside and soft on the inside like that. Heh, I need to get the fuck out of here, fucking yams are invading my brains." There is the sound of a scuffle outside and something heavy slams into the wall, a couple moments later the woman comes back in and unties me.
"So... what? Am I free to go?"
"Sometimes you have to wonder, when someone meets you in a hard-to-reach place, how well they know you and whether they're looking for the same thing."
"Yeah, I guess so, why? ...are you gonna strangle me?"
"Don't you REMEMBER?!?"
"Sort of, but not really, I don't think you're supposed to, thats probably part of it."
She sighs, staring along the planks in the floor, "You can go then I guess, but I did kill them."
This is somehow very obvious to me as well, "Yeah, thanks, well... I'll see you around." I got up and walked out to the front door as she got back behind the counter. A car pulled up and parked and somebody wearing a baseball hat got out, I think it was a man. I held the door for him on my way out and started walking back into town, trying to wipe the dust on my palms off onto my pant-legs.

hey i got a great idea

let's all create little websites where we can pander for each other's long-distance friendship by leaving poisonously sweet messages for each other that perhaps, in whatever twisted sect of mental illusion you have couched your standards for social interaction, will serve as substitute for the politicized hierarchy of self hating recognition-junkies typically referred to among the ranks of the still willing, and yet to be worn out, judgement prostitutes hanging each new accomplice on their private wall of affirmation, as the reason behind most of their opinions. See you in 60 years when all that's left are a ravenous pack of self-labelled superior galactic grandmas after eating a block of cheese, smoking three packs of cigarettes, and drinking a quart of milk--DISGUSTING, that's the word, which is why I'm going to the fridge for another shot of freon

this blog is dedicated to all rantings and emotional outbursts in lue of rational discussion and alliance building by people stricken with niceness. no niceness please. if you are cronically nice, just write something about pirates, preferrably with unnecessary details about the revolting physical reality they inhabit.

-court "if you didn't want me to touch you there, why would you say you're my friend"