NEW MERCH #8:

CONGRATS SMACKER

So this thing is a Congrats Smacker.

Swings the Smacker about lazily.

Looks like an oversized novelty fly swatter that you would buy at the Stuckey’s gift shop.

Passes the Smacker close by the face a few times.

I’m impressed.

Brings it up in a two handed grip.

It’s heavy as hell, yet somehow swings easy. 

Fences with it like a swashbuckler.

And when you do swing it you can feel the damage you’re about to inflict.

Pantomimes bringing it down like an executioner’s ax on the back of someone’s neck.

Very satisfying.

Holds it upright before the torso, one-handed, ceremonial, other hand makes a mock salute.

Maybe too satisfying?

Spins ‘round and ‘round and ‘round with the Smacker out like some scything blade thing.

Like what I mean, I guess, is that it’s really only supposed to be used in certain situations against certain targets.

But it just swings so easy, uhh, it’s really hard, y’know, to abstain from off-label uses?

Yeah . . .

Look at it go!

Bam! The gleaming structures of the financial district go down in fractured ruins of glass, twisted steel, and broken concrete.

Wa-ha-ha-ha-haaaa!

Oh, that action works so easy . . . yeah . . . as you can see I’ve broken all my action figures, and flatscreens, and smashed the books all to shit, knocked down all the walls and the ceiling and ripped up the floor and foundation and wrecked all the sewage pipes which is why there’s all these arcs of liquid shit fountaining all over, and you see how the neighbors are in pieces out there ‘cause they’re trying to come on the property and I had to shut that down-and that brought on all the cops and the SWAT teams and I had to shut that down-and then you’ve got all the National Guardsmen and I had to shut that down-so then they send in the regular Army, and then they send in the telekinetics, and then they sicced the wizards on me-I just shut it all down, and then, and then they brought in the negotiators, and the reverse child psychologists, and the pretty lady with the machine that lets her enter my mind so she can speak directly to my inner child, and then other nations started to take an interest in my action, so they start deploying drones and robot attack dogs and online influencers-gotta shut all that down, just swat it all into submission-but then someone launches a giant cyber attack which takes down the entire power grid, but my Congrats Swatter is totally offline so I’m good.

You may have noticed that there’s a bit of a wind blowing so there’s this, uh, like, uh, a tornado? 

Made of all the book pages?

Yeah, like, uh, Nature’s really gettin’ at my ass for wielding all this power, I guess.

Fair enough.

But, like . . . this Congrats Smacker isn’t just supposed to be a general use weapon, you’re supposed to employ it for a specific purpose.

This is all explained in a lavishly illustrated instruction manual. 

I’ll just read the relevant passage for you.

I quote:

“In the course of your days, you may, in the fullness of time, find that you have achieved all of your dreams. All of the people gather to praise and congratulate you. This should be your finest moment . . . so why do you feel such emptiness? ‘Tis a mystery, isn’t it? Well, no philosopher or theologian or soothsayer can truly answer why you feel such emptiness . . . but Congrats Smacker Manufacturers Consortium United has a tool which embodies a sublime methodology that can clear away the symptoms! The tool is Congrats Smacker. Swing the tool to clear away the chattering masses that, in their foolishness, presume to know the Mind of Victory-your mind-and thereby clear the path before you that you may march forward to ever more total triumphs and ever more severe expositions of supra-genius! Did not the rock fall from space to clear away the decadent dinosaurs of yore? Did not homo sapiens learn cunning rhetorics of coordination to outflank the stolid neanderthals of yesteryear? Have we not-in all our chemical genius-persecuted the noisome stinging bees to the point of final death that we may recreate ourselves out-of-doors in a peace free of pricks? Let Congrats Smacker be your weapon of Ultra Expedited Evolutionary Paradigmatic Change-nay, Transformation! All orders must fall. In the ruins of every fall stands the True Final Champeen, ready to will the New Era into existence. With Congrats Smacker in hand, you can battle your way to the Top Spot, by battering away the trifling fools who would dare to confine you and your glories in a prison of praise-for are they not daring to render you and your works comprehensible and thereby limited when you know yourself to be limitless by such specious pronouncements?! With Congrats Smacker in hand you can bash and bash away every last tiny-brained fan who would presume to parasitize your visionary vitality to the pathetic purpose of pretending to proximity to the Prime Mover-you, Dear Purchaser, you!!! Settle not for the comforts of a supine fan base-just smack it all away, drop the space rock upon the doofus dinosaurs, let your assassin’s hands speak lemniscates round and round and round the grunting neanderthals, write the formulas of chemical violence to bestill the last of those oh-so-bumbling bees, BE THE OLYMPIAN EMBODIMENT OF THE WILL AND WORKS OF AN UNRELENTINGLY OBLITERATIVE NEW ERA!!!!! SMACK, SMACK, AND SMACK AGAIN UNTIL ALL THE IDIOTIC CHATTERINGS OF NONSENSICAL NONENTITIES CEASES FOREVER!!!! SMACK AND SMACK AND SMACK . . . ‘TIL THE SUBLIME MOMENT IN WHICH THE SMACKING BECOMES THE ONLY PRAISE YOU’LL EVER SEEK OR NEED . . .”

Not gonna lie: not sure what the fuck that’s all supposed to mean . . . but it’s kinda inspirational, right? 

And then, uh, after the text you get some diagrams and illustrations.

I mean . . . I think . . . you’re supposed to use Congrats Smacker if you’re already some kinda great person or whatever. 

I don’t know if I measure up to all that, though, so, like I said, I did the whole off label use thing . . . I can live with that.

Looks up.

Huh . . . I wonder if I could smack away that big space rock . . . or am I just another dinosaur guy?

Looks down and around at all the rubble’n’ruins.

Hmm . . . things are quiet now. That might get to me. Might have to try smacking the quiet.

Regards the Congrats Smacker somewhat grumpily, face scrunching up like “trying to be into this,” face scrunching down like “not really into it,” already getting bored with the new toy.

7 out of 10.

A tornado of pages attacks, gets smacked into defeat, the pages flash igniting from some fearsome friction.

Ha! There it goes. Nature’s a loser. Ha, haaa . . .

Swings it about this way and that. It starts to just feel like a novelty oversized fly swatter again. 

Really . . . it’s just like everything else. Buildings. Money. Soldiers. Books. Neighbors. Dogs. Cats. Criminals. Politicians. Viruses. You. Me. Them. People. Ghosts . . . just mass produced junk.

Stares at the smacker real hard. 

You think you’re special?! Is that what you think?! I’ll just buy another Smacker and smack you with it! How do you like that?!? Smack you, Smacker! HAW! HAW! HAW!

Idly smacks self under the chin, goes flying into space, maybe even destroys the big rock . . .

PLACES YOU CAN GO #10:

There’s a war you can slide right into, my friend . . . especially if you’re deeply stupid, totally dishonest, and always on the lookout for opportunities to commit crimes to distract from other crimes.

Of course, once you go there you may not be able to come back . . .

Fortunately, the American public is all too eager to forget all of this if they get told enough times that the economy’s doing just fine even if most normal people are working harder than ever with nothing but ever dwindling wages/savings/squishy subjective feelings of happiness to show for their trouble.

So, really, once you get to where you’re going, there isn’t any reason to go back, is there? Because if you do go back . . . you might start to remember things you’d rather not-yikes!

Scary stuff.

Best stick with the one way ticket.

It can be comforting to know that everyone’s on a big, loud ride over the cliff all together . . . leaving all those pesky damn memories in the dust-whew! What a relief . . .

“Let’s not make any more memories ever again, everybody!” you declare to the nation.

The ensemble cheers with wild abandon.

THE SECRETS OF FINAL TOWN 99

YOUR DRAWING PROMPT #100:

Powering through the ecstatic tedium of a decades long Starbucks Basic economic downturn involving a recurrent dream of being pursued by the long abandoned empty lot that used to be an Elk’s Lodge but has served as an illegal dumping ground for seventeen years and your own complicated feelings of admiration for such devotion to a cause while also wishing it would leave you the hell alone.

MANDATORY RULE #20:

If you’re listening to the Peter Gabriel album So you are required to listen to the album all the way through from beginning to end at least once before you just put “Sledgehammer” on infinite repeat.

This I command!

NOTIONAL HEADLINE #248:

OPINION/COMMENTARY/PROFOUND INSIGHTS FOR THE AGES SPECIAL LIMITED EDITION: WALLET. KEYS. PHONE. THOSE DISCOUNT CARDS ATTACHED TO THE KEYRING. THAT LITTLE SQUIRTLE GUY ALSO ATTACHED TO THE KEYRING . . . WHAT AMERICA LOST IN THE WAR.

THE NEW DREAM #54:

The sign outside

Says low low low prices

I go inside the store

The store takes everything from me

I end up with nothing

I go back home for one last time

I sleep in that bed for one last time

I wake up, eat breakfast in that kitchen, shit-shower-shave in that house one last time

I look real cool walking in slow motion towards the camera, smiling strangely, as that house explodes spectacularly in the background

I go to the public library to get on the Internet

I begin to do a little bit of research

I end up doing a lotta bit of research

At some point I’m like, “Oh. Okay. I see it now. Right. Sure.”

I log off Internet, but I just sit there in front of the computer. 

A tough looking man of indeterminate middle age asks me if I’m gonna sit there all day.

I figure he needs to look at fan art of Harley Quinn, so I get up, wander through the fiction stacks, mulling over the results of my research.

You see,

what I found out online

was that that store that took everything from me

really-truly-madly-deeply

was

indeed

actually

no lie

no bullshit

charging me low low low prices.

But the catch is

Everything’s just more expensive these days

Nothing personal

It’s just the economics, is all.

I wander the fiction stacks.

I start thinking about names: Tolstoy, Dostoyevsky, Shakespeare, Brecht, Faulkner, Hemingway-all that shit I faked my way through in college.

Last book I read was something about punching up my social media viral marketing presence online, and before that I tried to read something about the Stoics-

I’m standing before the disorganized paperback racks.

I see Michael Crichton, I read a few of those one time, they were all right-and James Patterson, I read one of those once, and there’s the lawyer guy, Grisham, and one of the old James Bonds, From Russia with Love, I think I read one of the 1990s Bonds where it was a different writer, there’s another lawyer guy, a bunch of Star Wars, got a Star Trek with Picard on the cover, one of the later TekWars by Shatner, Pet Semetary, various historical romances-

“No fucking way . . .”

They’ve got some of the Resident Evil books. And they’ve got some Robotechs. I loved those books in high school!

I grab up the Resident Evil and Robotech books. I see someone’s backpack on a table, pick it up, dump out a Nintendo Switch 3, stuff the Resident Evils and Robotechs into the bag, fight off some irate teenager with a Judo throw that sends him crashing into a The Magic School Bus display, and book it for the front door.

Sure enough, the security thing beep beep beeps.

I’m booking it towards the camera . . . but because I’m not in slow motion, the library doesn’t explode behind me.

JUMP CUT

The library is gone.

In its place sits a Mini-Pentagon franchisee.

I walk towards it, figuring I’ll do the right thing, return the books I stole,

but I skid to a stop.

I see the new structure.

I take it all in, in all its implications.

I’m like, “Fuck it, I’ll go sign up for a Forever War. What else would I be doing?”

But quick enough, I see that the Mini-Pentagon is locked up tight.

There’s a screen with a long-winded message talking about “recent financial difficulties” and “overall lack of participation” and “no set date for re-opening at this time”

and I ask myself,

“Did they finally run out of money for Forever Wars?!? How is that even possible? Isn’t that illegal? Those Forever Wars were the only things they ever spent grown-up amounts of money on, so what the hell . . .”

JUMP CUT

I wander the land.

Those Resident Evil and Robotech books never get old.

Sometimes I have to fight.

Sometimes I have to steal.

Sometimes I have to hide.

I’m not okay.

I’m okay adjacent.

JUMP CUT

I’m screaming as the Resident Evil and Robotech books extrude bouquets of drill-tipped “tentacles” and pierce my body all over.

“My God! All along! It was the books! IT WAS THE BOOOOOOOOKS!!!”

JUMP CUT

And now everything’s covered in ants.

JUMP-

Orson Welles eats the rest of the reel.

NOTIONAL HEADLINE #247:

WEEKEND ENTERTAINMENT INSERT SECTION LATE EDITION: FORMER U.S. PRESIDENT JOE BIDEN IN TALKS FOR A MAJOR STARRING ROLE IN AN UPCOMING RE-LAUNCH OF UNIVERSAL’S ‘THE MUMMY.’ AN INSIDER SPEAKING ON CONDITION OF ANONYMITY SAID THE FOLLOWING: “MR. BIDEN IS DEFINITELY IN HIS ‘IMHOTEP ERA,’ AND CONTENT PRODUCERS ARE DEFINITELY LOOKING TO EXPLOIT THIS.” IN RELATED NEWS, CURRENT U.S. PRESIDENT TRUMP IS RUMORED TO BE HAVING A RATHER MESSY AFFAIR WITH THE HUNTRIX MEAL ONLY AT MCDONALD’S . . . COMEDIAN DAVE CHAPPELLE IS SET TO CO-STAR WITH THE SAUDI CROWN PRINCE IN A LIGHT HEARTED ACTION FILM AS A PAIR OF WACKY, KNOCKAROUND SECRET POLICEMEN OBSESSED WITH HUNTING DOWN NAUGHTY JOURNALISTS. SET IN A FUTURISTIC DESERT KINGDOM, THE PROJECTED SUMMER RELEASE IS TENTATIVELY TITLED ‘BONESAW DUDES’ . . . A NEW STUDY SUGGESTS THAT THE CONTROVERSIAL HBO SERIES ‘EUPHORIA’ IS LIKELY TO REDEFINE THE DEFINITION OF ‘HATER’ AS RECORD NUMBERS OF ALLEGED HATERS WILL NO DOUBT BE GRINDING OUT NONSTOP VIDEO ESSAYS DENOUNCING THE SHOW AS PROBLEMATIC EVEN AS NORMAL PEOPLE WONDER, “WHY WOULD YOU SPEND ALL THAT TIME WATCHING SOMETHING YOU HATE? SEEMS LIKE A WASTE OF TIME IF YOU ASK ME . . .”

FANTASY MASHUP FORCE #35:

The Island of Dr. Fetterman

This one will require some kind of a time machine, so heads up on that.

Basically, we use the time machine to do a switcheroo of current Pennsylvania Senator John Fetterman and actor Marlon Brando from the 1996 (not so) classic movie The Island of Dr. Moreau. So, like, we put Marlon Brando into Fetterman’s clothes, and then we put John Fetterman into Brando’s memorable Dr. Moreau fits. 

And that’s about it . . . and, as elaborate as all this sounds . . . I’m not sure people will notice much of a difference. 

Maybe some people will watch an erratic on-camera Fetterman appearance or a scene from the impenetrably nonsensical Brando picture, and they’ll think to themselves:

“Huh. Has something changed? I feel like something’s off . . . like it’s different somehow . . . but I can’t quite put my finger on what . . . ah, well. Must be one of them thar Nelson Mandela Special Effects people like to talk about on the Internet.”

That’s about all you get on this one . . .

THE SECRETS OF FINAL TOWN 98

 

YOUR DRAWING PROMPT #99:

An atmospheric portrait of an after dinner speech given by a sentient air fryer in the context of an overall decline in Toastmasters memberships.

THE NEW OBVIOUS #50:

If you’re a U.S. President and you lie and cheat and steal and blaspheme the Christian religion and carry out mass deportations of innocent people and order gangs of masked ICE thugs to terrorize and murder people and you threaten to violently destroy an entire civilization and you order a missile attack that blows up a school filled with little girls-

-nothing happens to you.

Because you’re the U.S. President.

This is what’s been decided, apparently . . .

THINGS NEVER SAID #56:

“You know, this unwinnable Forever War needs a new front. I got a legacy to burnish, goddamnit!”

NOTIONAL HEADLINE #246:

“WE JUST COULDN’T GET HIM OUT OF THAT COUCH.” NEW INSIDER ACCOUNTS FROM THE SERENA HOTEL DESCRIBE VICE PRESIDENT VANCE’S FAILURE AT NEGOTIATING A PEACE DEAL WITH IRAN. APPARENTLY, IN ADDITION TO THE LUXURY ACCOMADATIONS-WHICH INCLUDED A STOCKED BUFFET, DAMN FINE COFFEE, AND COMFY BEDS-THERE WAS A SNAPPER OF A COUCH WHICH KEPT VANCE UP ALL NIGHT . . . WAFFLE HOUSE HAS ANNOUNCED A BRAND NEW INITIATIVE TO MODIFY ALL OF ITS PHYSICAL STORE LOCATIONS TO BE “TELEPORT FRIENDLY” . . . RUMORS OF A SECRET BACKSTAGE ASSIGNATION WITH BUBBA SWIRL AROUND PRESIDENT TRUMP’S RECENT QUESTIONABLE APPEARANCE AT A UFC EVENT . . .

FINISH LINE