BURNING QUESTIONS IN A UNIVERSE OF MYSTERY #92:

If the transporter on the Enterprise breaks down, do they have a spare David Copperfield in cryostorage as a backup?

‘Cause that Copperfield guy made the Statue of Liberty disappear temporarily, but then it was back. I always figured it had something to do with teleportation or whatever. 

And in the future you can clone people, right?

And I think it’s safe to assume refrigeration best practices have only gotten better and better in the future time.

So, you know, I’m just putting the puzzle pieces together.

EVERY DAY IS HALLOWEEN 26: MOUTH FULL OF HOT DOGS

crouching in my space

(an abandoned lot that used to be an Elks Lodge but has now done a sixteen year uninterrupted tour as an illegal dumping ground)

I’m issuing orders and prophecies

mostly

I’m using my gift to prophecy pizzas without paying for ‘em

cheeseburgers, donuts, wine, steaks, hot dogs now and again even though I’m kinda over hot dogs at this point

bring ‘em all right to my space

‘cause I put a voice into some heads that says so

it’s pretty awesome

my buddy

he’s the one that gets off on fomenting wars and bogus end-of-the-world announcements

I don’t approve

but he’s my buddy from way back

all the way from the back of my brain, first memories of loneliness relieved

but yeah

I also get lumped in with him

(likely ‘cause he operates from the back of the dumping ground)

like

I get blame/praise for being a voice of apocalypse

but that’s nothing to do with me

and as far as I know

my buddy doesn’t get any of my pizza action

which I think has to do

with people not able to perceive any sort of human enjoyment of things within an apocalypse pushing god so, of course, my buddy gets no treats, no snacks, no breaks

but I don’t know that for sure

plenty of pizza delivery people

tell me when they bring my pizzas

that they thought a mutant martial arts turtle guy was gonna be waitin’ for ‘em

or that a seductive woman would manifest to lead them into an extradimensional meat processor like that movie where Scarlett Johansson drives around in a rental van

or that they’re walking into an aboveground vampire rave

something like that

and then they might say

that they’re ready for apocalypse

their jobs suck

can’t afford food/rent/doctor/baby/weed/alcohol/tobacco

they got that student debt albatross around their neck

some are in miserable relationships

still others are pessimistic about Climate Inferno and the year round heat dome

a fair few think apocalypse will be like a movie or a video game, a total vibe, why not let it rip

I try to tell ‘em that’s a different being

that they want to talk to my buddy

I try to re-direct them to the back of the dumping ground

and a lot of ‘em get pissed off, start shouting

or lapse into menacing silence,

or they start shooting me with a gun, start shouting

or they have a complete psychological meltdown, start shouting

this one guy told me to go fuck myself, that I was a big phony, and that he-the pizza guy-was the true apocalypse god, and how he was gonna kick my ass, and tear down the world, and later I saw him on the news ‘cause he beat up fifteen out-of-shape cops while burning down a dying mall, and a whole parade of bogus authorities like the President and a police spokesman and all these asinine cable news pundits blamed “Wokeness,” and one reporter said it all had something to do with PCP,

and I’m thinkin’

yeah

I bet it was the PCP

that stuff’s no joke

but I don’t want to worry you

because you should know

I can’t be harmed

so far as I’ve experienced people’s frustrations and flailings

maybe if someone hit me with a nuke

but some pizza guy isn’t likely to get access to atomics,

hard to save up in a job like that,

you’re on a damn hamster wheel in a job like that,

but even if he did

I don’t think it would matter

I’m not that kind of god

my buddy and I have that in common

neither of us are the kinda gods you can kill

so far as I know

I get a lotta people telling me that All is God

that since God is everything

It must also be everyone

and we’re all just make believe creatures bouncing off each other inside God’s mind

and I think

sounds like real PCP talk

but no, I could see that

even if it doesn’t jibe with my own background

which is basically this

I come from this

what would you call it

it’s like the ultimate mouth full of hot dogs

but that’s an oversimplification

but, yeah, it’s like the ultimate mouth full of hot dogs

like if all the people

at all the hot dog eating contests

across all realities

merged

into a singular entity

or maybe it was like they decided

if such things are capable of making a decision

to have like a main spokesbeing or brand ambassador or lifestyle emissary

that would be me

it’s hard to put it in terms which people like yourself find satisfactory

and I apologize for that

I don’t mean to be difficult

but maybe some of you out there can relate

like

did you choose to be a pizza delivery guy

or did circumstances carry you along towards such an end

‘cause pizza delivery guys are needed

I certainly appreciate you

but it’s no kinda dream job in the usual sense 

and, well, the mouths full of hot dogs needed some kind of voice

hard to talk around all those hot dogs, right

so they manifested me

but mouths full of hot dogs

get caught up in things

so they don’t ask much of me

so I crouch in my place

keep myself fed

or rather

I habitually observe the forms of feeding

I don’t actually for real eat

don’t need to

but I like the hurlyburly of food coming my way, the uniformed professionalism of delivery staff, the vibes I trigger by crouching in my place among the commercial wastescape of bygone American retail ambitions, 

lotsa video content people show up ‘cause word spread about how haunted this place feels even if it doesn’t look like much on-camera,

how, 

like, 

a mile from me 

they built this thing called a Museum of Commerce-this one dude who used to work there in the gift shop told me this as he made a very professional pitch about why I should smite the world with billions of rhinoceros sized rats-that’s filled with what looks like this fake set of a once prosperous downtown business district that originally resembled some self-soothing fantasy of Midcentury but has been gradually renovated into this tacky-ass evocation of a bogus Millennium, and, yeah, I kinda want to meet the off-kilter god of that whole jerk-off if it even exists

we could have a real battle of the gods

God of the Illegal Dumping Ground vs God of the Jerkoff Potemkin Museum of Commerce

but that’s just me getting into my anger

I’m not much of a fighter

I’ll cool down soon enough

so yeah

I just crouch in my place

stay “fed”

think about things

try to run it all down

figure things out

lately

I think of myself much more as the God of the Illegal Dumping Ground

more than I think of myself as the God of the Mouth Full of Hot Dogs

because

and I hate to admit this

but I don’t understand what the Mouth Full of Hot Dogs is even saying

I used to, like, freestyle interpret what I thought it was saying

but that led to so many surreal outcomes

like the Jerkoff Potemkin Museum of Congress

that was my fault I’m pretty sure

and my buddy, the God of Apocalypse

who’s really more like a God of Disgruntled Apocalypse Payback Fantasias

yeah, I’m pretty sure I dreamed him up so I could fob people off of my cute ass

but that’s another damn mouthful

but

uh

my efforts to interpret the grunts and chomps and choking noises of the Mouth Full of Hot Dogs have only increased the chaos of this world

which doesn’t seem great

keeps me in pizza

but the downside’s steep

-May 2025-October 2025

THE SECRETS OF FINAL TOWN 81

THE NEW SIGNAGE #26:

SPONTANEOUS OUTPOURING OF FREEFORM SEPTIC TANK METAPHYSICS NEXT 10,000 MILES.

THIS-A-WAY!

NOTIONAL HEADLINE #214:

BURNING GHOST OF JEFFREY EPSTEIN REPORTED TO BE IN TALKS WITH JARED FOGLE TO LAUNCH A GOURMET SUB SANDWICH POP-UP. EPSTEIN IS ALSO PUSHING FORMER BESTIE PRESIDENT TRUMP TO PARDON FOGLE, AS WELL AS R. KELLY AND GHISLAINE MAXWELL, BOTH OF WHOM ARE BEING CONSIDERED AS POTENTIAL CELEBRITY INFLUENCERS FOR A NATIONAL CHAIN LAUNCH . . . IN OTHER NEWS, RECORD NUMBERS OF AMERICAN HOUSEHOLDS ARE NOW CONSIDERED ‘FOOD INSECURE,’ WITH SOME EXPERTS PREDICTING A ‘HUNGER CATASTROPHE’ AS FOOD STAMP PROGRAMS ARE GUTTED BY REPUBLICANS . . . AND WHITE HOUSE PRESS SECRETARY KAROLINE LEAVITT IS BEING CONSIDERED FOR THE ROLE OF ‘CASH ME OUTSIDE GIRL’ IN A POTENTIAL REBOOT OF DR. PHIL STARRING TOM SELLECK . . .

YOUR DRAWING PROMPT #84:

An oblique approach to purposeful vagueness.

"All right, Mr. DeMille, I'm ready for my far-away."

SIMPLE PLEASURES #17:

Eating donuts while reading a Lensman novel.

THE SECRETS OF FINAL TOWN 80

NOTIONAL HEADLINE #213:

PRESIDENT TRUMP-WHO SUPPORTED PUTIN BEFORE OPPOSING HIM-VOICES SUPPORT FOR PUTIN. EXPERTS PREDICT THAT THE AMERICAN PRESIDENT WILL LIKELY ONCE AGAIN OPPOSE THE RUSSIAN DICTATOR BEFORE ONCE AGAIN SUPPORTING HIM. EXPERTS ALSO SAY THAT RUSSIA’S MASS SLAUGHTER OF UKRAINE’S CIVILIAN POPULATION IS LIKELY NOT A SERIOUS FACTOR IN THE AMERICAN PRESIDENT’S THINKING . . . 

FANTASY MASHUP FORCE #21:

The dogs from Audition and Anatomy of a Fall team up to rescue the dog lost in the mines from Where the Green Ants Dream.

F.A.Q. #22:

Q: What’s your favorite Springsteen song?

A: “Last Springsteen” from the Contra: Hard Corps OST.

YOUR DRAWING PROMPT #83:

Darth Vader headbutts people . . . but it’s clear that he intends it not as an attack but as a highly idiosyncratic way of greeting his fans.

FUN YOU CAN HAVE #15:

Stage a production of Shakespeare’s The Tempest where you do the entire text, with no deletions, but you add a guy who sits on stage saying, “No shit . . .” in a tone of impressed bewilderment at the end of all the major speeches and iconic lines.

THINGS NEVER SAID #47:

“I would like to apologize for not being as social lately with all of you fine people, for I have been caught up in a fugue state tunnel entirely constructed out of 1990s nostalgia. This endless fantasia features dialogue scripted by David Mamet and Quentin Tarantino; cinematography by Christopher Doyle; fight choreography by Jerry Springer and Yuen Woo-ping; stop motion animation transformations by Shinya Tsukamoto; costume design by the Gap; an original theme song by Will Smith; original score by Jerry Goldsmith; catering by Subway; toilet by a vintage blue chemical Porta-Potty; a final boss battle by Sephiroth; posture of slackery quasi-defiance of authority by Ben Stiller, Kurt Cobain, and Janeane Garofalo; and flawless direction from Andy Sidaris.The curated tie-in compact disc soundtrack features hot tracks from Garbage, Smash Mouth, 2Pac, Alanis Morissette, Sonic Youth, Alice in Chains, Harvey Danger, Paul Shaffer and the CBS Orchestra, Green Day, Shania Twain, Hole, Dinosaur Jr., Bone Thugs-n-Harmony, The Red Hot Chili Peppers, Aimee Mann, Massive Attack, Fatboy Slim, and Vitamin C-which you can listen to on one of those keypad’n’headphones thingys at your local Sam Goodys and/or Virgin Megastore. The novelization is by Randall Boyll. The laserdisc will be put out by Criterion. The fecalware tie-in video game is by Activision. It’s the best of times, it’s the so-bad-it’s-good of times. I save the Earth from a giant space rock. Jar-Jar Binks is my computer generated sidekick. Me and Oliver Stone down some ‘shrooms while uncovering a JFK conspiracy. Mulder and Scully consult me for my expertise on Mothman and Chupacabra. I option a John Grisham novel’s movie rights. I’m no stranger to the all-u-can-eat pizza buffet. I’m setting trends when I hang out at the mall. I exclusively read airport paperbacks. People think I’m secretly Marilyn Manson. People think I’m the actual author of the latest Stephen King books. People are convinced I’m the “lost” Backstreet Boy. I give Bill Clinton public speaking lessons. I knock out Mike Tyson. People are convinced I’m the “lost” Spice Girl. I’m accused of writing Letterman’s Top Ten Lists. I’m blamed for Jay Leno’s blandness. People keep asking me why Charles Grodin got serious. There’s a rumor that I keep trying to get Tom Snyder to light up once again on camera, standards and practices be damned. I’m invited to join O.J. Simpson’s legal dream team. Bill Gates personally updates my operating system-which then becomes a satirical episode in a Douglas Coupland novel. At the peak of my fame and relevancy, I am officially mutated into a prime time Ninja Turtle Power Ranger. As a low key follow-up project I do a penetrating interview with the dude who wrote that End of History book. In my precipitous decline, my fanbase deserts me, claims I’m nothing but trash reality shows, and that I don’t even play music videos anymore. I end as I began: a living punchline. So, you know, it’s great to finally be back just in time to cash in on the current 1990s nostalgia wave . . .”

THE SECRETS OF FINAL TOWN 79

COMICS REVIEW: LAWNS (2018)

Written and drawn by Alex Nall

Book design by Mike Freiheit.

Edited by Jon Mastantuono.

Published by Kilgore Books in July 2018.

. . .

“The whole town is crazy right now. It’s shameful the way people are treating each other. It’s enough to make you stop going outside. Things were different-back when you were here . . . What happened to the people that used to care for one another-the sense of decency and care. I’m beginning to wonder if it was ever here in the first place-or if it’s just something I imagined."

-caption text from Lawns (2018)

. . .

Review by William D. Tucker.

Lawns is a creator-owned black and white comic book or graphic novel that depicts a contentious small town mayoral contest. If I may resort to a vapid cliche I would sum up Lawns as “deceptively simple.” It’s a little over one hundred pages, and everything you need to comprehend it lies between its two covers. This is not like the endless corporate superhero soap operas of Marvel and DC. The art style is, at first glance, studiously unimpressive in its depiction of dirt poor working class people playing out their existences in a rural Illinois no-place. But if you read it through to the end you may find these lives rich with struggles, delusions, and hopes for the future.

There’s a town of 187 souls in some kind of nowhere-doesn’t even have a name. You have to drive sixteen miles southeast to a town called Sandbag for a grocery store. This is all according to the handy worldbuilding map on the back of the cover. Not a castle or a dragon in sight.

Allegedly, everybody knows everyone . . . but it’s not really like that. Everyone’s in close proximity, sure, but everyone’s also a prisoner of their own perceptions. 

There’s a guy named Chuck who has run unopposed and been elected and re-elected mayor over and over again. Chuck owns a tile and lumber store. Chuck’s hair is white, now, but it was still black when he first got sworn in. Aside from that-and a developing heart problem-not much has changed for Chuck. At one point, according to Chuck, the state was going to build a landfill nearby, bring in a bunch of decent paying sanitation jobs. But Chuck claims he argued against it, not wanting his beloved hometown to be defined by trash. This was, seemingly, Chuck’s last notable achievement as mayor, his last great stand, but that was a minute ago. Now, he faces a set of challenges to his long tenure in office. 

There’s a rogue canine shitting on people’s lawns. A kid has been bitten by that dog-or maybe it was some other mutt. The weird guy who owns the shithound-Roger-also refuses to properly maintain his yard. Roger’s next door neighbor is Carl, who installs windows for his living. Carl is tired of Roger’s recklessly pooping dog and his overgrown lawn. Carl also thinks Chuck is weak shit as mayor. Carl decides to run for office. 

Of course, weird guy Roger has his own perspective on things. He wouldn’t describe himself as weird. He just knows what he wants out of life. Roger likes his dog. Roger likes dogs in general. Roger does not like it when kids torment dogs with bottle rockets. Roger likes his overgrown lawn. Roger isn’t put off by bugs and wild animals. Roger isn’t looking for a fight, but he just does not give a fuck what other people think. We find out about Roger’s past, and why it is he values what he values in life.

The kid who got bit-Joshua-seems to have needlessly provoked the dog into attacking him. Joshua’s injuries cost his father eight hundred dollars at the hospital. Joshua’s father ends up beating him with a belt in frustration. I guess Joshua’s dad is fine paying for the injuries he himself inflicts. 

Joshua and Roger have quite a bit in common. Roger grew up with an abusive father and a mother who didn’t have much interest in him. So Roger struck out on his own, developing self-sufficiency at the cost of social graces. Roger lives in his head most of the time aside from the connections he makes with dogs and the natural world. Joshua, too, seems to be on track to become a runaway as the story unfolds.

Mildred, an impoverished elderly woman with back problems, is Roger’s one substantial human connection. Mildred spends her days writing letters to her long dead husband, Walter. Actually, it isn’t entirely clear if Mildred and Walter were ever married, or if Walter even actually existed, but her letters are sincerely written. Mildred’s nostalgic for a kinder, gentler past that she fully acknowledges might be a total fantasy. She has a car. She drives herself and Walter to the grocery store in Sandbag at regular intervals.

Carl runs a mean-spirited campaign against Chuck. At one point he stands by the road holding up a sign that says, “FUCK CHUCK.” One of Carl’s supporters puts up a more politically correct sign that says, “F**K CHUCK.” Chuck’s tough messaging seems to strike a chord with people who are tired of the same old cheese and crackers year after year.

But other people in town appreciate the benign stasis of Chuck’s eternal reign as mayor. Chuck’s super nice, after all, brings people cookies as part of his campaign outreach, doesn’t stoop to Carl’s gutter politics. Still other potential voters simply do not care. I won’t reveal the outcome, but the election ends up having the lowest turnout in the nameless town’s history. Amusingly, it might be the case that we end up seeing all of the participating voters over the course of Lawns’ 101 pages, so the turnout might be in low double or high single digits. 

Carl may put some readers in mind of Donald Trump, but remember that Carl actually works for a living. Trump inherited his fortune. Carl installs windows, and he seems to be good at it. Trump, who occupied the White House back in 2018 when Lawns was published as he does in the present year of 2025, has never had a real job, nor has he demonstrated any bankable skills aside from seeking attention from mass media outlets. Carl’s a jerk in how he goes after Chuck, but he can only exert so much influence in an impoverished town of 187 people. When Carl comes back down to earth after the high of his campaign, well, he has to be able to look other people in the eye. These limits are, perhaps, stifling, but they arguably put guard rails around a man tap dancing on the border between being a public servant and mutating into a demagogue.

All of this seems to be taking place in some hazily defined early 1990s. No internet. No (anti)social media to stoke conspiracy theories and online hate mobs. People gossip. People talk shit on the (landline)phone or in person. But they still have to face their neighbors. Even Roger and Mildred-oddballs who live in their heads-have to leave their houses to buy stuff and socialize. Carl’s girlfriend ditches him over his self-absorption and gutter politics. Chuck’s wife questions whether or not being the Forever Mayor is worth the stress. People are accountable to other people in their actual meatspace lives in Lawns, as opposed to an algorithm, a cadre of billionaire Dark Money puppeteers, or a rigid ideology. 

Lawns is not romantic in its depiction of its sparsely populated no-place. I think writer/artist Alex Nall is taking the “warts-and-all” approach. But Nall is also reminding us of how things might work in a world where you could not entirely deny the existence of the reality external to your perceptions and prejudices. It’s something worth considering.

ANGEL ON A STICK.

 

NOTIONAL HEADLINE #212:

ENTERTAINMENT SCOOP: TONY ROBBINS IN TALKS TO VOICE DARTH VADER . . . JRPG PROTAGONIST EXPRESSES MILD REGRETS OVER KILLING GOD, FRUSTRATION ABOUT ‘PEAKING TOO EARLY’ . . . RIYADH COMEDY FESTIVAL LINEUP BOOKED TO PERFORM FOR VLADIMIR PUTIN IN MOSCOW AND JEFFREY EPSTEIN IN THE NINTH CIRCLE . . .

THE NEW SIGNAGE #25:

IMPROMPTU REGENCY ERA DANCE CONTEST NEXT 10,000 MILES.

YOUR DRAWING PROMPT #82:

A meats-and-bones plumber refuses to be replaced by a liquid plumber.

FANTASY MASHUP FORCE #20:

Darth Vader throws Green Goblin pumpkin bombs at Luke Skywalker. Luke fends them off with his lightsaber. So Vader cranks his chainsaw. Lotta sparks . . .

FUN YOU CAN HAVE #14:

If you have a Green Goblin action figure there is no known law preventing you from buying a bag of those little candy pumpkins to use as throwable pumpkin bombs to blast that pesky Spider-Man into Arachnid Heaven.

Spider-Man action figure sold separately.

THE SECRETS OF FINAL TOWN 78

A LIGHT IN THE COMMERCIAL WASTELAND.

NOTIONAL HEADLINE #211:

LAWYERS FOR REEKING PILE OF DOGSHIT THREATEN TO SUE ANYONE WHO CONTINUES TO PUBLICLY COMPARE AND/OR CONFUSE THEIR CLIENT WITH CONGRESSIONAL REPUBLICANS.

THINGS NEVER SAID #46:

“Well, boys, it’s out of the picnic and into the picnic basket!”

YOUR DRAWING PROMPT #81:

The map of all map makers.

SIMPLE PLEASURES #16:

Reading a Harley Quinn comic and a Captain America comic back-to-back for contrasting views of freedom.

VISION STATEMENT 2

 

THE SECRETS OF FINAL TOWN 77

 

LOADING SCREEN WISDOM #42:

FIGHTING IN HELL IS, OF COURSE, DANGEROUS, BUT THE WEIRD REALITY OF THE PLACE FACILITATES DEVELOPMENT OF BIZARRE NEW POWERS AND POTENT NEW FIGHTING TECHNIQUES. PROCEED WITH CAUTION, BUT STAY ALIVE TO THE EXTREME POSSIBILITIES.