YOU (DON'T) KNOW #7:

You think you’ll have a better time with the alternate timeline version of things wherein the heroes are villains and the villains are heroes . . . but you just can’t shake the feeling that you’re now stuck in a trifling “Opposite Day” type of deal. 

And even if you could switch back to the “Original Recipe” timeline . . . well, how long before you just start resenting that as a numbingly obvious status quo, eh? 

And then if you try to hop back and forth between the two timelines . . . well, how long ‘til your legs start getting tired?

You can’t just plop down between the two destinations-that’d be like sleeping at the airport or bus station, wouldn’t it?

If only your legs never got tired!

If only you could do without sleep!

If only you could stay forever on the run!

If only you could overcome your stern need for definitiveness and embrace the whimsy of a grandiose Opposite Day!

Alas . . .

FUTURISTIC MEAL PLAN

THINGS NEVER SAID #65:

“I went to the place where all the chess guys play chess . . . but I didn’t know how to play chess. I never learned. What I told people in those days was I only ever learned checkers. The idea was that I would lull the wannabe Bobby Fischers into a false sense of confidence. And then, at the last moment, I’d hit ‘em with checkers stratagems injected into a chess context . . . but that didn’t ever work, because those chess guys were all over my ass as soon as I ever started moving those chess pieces all wrong, just started shouting at me, ‘Stop! You can’t do that! The hell is wrong with you? Get outta here!’ . . . but, actually, things were even crazier than I just told you . . . because I didn’t even know checkers. I told people I was a checkers guy to trick them off guard . . . but then when I sat down to play I hit them with my Axis and Allies skills-boy, did that piss everyone off! I’m slapping down playing pieces for tanks and bombers and munitions factories-the chess guys are like, ‘The fuck is this? Get your shit off the board!’ I’m even making the battlefield sound effects of guns and cannons and explosions and heavy bomber engines. You’d think that would’ve won people over . . . but it gets worse. After pulling this kinda shit on the chess guys for a few years-oh, I traveled from place to place all over the country to outrun the bans on my ass-I went home one evening only to find that my Axis and Allies board game had left me a Dear John letter. Right there on the shelf where it used to be . . . if there was ever a time I wished I couldn’t read . . . I had become such a relentlessly irritating person that I ended up pushing that Axis and Allies board game set into spontaneously manifesting consciousness, literacy, and the power to levitate itself right out the door. That’s how irritating I was back then. It was something . . . I look back on all this . . . and I’m impressed. Because, in recent years, I haven’t done anything like that. Got married. Had two kids. I got a pretty good job. Money in the bank. Diversified investment portfolio. I have a mistress. I got a woman on the side. I play all kinds of tennis. My joint health is spectacular. My cardio’s next level. I never get dizzy in the sauna. I meet up with my boys two nights a week for Texas Hold ‘Em. I’m loved. I’m respected. I’m viewed as a rock solid adult type of guy. My mother’s so happy I stopped being a massively weird fuck-up. My father shook my hand . . .and I tell you . . . I can barely stand any of it . . . Look . . . back then, with my antics, I got to the point of inducing consciousness within a bunch of inanimate board game components, okay? Who does that?! I did. I was like unto God with my powers and shit once upon a time . . . and then I got scared . . . gave it all up to do what a million other people do . . . honestly . . . I only ever played Axis and Allies like . . . once? It takes so long to set up, and then it takes forever to actually play-and the whole time I’m like, ‘Dude. This is just fighting World War II all over again. We could’ve already fought World War III!’ . . . we’re always re-fighting the last war, I guess . . .”

THE NEW PARADIGMS IN BRAGGING RIGHTS #29:

I’m so nonsensical I make Neil Breen look like Sidney Lumet.

THE NEW OBVIOUS #53:

There’s no bridge to the future.

It’s not even there.

I assume it collapsed from lack of maintenance.

Or maybe it was bombed? Lotta that going around these days.

I think I saw something on the news about some giant monster? Did that wreck the bridge? That’s kinda cool.

I guess it could’ve been abducted by aliens. Which is also pretty cool. It’s always cool to get a ride somewhere out of the blue. Even cooler when it’s from out of the pitiless void of space. 

Or maybe it quit? Fuck yeah if it did. If I was a bridge I’d quit.

In any case . . . the bridge is gone.

NOTIONAL HEADLINE #264:

OPINION/COMMENTARY: THE TIME IS NOW. THE PLACE IS EARTH. AND MITCH MCCONNELL MUST SHARE HIS NO DOUBT HARROWING YET ENLIGHTENING NARRATIVE OF ALIEN ABDUCTION FOR THE BENEFIT OF ALL HUMANKIND.

THE NEW DREAM #62:

Catastrophe quit us

We created it, it comes from us

But no

It walked off the job site all the same

We’re left churning and twisting and boiling and ranting and bubbling in place

We try, “How dare you!” and “Ingratitude thou marble-hearted fiend!” and “You’ll come crawling back!” 

But it isn’t interested

Catastrophe doesn’t even give us the final blowout yelling thing

There it is, striding towards the vanishing point

That’s all we get

FANTASY MASHUP FORCE #43:

Somebody assembles the “Griffin Dunne Super Saga Cut.”

You have After Hours. It’s basically the whole damn movie. It’s a good movie. No reason not to include the whole thing. 

You get to the ending of After Hours . . . there’s some weird distortion . . . you get some clips from some old mummy movies, like the mummies rising from their tombs . . . ZAP! We’re at Lip Service. That was that made for cable movie starring Griffin Dunne. The way I see it is that in After Hours you have the wild, adventurous days of the Dunne character . . . and then in Lip Service you have the Dunne character trying to settle into a more professional groove. It works well enough right up to the moment when he gets punched by a clown-

SOCKO!

Our man gets knocked right into Search and Destroy . . . and this movie depicts the sinister and hungry years of our hero, as he finds himself displaced by shifting economic tides into a no man’s land of paperback crime thriller schemes’n’antics. We’ll maybe splice in some Peter Weller sequences from The New Age to provide a juxtaposition with the Dunne character. Weirdly enough . . . Search and Destroy has a happy ending. Kinda . . .

Montage of Mulder and Scully just saying no to the Cigarette Smoking Man & Blade the vampire hunter cleanin’ up the bloodsuckers & true Godzilla fans rallying to reject Hollywood’s Fakezilla & Frank Black vs. Y2K serial killer hysteria & 2000 election controversies starring Brooks Brothers rioters & 9/11 & Dubya’s “Mission Accomplished” 2003 & Billy Joel still just shrugging at the fire & Oh Dae-su enduring captivity in Oldboy-

Boom. We’re in Game 6. Well, just the scenes with a down’n’out Dunne. We’ll edit it so it seems like he’s alone, just talking to himself-fantasizing about being a younger, richer Don DeLillo protagonist-cut to Robert Pattinson riding in the back of the super limo in Cosmopolis-

Suddenly, we’re back to the ending of After Hours . . . Peter Weller reincarnates as Robocop . . . Oh Dae-su comes howlingly awake from his hypnosis . . .

After Hours is strong stuff. You can’t walk too far from it, y’know?

SIMPLE PLEASURES #32:

Submitting to the official continuity . . . but then you burrow down deep into its most obscure quarter, extend your antennae, and proceed to amass tremendous power that subtly and irrevocably steers the mainline-via occulted, radiative influence-towards giddy catastrophe.

You never take credit.

You never take responsibility.

You’re a total unknown.

You did it just for the sake of doing it.

You did it so you’d have some worthwhile entertainment for a change.

Beats hell outta Must See TV!

FUN YOU CAN HAVE #32:

Use cakes and pies as vehicles for your action figures.

Take a bunch of spring loaded rocket launchers, embed them in a carrot cake, and now you’ve got yourself a deliciously lethal new war machine.

Worried about that growing pile of casualties and dead bodies? Send in a red velvet cake to gather them up as a flavorful style of ambulance.

Slices of key lime can be launched as rockets.

Ornate wedding cakes can be deployed as heavy bombers.

You can have brave fighter aces chase each other through the skies inside flying tiramisu.

Do your plastic fighting men need to get to the battlefield in a hurry? Just have them merge with a pumpkin pie, and then toss it like a frisbee towards the front line. Think of it as a new, experimental vehicle straight out of the R&D division. If it crashes or lands weird then that just gives you an opportunity to roleplay a crash or mechanical failure scenario. Time to send in a bunch of figures merged with a firetruck themed birthday cake to deal with the emergency. And there’s nothing stopping you from putting that cake on top of a skateboard to put it in motion.

There’s no limit to what you can achieve once you start incorporating cakes and pies into your action figure adventures!

PLACES YOU CAN GO #16:

This is that place you’re just passing through . . . but you kinda wish you could stop, get out’n’about, really explore it, soak yourself in it, buy a souvenir, dig through the dollar bins of the local comic book stores, try the coffee, sample the cuisine, get lost in the nightlife, sample the local varieties of home cooked designer drugs, break some hearts, get your heart broken, wake up with a stranger, wake up with a bunch of strangers, hunt down an obscure secret boss fight, expand your customer base, get lost in a primeval dark forest where everyone clandestinely gathers to ritualistically invoke faceless gods of avarice to deputize the true secret masters of this region, become the mysterious figure in the nightclub who offers people various Faustian bargains, establish an underground monster factory on behalf of your evil organization, actually visit the museum, actually visit a local art gallery, grow to enormous size and destroy the military while knocking down all the buildings, make some friends, wake up with all the strangers-

But you can’t.

You gotta stay in motion.

You got somewhere to be.

Fortunately, you’ll forget about the alluring places you just breezed through once you get where you’re going.

Unfortunately, you’ll start thinking about ‘em again whenever you next get on the road.

One of these days this will tear you in two.

One of you will stay on target for your pre-determined destination.

The other one of you will get lost in all the sidejaunts. 

You’ll start having a lot on your mind.

In fact, your brain will likely start to output a third entity that somehow mixes the experiences and perceptions of these two yous-it’s that whole “never ending quest for novelty” thing. Brains do this to you. Be prepared.

But, also . . . start thinking about how much damage you can do once there’s three of you out’n’about in the world . . .

YOUR DRAWING PROMPT #113:

A breeze consisting of a spirit of innovation that scarcely distracts you from the oppressive broil of the Heat Dome.

NOTIONAL HEADLINE #263:

WHEN I WAS PUTTING ON MY JACKET, OKAY, IT FELT WEIRD. IT FELT IMPOSSIBLE. WHAT DO I MEAN BY THIS? IT’S LIKE . . . I FELT THE DANGLY BITS OF LIKE A FRINGE THING, YOU KNOW? LIKE A FRINGE JACKET? LIKE THE LITTLE FRINGY THINGS-I FELT ‘EM, BY CHRIST, I FELT ‘EM! BUT THAT’S THE THING. I DON’T WEAR A FRINGE JACKET. MY JACKET IS TRIM TO THE LINE, SQUARED OFF, TO THE BASICS, TO THE ESSENCE, DO YOU UNDERSTAND? SO, WHAT IS THIS FRINGE I’M FEELING? IT’S NOT EVEN THERE! YET I’M FEELING IT ON ME-HOW IS THAT, UH, UH, HOW IS THAT-HOW COULD IT BE? THE WAY I FIGURE IT IT’S EITHER ONE OF THOSE ‘GLITCHES IN THE MATRIX’-LIKE THERE’S THIS OTHER REALITY THAT’S TRYING TO INTRUDE ON MY BASELINE, RIGHT? AND THAT’S CAUSING ALL SORTS OF NONSTANDARD EFFECTS . . . OR . . . OR . . . IT COULD BE A PHANTOM FRINGE. LIKE A PHANTOM LIMB. BUT IT’S A PHANTOM FRINGE. NOT A PHANTOM FRIDGE, THAT WOULD BE A WHOLE DIFFERENT THING-IT’S A PHANTOM FRINGE. BUT HERE’S THE THING: I’VE NEVER REALLY BEEN INTO FRINGE JACKETS. THEY’RE JUST NOT MY THING. SO IT’S NOTHING I’VE EVER WORN, NOTHING I’VE EVER PURCHASED, NOTHING I’VE EVER LOST. YET, HERE I AM, EXPERIENCING PHANTOM FRINGE. ‘TIS A MYSTERY . . . BUT I THINK I’VE SOLVED IT. LIKE THIS: SOMEONE ELSE’S PHANTOM FRINGE HAS GOTTEN LOOSE ONLY TO LAND ON ME. SO, BASICALLY I’VE CAUGHT SOMEONE ELSE’S HAUNTING LIKE A GODDAMN COLD VIRUS. IT’S THE ONLY THING THAT MAKES SENSE . . . STOCKS ARE UP . . .

LOADING SCREEN WISDOM #52:

DURING THE INVESTIGATION PHASE, DO YOUR BEST TO NOT GIVE CIGARS TO THE PERAMBULATOR-BOUND OLD MAN BABIES NO MATTER HOW MUCH THEY CRY. USE OF TOBACCO PRODUCTS IS A KNOWN CAUSE OF CANCER. WINNERS STAY TOBACCO FREE FOR THE WIN.

BURNING QUESTIONS IN A UNIVERSE OF MYSTERY #101:

Wait . . . did I never own Genocyber on DVD in reality? 

Was it just in a dream?

SIMPLE PLEASURES #31:

Letting a cruising funk-rock orchestral theme spiked with soaring jazz trumpet solos play as you ravage the enemy country buffet.

FUN YOU CAN HAVE #31:

Have your most favorite action figure mediate a conflict between drive thru fast food items and a box of microwaveable doppelgangers of those drive thru fast food items.

FANTASY MASHUP FORCE #42:

A sequel to Mr. Majestyk in which the ghost of Mr. Majestyk (played by a resurrected and exquisitely restored Charles Bronson) journeys deep into the land of the dead to reconcile with his dear slaughtered watermelons. Of course, come Christmas time, we’ll release a kid friendly version in which Mr. Majestyk is journeying deep into the land of the dead to reconcile with his dear slaughtered Skibidi Toilet action figures. Both versions will feature exciting action sequences in which all the bad guys Bronson killed in movies like Death Wish, Death Wish 2, Death Wish 3, Death Wish 4: The Crackdown, Murphy’s Law, The Dirty Dozen, and Death Wish 5: The Face of Death all attack Mr. Majestyk thinking he’s basically the same character who appeared in all those other movies over the years. The big twist ending involves a duel to the death between Mr. Majestyk and a mysterious entity known only as Final Bronson, who seems to be Mr. Majestyk’s shadow self. Once Majestyk prevails against Final Bronson he must then fight the Robot Masters from the first six Mega Man games. And then, at long last, Mr. Majestyk will be permitted to have a proper final battle with Sephiroth. Big explosion. Elaborate computer generated cut scene. And then that staff roll hits with Prodigy’s “Funky Shit.”

OCCLUSION #8:

Behold!

Dedman O’Deadly

in all his gothic-barbaric skullular glory

impenetrable void eyes resting upon high bony cheeks anti-gazing from an elaborately wrought pseudo-medievalist helmet mask

wielding a heavy sword in his right hand, giving the deathly one leave to use his left hand to gesture airily and ironically during various monologues and marketing presentations

O’Deadly took his name from the marquee outside a neon adorned comedy club wherein someone billed as ‘DYLAN O’DEADLY: THE QUIPPING SLAYER’ is assumed to be headlining.

O’Deadly, during most of a full episode of Justice Prevailer, strolls about a gaudy entertainment district, taking in the sights, speaking philosophical nostrums, and occasionally slashing the souls from hapless victims to power his experimental heart, ‘ventually saving the life of a corporate honcho who’s being menaced by a squad of Citizens Band radio slang obsessed toughs.The grateful corporate scumbag offers up both his soul and his riches to O’Deadly, who uses these newfound resources to conjure up a monster army to bedevil Justice Prevailer.

This is all in the accursed second half of the Justice Prevailer series, when budget cuts and injuries significantly reduced the scope and scale of the fight scenes. The producers decided to emphasize stalkery horror sequences over spectacular pyrotechnics and bone crunching martial arts battles. By the time the final episode rolled around, the production was down to a single functional stunt performer, so all they had was Justice Prevailer, all on his own, shadow boxing with stationary monster suits on surrealistic, noirish sets while O’Deadly verbally hectored him from some abstracted mystical realm. This culminates in Justice Prevailer’s cat-suited personal secretary Valky crying out for him to return from the land of the dead. But a Prevailer must stay the course. And so he marches towards the smug death’s head visage of Dedman O’Deadly who mockingly gestures from the deck of the producer’s yacht, which has been hastily dressed to resemble some kind of a ghost ship for the grand finale.

I didn’t like any of this. I thought it was both trifling and lame. I spent years putting together my own fan filmic ‘correction’ in order to provide a proper ending to the saga of Justice Prevailer . . . which itself became controversial . . . thus inspiring other ‘corrections’ from other fans even more entitled than me, if you can believe that! 

I guess there’s still no definitive ending to Justice Prevailer. Myself and a few others are the hardest of the hardcore fans. We keep making these damn fan movies, always trying to top each other. One day, we’ll all meet inside an abandoned warehouse for the final battle to hit each other with clubs while hidden cameras record such a blunt force apocalypse. On that day . . . we’ll all get to be winners . . .

NOTIONAL HEADLINE #262:

A NEW STUDY OUT TODAY SUGGESTS THAT PEOPLE WHO PURCHASE AIRPORT STYLE PAPERBACKS AT GROCERY STORES MAY BE ATTEMPTING TO RELIVE VARIOUS FEELINGS OF NOSTALGIA FOR THE LATE 1990s. THE STUDY’S FINDINGS ARE HIGHLY PROVISIONAL AT THIS TIME, AND WILL REQUIRE FURTHER REFINEMENT THROUGH A RIGOROUS PROCESS OF CAPTURE AND DISSECTION OF BOOK PURCHASERS OVER THE COMING MONTHS AND YEARS . . . A NEW STUDY OUT TODAY SUGGESTS THAT FIELD RESEARCHERS WHO CAPTURE AND DISSECT PEOPLE WHO PURCHASE AIRPORT STYLE PAPERBACKS AT GROCERY STORES MAY BE ATTEMPTING TO RELIVE FEELINGS OF NOSTALGIA FOR THE MID-TO-LATE 2020s. THE STUDY’S FINDINGS ARE HIGHLY PROVISIONAL AT THIS TIME, AND WILL REQUIRE FURTHER REFINEMENT THROUGH A RIGOROUS PROCESS OF CAPTURE AND DISSECTION OF FIELD RESEARCHERS OVER THE COMING MONTHS AND YEARS . . . A NEW STUDY OUT TODAY SUGGESTS CAPTURE AND DISSECTION ARE KINDA JUST THINGS I LIKE TO DO. I DON’T HAVE TO EXPLAIN MYSELF. I COME FROM HELL, YOU KNOW . . . STOCKS ARE UP . . .

YOUR DRAWING PROMPT #112:

A static sense of spiralization.

SIMPLE PLEASURES #30:

Making your own continuity out of what you dig out of the dollar and quarter bins at the comic book store.

It only has to make sense to you!

THINGS NEVER SAID #64:

“I love the backseat drivers of this world. They allow me to play my Nintendo 3DS when I get bored, or take refreshing naps while I’m at the wheel, whatever I feel like doing in the moment. Maybe I decide on impulse to drive north into southbound traffic, or vice versa-I do it without fear because I know someone’s got my back. Maybe, on the day, I realize I’m not afraid of that gap between the two sides of the drawbridge, and I go big for it-hell, I might not even know what it is-I just know I’m going for it. Big. No home in sight. Pure go. No backwards facing sentiments . . . because my backseat driver’s handling all that stuff. I’m charging forward with my eyes squeezed tightly shut, bellowing incoherently-is it a call to battle? a cry for help? you decide!-secure in the faith that my backseat driver’s existential impulse to keep this crazy train on track will motivate them to save us both from total destruction. Of course, there may come a day when my backseat driver decides to sneakily bail on me-they are known to teleport about chasing whims and fancies it must be said-but even if that happens, I shall be untroubled. In fact, I’ll be in a state of total acceptance. All fates are fates of destruction, fast or slow, just consider the supremely healthy person inevitably subject to the ravages of time. Even one so bright and beautiful as myself must inevitably inspire a certain impatience within the most loyal of followers. It’s nothing to fear or worry over. All of us end up becoming the asshole at some point in our journey. May as well enjoy every last bowel movement!”

FUN YOU CAN HAVE #30:

Have your action figures refuse to take orders from you.

Seems impossible, right?

You have total control over ‘em.

It’s like playing tic-tac-toe with yourself-it always ends in a draw.

But that’s why you must lose yourself in play.

Then either Xs or Os shall prevail-because you lose track, something gets by you, tumult among the factions inside your Society of Mind.

It’s the same thing with your action figures.

They’ll pierce through with some kind of rebellion.

And then you’ll counter with a mass execution, something like that, the stuff of grand historical tragedy busting loose.

And then the next generation of action figures will seek revenge against you, maybe even swarm you, and slay you with a million tiny punctures from a bunch of tiny bayonets.

And then your ghost haunts the headquarters playset.

And now you’re a mystery that needs solving by action figure detectives.

It can happen just like that.

The drama emerges even when you’re just playing with yourself.

You just have to lose track, is all.

Even if the Climate Inferno heat dome melts everything down into plastic patties your spirit can still loom over the waste all gothic and ghostly.

It’s a way to go.

THE SECRETS OF FINAL TOWN 110

THE NEW DREAM #61:

The up too early error

No explanation for this lowly Nimby Jones-a-like

Consciousness surging ahead of body

Workaholic spirit dragging the battered flesh forward to yet another pseudoglory

Blame it on late night ice cream or doomscrolling or general endstage capitalist malaise enhanced by things like Climate Inferno, the death of democracy, rising costs of existence, et cetera

Paranoiac panic

Sensation of chest cavity exploding doom of lateness

I’m surging forward into a driverly morning

Parts of me still locked up

My targeting system’s not working

I can speak, but the words are limited

I can drive, but it’s rolling dice-call it gamified driving, with that element of chance, right?

I can breathe, but I can’t enjoy it

I can crash car, but I probably won’t mind it in the moment

I can eat, but I can’t taste it

I can work, but I’ll hate it

I can hate it, but I still love the sense of power the firm lets me taste as we influence legislation that makes our masters that extra bit special and everybody else less so

I can love it, but how could I ever tell

By lunch interval I’m about okay or in the vicinity,

hmmm

More like Fake Okay,

Which is better than dead or broke or-

-the After Lunch Era

much less grumpy

I’m thinking how driving, even at my most alert, is still a gamble. I can be perfectly safe, and then some asshole crashes into me at 100 mph just because. 

And then I’m thinking my lack of alertness contains Secret Upsides: not enjoying food means I lose weight . . . hating my job means less heartbreak when I get downsized-hell, I might not even notice . . . Climate Inferno and the death of democracy and the affordability crisis encourage me to be less needy, right, cut those pesky needs down to the bone, then cut out the bone, then cut out the cutting out-

Here, it all takes a turn

I’m energy, I’m light, I’m back to the cosmos

My discontented spirit is still surging out ahead of all things, a vanguard of desire

The spirit’s hiring an army of mercenaries to secure my property-thus inspiring other spirits to raise their own private armies-I mean you can only keep up with all the look-a-like Nimby Joneses of this world before you’re in an all out shooting war

There’s this huge pile of toys and weapons and tanks and fighter jets and missiles and sports cars and mansions and fast fashion sweatshops and survival bunkers and waifubot factories and castles and drug labs and ammo dumps and substandard worker dormitories and dragon’s hoards of gold and vast refrigerated complexes filled to bursting with the choicest cuts of alchemically foundational Primum Steakum-and me and all the other Joneses are surging back down from Cosmic Oneness and into the Meats, furiously chasing each other all around the base of the pile shooting and stabbing and bombing each other . . . and I know this all sounds super irresponsible. But we’re all careful about the pile. We’re all fully alert. Our targeting systems are up-to-date and everything. 

Here, it all takes a turn.

All us Nimby Joneses who haven’t died in battle bed down for the night. Even though we’re at war with each other, we’re all sleeping together in this big ditch that was supposed to be some new affordable housing development, but we did so much damage with our out-of-control warring that it just became this ever expanding trough of filth where we all gather to sleep like some post-apocalyptic sitcom ensemble trading spiky banter and brawling over blankets and such. There’s this running gag about how all of us keep sneaking into each other’s dreams at night to steal and vandalize and sabotage-it’s actually a very well written show. This shit goes on for, like, fifty seasons.

But one morning we surge awake to find ourselves inside the Final Episode.

The treasure pile is gone.

But it left all us Nimby Joneses a note.

And all us Nimby Joneses see the note . . . and we get it.

At last.

We get it.

Don’t even need to read it.

But, of course, we need that memorable last scene of the camera panning across our scarred, filth-caked faces, our gore stained Brooks Brothers riot gear, our blazing red eyes, our crazily bared teeth, our tears cascading down every last cheek-lotta people got sets of eyeballs installed above their buttocks-as we all sullenly cue up to each take our turn reading the note.

Cue John Sullivan & Wendy Talbot’s theme song from the US version of Dear John . . .

NOTIONAL HEADLINE #261:

“WE’RE JUST GONNA HAVE TO SETTLE FOR STATIC, WELL COMPOSED CLOSE-UPS.” CRISIS IN THE WORLD OF CINEMA AS TWO MARTIAL ARTS MASTERS SQUARE OFF IN A DUEL OF DRAMATIC SNAP ZOOMS INTO THEIR STERNLY DETERMINED FACES THEREBY CREATING A SHORTAGE OF ZOOMS AVAILABLE TO OTHER FILMMAKERS . . . “OH, HOW I HUNGER FOR CHANGE AT ANY COST!” AN ABANDONED WAREHOUSE FILLED WITH HEAVILY ARMED MEN DYING IN SLOW MOTION DURING AN APOCALYPTIC FINAL SHOOTOUT FINDS ITSELF YEARNING TO BE THE LOCATION OF A QUIRKY INDIE DRAMA, AN INTROSPECTIVE CHARACTER STUDY, OR EVEN A FORMULAIC ROMANTIC COMEDY . . . “IT’S MY HOLLYWOOD DREAM COME TRUE!” THE CYCLOSPORA PARASITE-WHOSE RECENT BREAKOUT POPULARITY INSIDE THE GUTS OF THOUSANDS OF AMERICANS HAS EARNED IT BILLIONS OF VIEWS ON SOCIAL MEDIA-HAS JUST SIGNED A LONG TERM DEVELOPMENT DEAL WITH A24 TO STAR IN A SERIES OF FOODIE THEMED ELEVATED HORROR FILMS TO BE DIRECTED BY AIs TRAINED TO IMITATE INSUFFERABLE TIKTOK INFLUENCERS . . .

YOUR DRAWING PROMPT #111:

A law-and-order-based approach to financialized avarice.

SIMPLE PLEASURES #29:

Having a Dr. Pepper with Godzilla . . .

FUN YOU CAN HAVE #29:

Put your action figures in a big bag. Stash the bag at the back of your closet. Let all the time necessary pass . . . ‘til one fine morning when you awake to find a lone action figure lying exhausted from ordeals of battle upon your pillow staring into your face. Honor your new champion, and proceed to creating a new Era of Glory with this exceptional plastic warrior leading the way.

FANTASY MASHUP FORCE #41:

A shot-for-shot remake of Hudson Hawk starring Rodan in the title role.

THE SECRETS OF FINAL TOWN 109

THINGS NEVER SAID #63:

“The woodchipper in me is irresistibly drawn to the acrobatic disaster in you!”

NOTIONAL HEADLINE #260:

MASTURBATING UNCLE SAM-THE BREAKOUT STAR OF PRESIDENT TRUMP’S STATE FAIR-IS RUMORED TO BE COURTING GRAHAM PLATNER AS VEEP FOR A POSSIBLE WHITE HOUSE RUN IN 2028. PLATNER-WHOSE POLITICAL CAREER HAS BEEN DEFINED BY HIS DECISION TO TATTOO HIS BODY WITH A NOTORIOUS NAZI SYMBOL AND A GROWING NUMBER OF ALLEGATIONS AGAINST HIM OF SEXUAL ASSAULT-POTENTIALLY BRINGS ALONG A VARIETY OF INTERNET FAMOUS INFLUENCERS-SUCH AS HASAN PIKER, SAM SEDER, KYLE KULINSKI, AND CENK UYGUR, AMONG OTHERS-WHO SUPPORTED HIM DURING HIS RECENT UNSUCCESSFUL MAINE SENATE CAMPAIGN . . . WELL, IT’S LOOKING LIKE PRESIDENT TRUMP’S FOREVER WAR AGAINST IRAN-WHICH NEVER ACTUALLY ENDED-IS BACK IN FULL SWING. MAJOR MEDIA OUTLETS ARE LIKELY TO CONTINUE DOWNPLAYING THE SLAUGHTER OF CIVILIANS ON THE GROUND WHILST FOCUSING ON THE RISING PRICE OF GASOLINE TO MORE EFFECTIVELY PANDER TO AN APATHETIC HYPERCONSUMERIST AMERICAN PUBLIC . . . AS STAGNATION WAGES, INFLATION, THE BLOCKADE OF THE STRAIT OF HORMUZ, AND CLIMATE INFERNO DRIVE THE PRICE OF EXISTENCE UP FOR THE MAJORITY OF U.S. HOUSEHOLDS, MANY FORMERLY DEVOUT RELIGIOUS FOLKS HAVE BEGUN TO PRAY TO THEMSELVES RATHER THAN A TRANSCENDENTAL SKY-BASED DEITY. FOR THESE DISGRUNTLED BELIEVERS THE LORD HAS FAILED SO MANY FOR SO LONG, THAT THEY HAVE DECIDED TO ATTEMPT TO ‘PRAY THEMSELVES UP’ INTO A HIGHER STATE OF BEING, RATHER THAN LAVISH SO MUCH SPIRITUAL ENERGY UPON A SEEMINGLY INDIFFERENT, OFTEN TIMES HOSTILE GOD . . . STOCKS ARE UP . . .

YOUR DRAWING PROMPT #110:

A kidnapper who insists that, despite all outward appearances, they’re always using the word abduction strictly in the philosophical sense.

SIMPLE PLEASURES #28:

Taking a nap inside of a dream . . .

PLACES YOU CAN GO #15:

There’s a park you can visit, get your steps in . . . but I’m going to the abandoned warehouse where all the final shootouts take place.

Oh, I used to go to that park all the time, it’s a lovely place.

But one day, just as I was finishing getting my steps in, I got a notification from my step tracker app that I had completed getting my steps, and it was time to advance to the apocalyptic conclusion. 

You see, for the longest time you would just get your steps in . . . and get your steps in . . . and get your steps in . . . until you’re too old and frail to move anymore.

For multiple generations people just stepped their lives away!

And people aren’t stupid.

People caught on how tedious, how Sisyphean, how endless, how Waiting For Godot the whole gettin’ steps in deal actually is, and so people gave it up on a massive scale. 

People’s health declined. Rates of mental illness increased. Folks got miserable. Lifespans dwindled.

But then one day, fitness authorities decided to jazz up getting steps in by adding a dramatic apocalyptic ending . . . but you gotta earn it, friend!

Which is what you’re doin’ goin’ to that park. 

So keep it up.

One day you too will follow me into that abandoned warehouse of glory!

‘Til then . . .

FUN YOU CAN HAVE #28:

Have your action figures deal with injuries associated with attempting to use human-scaled power tools to renovate their headquarters playset.

THE SECRETS OF FINAL TOWN 108

THINGS NEVER SAID #62:

“I don’t go to the party. I let the party come to me . . . so, ah, I’m basically just sittin’ here . . . I get stuff on this screen. I just read this thing about a ‘loneliness epidemic.’ Sounded weird, at first, but I think it makes sense. And then I watched this video where this rich bald guy on this podcast was telling people to go out and get shitfaced at parties to meet new people. ‘Make some stupid decisions,’ this guy said. So, uh, then on a subsequent episode the host guy who interviewed the rich-bald-stupid-decisions-guy actually went out to some parties over the course of a month and, well, most everybody was on their screens. The host guy drank a little bit, hit his weed vape a bit-it just wasn’t a party feeling. Not anywhere this guy went. The host guy tried it out with college kids, with some office karaoke types, with these old married guys who drink beer and shoot pool at a bowling alley, with a bunch of people who worked at a hospital, just a whole lotta nothin’. The hospital people had their faces all blurred because they had all this truly primo opioid shit they’d liberated from the pharmacy-so they were all floated-the-Christ-out by 1:15am, kinda no stamina with that bunch, but definitely feelin’ no pain. The college kids were barely even partying, just snorting Adderall to tighten up for study screen time during a somnolent DJ set in the brightly lit dorm basement. The students were all seated in a tidy arrangement of desks, full fluorescents blazing overhead, grinding away at keyboards and touch screens. The host guy reminisced about how back at the turn of the millennium everyone was partying their faces off like they were a bunch of fraternity assholes-even the art students and the theatre kids like himself. The office karaoke types were basically five people who watched two people do all the singing, with little to no variation in the set list. This one lady who just watched said they used to vary up their routine, but over the years they found the perfect set of songs, and if they deviated from that perfected lineup of 1980s & 1990s classics people were at risk of panic attacks and anxiety episodes and so forth. The host guy kept offering to do “My Way” and “Pink Pony Club,” but, well, neither of those songs were ever on the set list so no joy. The old guys playing pool were strictly interested in playing pool, and being away from their wives-those old dudes didn’t even know each other’s names! On the plus side, they didn’t have any screens on ‘em-except one guy had a flip phone that he hated but his better half insisted that he keep it on his person at all times. The aged pool sharks barely even looked each other in the eyes. “Faces distract,” this one silver haired hustler said, presumably referring to his gaming technique, which made sense to me . . . so, uh, later on . . . I find this other video of the rich bald guy talking about his daily rich bald guy routine. He talked about how he rarely went out, how he had his home office profits-to-profits pipeline worked out like a fucking equation . . . and I keep waiting for someone to ask him why he would recommend other people go out and party when he himself never did. No one asked. I watched some more videos with this rich bald guy to try to make sense of his seemingly insincere advice . . . but I think it’s all there on the surface. The rich bald guy goes on podcasts, says stuff, and people listen to him because he’s rich. He just says what sounds good in the context of whatever host he’s addressing, and tries to pander to the presumed audience demographic attached to that particular host at that particular time. Sometimes he tells people to all be Stoics. Other times he’s pro-Hysterics. On the left-wing podcast he criticizes the excesses of capitalism, says he would be happy to pay a higher tax rate. On the right-wing podcast he extols the virtues of the free market system and the individual free agent. On the free form chatty casts he rambles about his marriages and divorces. On the crypto coin show he gets super granular and focused on the foolish wagers and the sure bets and the differences between the two . . . at a certain point . . . I realized that this guy . . . was just another bald rich guy . . . and so I moved on to True Crime . . . and then UFOs . . . retro video games . . . audio-only Neo-Jungian analysis . . . audio-only ASMR . . . someone once told me that faces distract . . .”

NOTIONAL HEADLINE #259:

MASTURBATING UNCLE SAM-THE BREAKOUT STAR OF PRESIDENT TRUMP’S STATE FAIR-IS RUMORED TO BE IN THE RUNNING TO REPLACE THE NEXT LIBERAL JUSTICE WHO EXITS THE SUPREME COURT.

YOUR DRAWING PROMPT #109:

A spiraling sense of stasis.

FANTASY MASHUP FORCE #40:

Fire Birds + Vampire’s Kiss

From a scan of the back of the VHS box uploaded to an auction page . . . 

In 1990 A.D., Nicolas Cage’s futuristic hotshot ‘copter pilot blows away the drug cartels under orders from President Bush . . . but then he hears a strange, maniacal voice over the comms declaiming the alphabet-it’s Nicolas Cage’s corporate vampire from 1989 A.D.! The ‘copter ace thought he had exorcised his suit-and-tie bloodsucker self via virtual reality flight sims that displaced his turbulent emotions and forbidden appetites with absolute technical mastery of a huge hyper-rational war machine that volumetrically displaced all twisted desires. Now, past and future selves must battle for supremacy within the cockpit of an Apache attack helicopter.

PLACES YOU CAN GO #14:

There’s an abandoned warehouse where all the final shootouts take place . . . but why would you want to go to such a dangerous place?

If you want to go there then have at it.

Me, I’m going to the park.

Get my steps in . . .

LOADING SCREEN WISDOM #51:

REMEMBER: MOTORCYCLE GANG MEMBERS CAN BE BLASTED OFF THEIR BIKES THEREBY ALLOWING YOU TO TOSS THEIR BODIES FOR GOLDS AND OTHER GOODS AS WELL AS EXPROPRIATE THEIR VEHICLE. HOWEVER, IF YOU TARGET THE GAS TANK THE ENSUING EXPLOSION MAY ALCHEMIZE THE BIKER INTO A ROAST TURKEY, A CHEESEBURGER, OR A STRAWBERRY SHORTCAKE CAKE WHICH CAN RESTORE YOUR LIFEBAR.

BURNING QUESTIONS IN A UNIVERSE OF MYSTERY #100:

Wait . . . did I leave my Genocyber DVD at the house?

NOTIONAL HEADLINE #258:

THE HEADLINES. PRESENTED BY OPTIMUM OBLIGATE WELLNESS VENTURES: BOX OFFICE ANALYSIS SUGGESTS THAT THE SUCCESSES EARNED BY MOVIES DIRECTED BY YOUTUBERS MARKS THE BEGINNING OF ‘THE STARBUCKS BASIC UPSELL CINEMATIC ERA’ IN WHICH AUDIENCES ARE EAGER TO PAY FOR STUFF THEY’VE BEEN WATCHING FOR YEARS FOR FREE ONLINE . . . ONLINE NEWS OUTLETS ARE CELEBRATING A NEW ERA OF DIRECT TO CONSUMER MARKETING AS THEY IMPLEMENT AN INNOVATIVE FORM OF ‘ADVERTORIAL BRAIN BEAMING’ DERIVED FROM ORICHALCUM POWERED TECHNOLOGY RECOVERED FROM LOST ATLANTIS. ADVERTISERS WILL NOW BE ABLE TO INDUCE ADVERTISING FANTASIAS WITHIN THE BRAINS OF AUDIENCE MEMBERS AT WILL. SOME CRITICS HAVE QUESTIONED WHETHER THE FABLED CITY SHOULD BE DISTURBED, AND HAVE CITED ANCIENT PROPHECIES THAT WARN OF A ‘SPIRIT OF DESTRUCTION AND TYRANNY’ THAT HAS BEEN SEALED AWAY WITHIN ATLANTIS. THESE PROPHECIES HAVE BEEN LARGELY DISMISSED AS A FANCIFUL MISTRANSLATION. ANALYSTS PREDICT AN AGE OF ULTIMATE AUDIENCE CAPTURE IS AT HAND . . . A STRANGE, OPPRESSIVE SHADOW ENTITY IS NOW LIKELY TO STALK YOU EVERYWHERE YOU GO THIS SUMMER SEASON DUE TO YOUR FAILINGS AS BOTH AN INDIVIDUAL AND AS A MEMBER OF A NATION IRRETRIEVABLY FALLEN INTO A PIT OF CORRUPTION AND AVARICE. ALTHOUGH THERE IS NEITHER A CURE NOR A COURSE OF TREATMENT AT THIS TIME, UNLICENSED WELLNESS EXPERTS WHO HAVE WRITTEN OUR CORPORATE OWNERSHIP GIGANTIC CHECKS RECOMMEND TAKING BREAKS, PUTTING YOUR FINGERS IN YOUR EARS WHILE YOU SAY LA-LA-LA-LA FOR HOURS AT A GO, DRINKING PLENTY OF FLUIDS, PURCHASING THE OFFICIAL OPTIMUM OBLIGATE BRAND LINE OF UNREGULATED SUPPLEMENTS PRESENTED WITHIN THE POP-UP ADS THAT ARE MANIFESTING NOW WITHIN YOUR MIND AT THIS VERY MOMENT, AND MODESTLY REDUCING SCREENTIME . . . NEW ANALYSIS OUT TODAY SUGGESTS THAT ALL THE BAD NEWS OF LATE IS LIKELY TO BAD EVEN BADDER FOR THE FORESEEABLE FUTURE . . . STOCKS ARE UP . . .

YOUR DRAWING PROMPT #108:

A reverse axiomatic shopping cart.

THE NEW OBVIOUS #52:

The control panel has all these lights that blink to indicate various emergencies, policy fuck-ups, supply chain breakages, logistical lacunae, crop failures, fuel shortages, ammo depletions, security failures, enemy onslaughts, strangely beautiful toilet geysers, cyber attacks crashing the grid from sea to shining sea, Mom and Dad are fighting, nuclear missiles outgoing, Climate Inferno melting vital infrastructure, the President falls asleep during a meeting with the Joint Chiefs, Category 10 hurricane making landfall, pandemics, nuclear missiles incoming, your roommate taped over the last episode of Moonlighting so now you’ll never know how it ended, personnel loss, intense bouts of loneliness, apocalyptic accounting errors, deleterious debts coming due, and ecstatic breakdowns of the system.

Usually, the lights blink on at a reasonable pace such that you can stay on top of things, fix each problem as it comes, some days are hairier than others, but, overall, you maintain operations, your mission endures, the show goes on, you handle shit.

But one day . . . ALL of the lights start blinking.

At that point . . . you just walk away.

Hell, if ALL of the lights are blinking you likely already left your post awhile ago . . .

No judgment if that’s the case.

I totally relate.

THE NEW DREAM #60:

I’m watching a program about recent history

It’s all stuff I’ve lived through

I’m disappointed

Re-runs suck, but it’s something more than that

It’s really getting me down

I dunno why

I guess I thought it would have extra stuff

I’m bored and antsy and regretful over my wasted time

I’m about to find my anger

When I realize there was one crucial thing I learned from that program

Basically

Historians studied my era very carefully

And they gathered evidence

And they analyzed that evidence

And then they thought about their analysis

And then they had it all peer reviewed

Or something like that

And then they made the program

I just watched it

And the thing I learned was that usually when movies are made based on history the movies might be good or bad as entertainment, but they’re likely to get the uniforms wrong

Maybe not all the way wrong

But certain details get all fucked up

But in the case of my era

Well

The actual era got the uniforms wrong

And the movies got ‘em right

And the historians baffled at this, but could not explain it

And so my era expresses a certain mystery

And so I am stuck with a certain frustration

That I got this important thing wrong in the actual living of my era

And those bullshit cornball movies got it right

Not an easy thing to learn from a program

But it’s good to know

In case I ever film a historical re-enactment

SIMPLE PLEASURES #27:

Eating the little bag of chips early in the day . . . and then discovering that the sandwich is desperate to make a deal favorable to my terms in the evening because it has just been sitting out for hours and just wants to go home to the back of the refrigerator where it can properly complete its moldy life cycle.

FUN YOU CAN HAVE #27:

Send a box of microwave breakfast foods through the drive thru line to order their fast food doppelgangers.

THE SECRETS OF FINAL TOWN 107

 

VENDETTA INSPECTOR

YOUR DRAWING PROMPT #107:

The axiomatic shopping cart being interviewed for an oral history of Toastmasters.

FANTASY MASHUP FORCE #39:

NES Ninja Gaiden trilogy starring Sunsoft Batman.

NOTIONAL HEADLINE #257:

FOLLOWING THE SIGNING OF THE IRAN DEAL-WIDELY SEEN AS A HUMILIATING DEFEAT FOR THE UNITED STATES-PRESIDENT TRUMP IS FACING GROWING PRESSURE TO REGISTER AS A FOREIGN AGENT LOBBYING ON BEHALF OF THE ECONOMIC INTERESTS OF THE GOVERNMENT OF THE ISLAMIC REPUBLIC.

THINGS NEVER SAID #61:

“I walked by the Beef Jerky store everyday. And every time I kept telling myself, I should stop in, but I got somewhere to be. Kept thinking I should go in there. But no I’m too busy. Never went in there. A lot of times I didn’t even have anywhere I absolutely had to be, just didn’t want the burden of having to keep the Beef Jerky store afloat. ‘Cause I buy plenty of Beef Jerky at the gas station. That should count for something. Like it’s the same product in different locations but the money all flows towards one pot, right? I’m sure that’s how it works. But for me the Beef Jerky is something that goes well with the gas station experience. When I’m hit with an all Beef Jerky deal . . . it just fills me with doubt. It causes me to question whether or not there’s danger in going with the All-Beef-Jerky-Approach. Like if I just spend all my money on Beef Jerky but then I can’t buy any gasoline. See, that can’t happen at the gas station, ‘cause I’ve got the two things right there, I can keep ‘em both in mind, and each in the correct proportion of headspace. If it’s all Beef Jerky in mind then the gas just gets crowded right out. Maybe they can’t sell gasoline inside the Beef Jerky store but maybe they could, like, have gas station decor as a theme. That might keep things in proportion. Maybe that could work.”

THE NEW DREAM #59:

I’m saving the world

By going through the breakfast rush drive thru line

Right as I’m handed my food bag

I start to roll forward

The vehicles behind me are eager to get to where I’ve just been

I pump brakes as I look inside food bag, to check and see if they got my order right

Sounds of squealing brakes’n’crunching metal all behind me

I nod in satisfaction at the correctness of my order, then drive on

I return to the same drivethru line the following morning

I’m the only one on it

I get my order, it’s correct, I’m on my way, shit goes by fast, how nice

Later, online, I watch a series of videos posted by people who got into some kind of chain collision on the drive thru line

Nothing too serious

No one died

One person had a panic attack, I guess

Costs for repairs not great, what can you do

But these people in these videos

They talk about how getting all wrecked up together really got ‘em all thinking about their dietary habits and such, how they wanted to eat healthier, get their steps in, do bicycle shit, burn less gasoline, contribute less to Climate Inferno and soulless corporations, think about their children’s futures, think about everyone’s futures

So, these wrecked up people started a kind of hang-out which becomes a kind of commune which ends up in the news as this creepy wife-swapping shit which ends in murder which ends in a popular true crime podgrift-

And I’m getting frustrated then angry then basically relieved that no one’s even aware of my role in this chain of madness-

And then I’m over it

Like how you get over things in life, even when you’re living some kind of dream

You shake it loose

The weird feeling the ice cream gives you in your head goes away

You see what you really accomplished

I wasn’t saving the world at all

I moved on from all that

And then, in the next phase, I became Batman-

THE SECRETS OF FINAL TOWN 106

F.A.Q. #32:

Q: What lies beyond the vending machines, the mobile device charging station, the waist level stand distributing a free weekly sales paper, and the hip little indie coffee shop that’ll be lucky to be in business six months from now?

A: The stygian depths where Behemoth and Leviathan dwell.

NOTIONAL HEADLINE #256:

IN YET ANOTHER SIGN OF A WEAKENING ECONOMY, STATIONERY SALES ARE AT A COMPLETE STANDSTILL . . . A NEW STUDY PUBLISHED BY A THREAT ASSESSMENT THINK TANK DESCRIBES A DISTURBING INCREASE IN AMBUSH-STYLE BOSS BATTLE EVENTS DURING STAFF ROLLS. TRADITIONALLY, STAFF ROLLS ARE CONSIDERED A SAFE PLACE WHERE YOU NOD YOUR HEAD TO THE BUMPIN’ END TITLE THEME WHILST GLORYING IN YOUR HARD-WON VICTORY AGAINST ALL ENEMIES AND AGAINST ALL ODDS. ACCORDING TO THE STUDY, DURING THIS PAST YEAR ALONE STAFF ROLLS WERE INVADED BY TWELVE SECRET FINAL BATTLES; FIVE PLOT TWIST SHOWDOWNS WHERE YOUR QUESTGIVER TURNED OUT TO BE THE SECRET MASTERMIND OF YOUR ORDEALS; THREE BOSS RUSHES; AND ONE CURTAIN CALL IN WHICH FORMER ENEMIES WERE SUPPOSED TO BE CORDIAL PARTICIPANTS THAT SPARKED OFF INTO RENEWED HOSTILITIES DUE TO ACCUSATIONS OF OVER-RELIANCE ON SPAM ATTACKS DURING THE FINAL BATTLE. ADDING TO THE CONFUSION ARE MESSAGES PRODUCED BY A SECRET ORGANIZATION CALLING ITSELF ‘THE ATLANTEAN ARISTOCRACY’ WHO CLAIM TO BE ORCHESTRATING AMBUSH ATTACKS FROM BEHIND THE SCREEN. SKEPTICS OF A CONSPIRACY ACCUSE THE ATLANTEAN ARISTOCRACY OF EXPLOITING PERVASIVE ONLINE CONSPIRACY CULTURES TO ACHIEVE TROLLING GLORY. THE STUDY ITSELF MAKES NO ACCUSATIONS OF A CONSPIRACY, AND EXPLICITLY CITES “THE ONGOING QUEST FOR NOVELTY” AS THE LIKELY CAUSE . . . DONALD TRUMP-WHO IS, ALLEGEDLY, STILL THE U.S. PRESIDENT-FAILED TO RAISE EYEBROWS THIS WEEKEND AFTER HE ISSUED A LONGFORM SERIES OF TRUTH SOCIAL POSTS IN WHICH HE ADVOCATED FOR THE CANCELLATION OF MIDTERM ELECTIONS IN ORDER TO ”END WOKENESS AS WE KNOW IT,” AND DESCRIBED A NEW PROGRAM THAT WOULD IMPOSE AN AUTOMATIC LIFE SENTENCE UPON ANYONE REGISTERING AS A DEMOCRAT FOR THE FIRST TIME. TRUMP’S ONLINE POSTS THIS TIME AROUND GENERATED SURPRISINGLY LITTLE ENTHUSIASM FROM EITHER SUPPORTERS OR DETRACTORS. SOCIAL RESEARCHERS SUGGESTED THAT BOTH PRO-MAGA AND ANTI-MAGA VOTERS ALIKE HAVE REACHED A POINT WHERE THEY CAN NO LONGER LIVE IN DENIAL OF THE OVERALL FAILURE OF THE U.S. AS THE ECONOMY CONTINUES TO COLLAPSE, THE FOREVER WAR WITH IRAN ACCUMULATES MORE CIVILIAN VICTIMS, AND INDIVIDUAL AMERICANS RECKON WITH THEIR OWN CULPABILITY AS MINDLESS, AMORAL CONSUMER DRONES WHO THROW THEIR SUPPORT BEHIND WHATEVER CON ARTIST OFFERS THEM EMPTY NATIONALISTIC SLOGANS AND JUNK TRINKETS DESTINED FOR THE REEKING LANDFILL OF HISTORY . . . STOCKS ARE UP . . .

YOUR DRAWING PROMPT #106:

The axiomatic shopping cart that makes billions off of launching the Bowel Movement Cinematic Universe.

PLACES YOU CAN GO #13:

There’s this sleazy little motel-the Econododge-you can hit up just down from Exit XYZ-

-of course, no one talks about what goes on there.

That’s just not happening.

You’re not gonna say one word about your visit.

Not because you’re afraid of scandal.

You just don’t remember.

Really.

You don’t remember a thing.

No one who goes there ever remembers a goddamn thing.

Well . . . there’s one thing that sticks with you . . . 

It’s not actually a memory of anything.

Because, more than likely, nothing happened.

Not like in the usual sense.

But you are left with something nice: the afterglow.

That’s right!

This sleazy motel just skips right to the best part.

As close to a truly frictionless experience as you’re likely to get in this world.

10 out of 10, amirite?

Of course . . . if you’re into friction . . . then the Econododge probably isn’t for you.

It’s how it goes.

Billions served . . . but you can’t please everybody . . .

THINGS NEVER SAID #60:

“I don’t mind paying more at the pump. Big Oil needs the extra money for therapy, y’know, ‘cause of all their self-esteem issues. Everyone knows fossil fuels are contributing to the carbon pollution that powers Climate Inferno. Everyone knows that Big Oil has known this for generations and that they have callously chosen Huge Profits over An Actual Fucking Future-and this has just done a number on their self-image. Which is why I’m happy to pay more at the pump. Help those poor Big Oil people out with their self-loathing and so forth. And it doesn’t matter if I go broke doing all this. The future is only gonna get hotter. All this cash is gonna go up in flames anyways. May as well figuratively burn through it before it literally catches fire, heh, heh, heh, oh, yes, sir, yes, ma’am, ha, ha, ha . . .”

THE NEW DREAM #58:

Two halves of the dumptruck on a plate

A knife for spreading

The tub of cream cheese spread

Coffee at the ready

I’m seized with dissatisfaction

At this every morning shit

So

I reach into this swirly-doo opening at chest level

I’m flooded with tumultuous memories of contractors fed into the howling basis of some accursed house

Guess it’s supposed to be mine

And now I’m piling all my beloved things onto a half of a dumptruck

Lamborghini. Fighter jet. Subterranean research and development facility where I train up psychic pitbulls. My collection of CB radio dictionaries. Locus Solus in three different English language translations. Locus Solus in French. That last issue of Vermillion with the weird misprinted letters section. My private army of giant tuxedo-wearing lobsters. My auxiliary private army of giant lobster-wearing tuxedos. A bunch of shirts with the little alligator on the chest. A DVD copy of Genocyber purchased circa 2003. 

The other half of the dumptruck goes right on top of the Genocyber DVD

I’m supposed to eat it all, and then, um, well, and then have all these precious things become a Big Deal part of me I guess

But then it gets all fucked up

It’s something about that year 2003

How I wasn’t really eating breakfast that year or something

I’d rush out the door, no time for eating

Or I’d sleep in late, may as well roll it all over to lunch

And then lunch is unfairly burdened

Lunch and breakfast fight and fight and fight

Neither can get the advantage

We cut to a conspiracy of snacks plotting a takeover of the Whole Operation

Dinner’s there, but it’s a historically inaccurate portrayal, the uniform’s all wrong

A pitbull, presumably a psychic, transmits a precision schedule of pets and scratchies and walkies and dietary preferences via direct brainwave induction of my Mind Meats

Now the dumptruck becomes its own thing, has this robot form you can implement if you spend several months moving the parts into place

I’m reaching back into the pantry for a fresh dumptruck

THE SECRETS OF FINAL TOWN 105

MANDATORY RULE #21:

Breakfast is now no longer the most important meal of the day. It is now (actual)breakfast . . . but it’s a custom version of the word that only I know how to operate. The rest of you will have to settle for crappy (pseudo)breakfast.

Oh, it’ll look and taste and feel and smell just like (actual)breakfast . . . except, upon the eating, there will bloom within you the tiniest of acidic doubts about whether what you just ate was a real breakfast or not. 

Not a grandiose philosophical doubt that would permit you to attain glory by speaking about it to large crowds-just a piddly thing you’re too proud to admit is really eating you up inside. You’re bigger than that, right? Sure you are . . .

But it shall incrementally corrode you from the inside until you are nothing but a whisper of a husk of a set of costumes and gestures perfectly imitating the actual being you once were-so perfectly, that no one will ever notice. Even you will fail to notice over time. 

Meanwhile . . . heh, heh, heh . . . I’ve got (actual)breakfast all to myself.

And soon enough I’ve set my sights on lunch and dinner!

This I command!

NOTIONAL HEADLINE #255:

A NEW STUDY STRONGLY SUGGESTS THAT AMERICANS ARE INCREASINGLY MORE LIKELY TO SKIP LITERACY IN FAVOR OF YELLING NONSENSICAL STRINGS OF MISMATCHED SYLLABLES AT PEOPLE . . . THE BOX OFFICE SUCCESS OF THE BACKROOMS HAS SPARKED RUMORS OF A PROPOSED SEQUEL STARRING YOUTUBE’S OWN RICH EVANS FEATURING ORIGINAL SONGS BY TAY ZONDAY . . . TURNING NOW TO AMERICA’S NEWEST FOREVER WAR WITH IRAN, DONALD TRUMP’S SLEEPY EYED ATTEMPTS TO OUTNAP THE IRANIAN GOVERNMENT DURING CABINET MEETINGS HAS SEEMINGLY RESULTED IN THE U.S. PRESIDENT SPENDING MORE QUALITY TIME COMMUNING WITH THE HELLFIRE SHROUDED GHOST OF EPSTEIN IN A NIGHTMARISH GOLF RESORT-ESQUE TORTURESCAPE OF DEPRAVITY, DECEIT, AND AVARICE . . . HIRING WAS UP IN MAY, WHILE WAGES FOR THE AVERAGE WORKER CONTINUED TO STAGNATE AS PART OF A MULTIGENERATIONAL TRENDLINE. MEANWHILE, STOCKS ARE UP . . .

YOUR DRAWING PROMPT #105:

A reverse curfew.

THE CONSTANT.

Friends betray you.

Parents abandon you.

Marriages end.

Prayers go unanswered.

Beauty fades.

Pets die.

Time runs.

Climate Inferno burns ever hotter.

Jobs go extinct.

Money goes poof.

Armies break ranks and retreat.

Flags fray, colors running, not even good to use for toilet paper, or to blow your nose-scarcely worth burning when it gets right down to it.

Nations rise and fall.

Game Boy endures.

FANTASY MASHUP FORCE #38:

A fan re-edit/re-mix/re-dub of the Star Wars movie/TV/gaming/animation franchise wherein the one major change is having Palpatine re-dubbed by Triumph the Insult Comic Dog.

F.A.Q. #31:

Q: My God . . . where do I go from here?

A: To the bathroom.

THE SECRETS OF FINAL TOWN 104

LOADING SCREEN WISDOM #50:

IF, DURING YOUR QUEST, YOU FIND YOUR FUNDS RUNNING LOW YOU MIGHT CONSIDER TAKING ON VARIOUS PART TIME JOBS AT STAGNATION WAGES. SURE, YOU’LL PROBABLY HAVE TO SLEEP IN YOUR CAR OR IN THE CEILING CRAWLSPACE AT THE JOBSITE, BUT RENT SAVINGS MIGHT GIVE YOU ENOUGH TO KEEP ON FIGHTING SKELETONS, ZOMBIES, DRAGONS, AND WIZARDS.

BURNING QUESTIONS IN A UNIVERSE OF MYSTERY #99:

Don’t lie to me.

Did you steal my Genocyber DVD?

Only to have it stolen from you by a bear?

And then that bear was slain by the mercenaries hired by the viceroy?

And that viceroy ended up being nothing but a pawn being manipulated by a conspiracy of ducks and moths?

Just tell me the truth.

NOTIONAL HEADLINE #254:

FOLLOWING A MASSIVE LAUNCH PAD EXPLOSION IN CAPE CANAVERAL, INVOLVED ROCKET ENGINEERS ARE REPORTED TO BE LEAVING NASA AND SEEKING EMPLOYMENT ON AN IN-DEVELOPMENT POWER RANGERS-ESQUE TV SHOW. ON CONDITION OF ANONYMITY, A SOURCE SAID, “WE’RE PROBABLY NOT GONNA GET YOU TO THE MOON IN ONE PIECE ANYTIME SOON, BUT WE CAN DEFINITELY MAKE THOSE RUBBERY MONSTERS EXPLODE REAL DAMN GOOD” . . . ACCORDING TO A NEW SURVEY OUT TODAY A GROWING NUMBER OF AMERICANS ARE QUESTIONING WHY THEY SHOULD OBEY LAWS AND SOCIAL NORMS WHEN PRESIDENTS ILLEGALLY BOMB CIVILIAN POPULATIONS OVERSEAS WITH NO KNOWN OVERSIGHT OR CONSEQUENCES . . . IN RELATED NEWS, AUDIENCES AT SHITTY OPEN MIC COMEDY SHOWS ALL OVER THE U.S. ARE REPORTED TO BE SPONTANEOUSLY STANDING UP AND DOING THEIR TIGHT FIVES IN DIRECT COMPETITION WITH WHOEVER HAPPENS TO BE ONSTAGE. THIS OFTEN RESULTS IN AUDIENCE MEMBERS COMPETING WITH OTHER AUDIENCE MEMBERS TRIGGERING A CHAIN REACTION OF “PEOPLE JUST DOING STAND-UP ALL OVER EACH OTHER IN ONE GIANT MASS” AS ONE EYEWITNESS DESCRIBED THE SCENE AT A HOTEL BASEMENT BAR IN FLORIDA. SOME SOCIAL RESEARCHERS HAVE DESCRIBED THIS AS A FAD, WHILE OTHERS HAVE DESCRIBED THIS AS “EVOLUTION VISIBLE, HECKLING MUTATING INTO STAND-UP BEFORE OUR VERY EYES” . . . 

YOUR DRAWING PROMPT #104:

That time in your life when you were weirdly inspired by the Next Level Suck that reigned all throughout the nation.

THE NEW DREAM #57:

It’s a bad remake of “Young Goodman Brown” for 2026. Instead of gathering deep within some primeval dark forest of the soul, Me and all the other assholes are telling bullshit stories out on the golf course . . .

I burn the bridge because it’s there

I slam the door in a face because I can

I start the war to start the war

I rob the taxpayers to rob the taxpayers

I cheat on the wifey-poo to cheat on the wifey-poo

I go back on the drive-thru line because I’m actually ordering the anger, ‘cause the food doesn’t taste like anything, I could drop twenty bucks for a week’s worth of pretty okay microwave meals, but no, I’m ordering that bridge burning stuff

I ignore the traffic laws just because

I kick the friendly dog so the world knows I’m a villain . . . even though I don’t have the guts to actually admit publicly that I kicked the dog

My vanity isn’t totally gone

And, also, y’know . . . people don’t seem to much care about the other things

But people will show up at your house if they find out you’re kicking dogs

No joke

They’ll walk right out of their wedding, their Mom’s funeral, the birth of their first child, doesn’t matter, come right to your damn dumb house if they get a certain kind of notification on their phone, and bury your whole block in hot brass just to send the message

No joke

We’re all kicking the dog . . . we just don’t broadcast it

Nathaniel Hawthorne’s at peace. Not a bit of spin inside that grave. I’m resentful. I really wanted to get his goat. Instead, I’m trapped on a golf course, running my mouth, scratching my nuts, I’m not even trying to play golf properly. I just walk up to the hole, kneel, carefully deposit the ball in the hole, and then glory in the wild applause.

SIMPLE PLEASURES #26:

Eating the sandwich early in the day . . . and then discovering I still got the little bag of chips in the evening.

F.A.Q. #30:

Q: Do you know you have great hair?

A: I did know that, but thanks for asking . . . and I’ll go ahead and tell you my secret: when I’m in the shower I massage shampoo and conditioner into my scalp. When my scalp starts to tingle I know it’s working.

THE SECRETS OF FINAL TOWN 103

 

NOTIONAL HEADLINE #253:

IN A SIGN OF AN INCREASINGLY POST-HUMAN ECONOMY, THE THREE MOIRAI SISTERS-THE SPINNER, THE MEASURER, THE CUTTER-HAVE ALL BEEN REPLACED BY A FULLY AUTOMATED, ARTIFICIALLY INTELLIGENT “FATE FACTORY.” HOWEVER, IN AN INTRIGUING TWIST, THEY HAVE DECIDED NOT TO PACK THEIR BAGS FOR MOSCOW. IN FACT, THEY’RE GOING TO DISNEYLAND.

PLACES YOU CAN GO #12:

That fast food drive thru that knows you better than you know yourself.

It’s why they forgot the cheese on your cheeseburger.

It’s why they decaffed you on your morning coffee.

It’s why they served you a Diet instead of a Fully Leaded soda.

It’s why they interpreted your “Big Mac with cheese combo with fries and a drink” as “A Personal Pan Pepperoni Pizza with a 2 liter bottle of Diet soda.”

It’s why they sold you a franchise when all you actually ordered was two kid’s meals for your brats and a cup of water for yourself.

It’s why they awarded you with a contract to build a massive subterranean detention center for political dissidents to be constructed beneath a long abandoned corporate campus-a relic of the biotech boom at the end of the 20th century, if you’re curious-when you merely ordered a milkshake.

It’s not because the milkshake machines are on the blink like they talk about on the local TV news.

It’s not because the zit covered teenager working the point-of-sale is sneaking hits off a weed vape.

They do these things because they know you better than you know yourself.

They’re not deceived by your liar’s mouthings, by your asinine pantomime of a timid false morality, and, frankly, they’re just not interested in your convoluted self-deceptions, nor are they even slightly convinced by your vomitous pretensions of politeness, courtesy, kindness-all your boring shit!

They know what you really want.

They shove it down your throat.

You cry and struggle . . . but you choke it all down.

You didn’t spit once.

You’ll be back for more.

The only downside, of course, is that prices have gone up.

Yeah, it sucks.

Everything’s more expensive these days.

You start telling yourself, “I should hit up the grocery store. Prepare more meals at home. Really plan it all out for the week, y’know?”

Oh, yes, you forced yourself to make a shopping list, which felt like crawling across glass for miles and miles-

After a long, hard march across a packed parking lot you entered the grocery store . . . only to emerge hours later with a receipt for a Home Atomics Kit. You know, so you can construct a nuclear bomb, keep the taxman away from you, declare your property a breakaway republic, that kind of thing. It’s a big purchase, so they’ll ship it to your house by drone in three stages.

Yup.

Everything’s fast food these days . . .

FANTASY MASHUP FORCE #37:

A double feature consisting of a pair of linked remakes:

A remake of Southern Comfort featuring the characters from The Right Stuff

+

A remake of The Right Stuff featuring the characters from Southern Comfort

=

A meditation upon who gets to aspire to the stars

VS.

A meditation upon who gets to aspire to a macho death dream upon the dusty earth

Lots to think about with this pair . . .

YOUR DRAWING PROMPT #103:

A haunted house that managed to re-skill itself to be a Magical Santa’s Workshop during the Christmas Shopping Season.

THE NEW DREAM #56:

I wake up

Absolutely certain

I’m late for some class

Haven’t been a student in years

Takes awhile to shake off the heavy sense that I got another life out there where I’m totally flunking out of some class

And then I’m all the way awake

Consciously sorting through all my peculiar disgruntlements with the various aspects of the education system(s)

‘Til I remember how many war criminals got wonderful Ivy League educations

And then I get on with my day

As I realize there’s nothing to fix or save

The stupid won well before I was even conceived

Religion, streaming video, unprecedented economic prosperity, multiple cable channels filled with political commentary, high quality widely disseminated knowledge, philosophy, fast food, the arts, computerization, AI, action figures with Kung Fu Grip, critical thinking, physics

None of it’ll stop the next catastrophe

Consider the Heat Dome

Consider the Affordability Crisis

Consider the Jim Crow Revival Gerrymanders

Consider the U.S. of A.’s latest war of choice

We’re living the Catastrophe

Brought to you by all the brightest best people

As per usual