Saturday, January 24, 2015

The Facebook Page of David Lynch

                              About                   Friends                     Photos                     More
David Lynch
(Note: This is a parody. This is not actually written by David Lynch or it would be weirder.  I hope.)

Hi!  I'm famed director David Lynch and this is my Facebook page.  I'm glad you decided to stop by and spend some time.  Contrary to what you might think, I'm just a regular guy like all the rest of you.  I mow my lawn on a Saturday, take the kids to the mall on a Sunday, and subvert all that's human and decent in the world the rest of the week. Come join me.

I do love me my cat videos, but it's so hard to find good ones anymore. Here's one that I'm sure will warm your heart and leave you with a smile.  It's a video of a little kitty being swallowed whole by a snake with a surprisingly huge unhingeable jaw. Enjoy, Facebook Friends!    


Nothing is more fun than looking at posts of the breakfast, lunch, and dinners of my Facebook Friends.  Anywho, here's the lunch I was privileged to enjoy this afternoon --- honey baked ham, swiss cheese, selected vermin, and ammonium nitrate, all cooked to perfection. I had two helpings and then puked my guts out.  Woo-hoo! 


BTW,  I've loved puke ever since my days living in Philadelphia, no comparison intended. Here's a quick pic below. Wanna see more? A Comprehensive Retrospective of David Lynch Vomit, 1974-2003 is just a click away on my website ... 


If there's one American entertainer I truly adore, it's the Polish Prince himself, Mr. Bobby Vinton!  I've been privileged to catch the ageless Mr. Vinton's act a number of time in beautiful Branson Missouri.  Here he is beltin' out the ever lovely "Blue Velvet," the song that has made him an American favorite with folks of all ages. Afterwards Frank Booth and I went backstage and the three of us engaged in a wide variety of sadomasochistic acts.

WOOT! I'm delighted to share with you the news that I have been tapped to direct my very first Rom Com entitled "When Larvae Met Sally." Not to tip off too much here, but get this:  it's New Year's Eve and Larvae realizes for the first time he loves Sally, but she's leaving on a plane to England to marry the Elephant Man. Can Larvae slither after her in time? I'm melting hearts here!


It's the girl next door --- if you happen to live next to Ingrid Bergman and get caught in a bare breast-inducing time warp!  And if you're wondering about the time Ms. Rossellini and I spent together working on Blue Velvet, fellas, let me ever so modestly state: "YUP!"  See that, everyone, I've actually got a normal male instinct.



To her, I'm just "the Hubs."  I call her the "bi-i-i-t-c-h."  Know why? Frankly I've been married so many times I don't remember my wife's actual name!  Here the bi-i-i-t-c-h" and I are posing with BFFs Russell Brand and some random guy. Following the taking of this picture I performed an emergency frontal lobotomy on Russell and afterwards he seemed much more normal, and way funnier.


 You may want to take this Buzzfeed quiz, especially if your life is so impoverished you have no earthly better thing to do which is likely since you're sitting in the house on a nice day like this huddled over my Facebook page. Which David Lynch character are you?

a) Frank Booth (even I hope not)
b) Some character or other from Dune, nobody's seen it anyway
c) Henry Spencer (but only his hair)
d) The Elephant Man
e) Actress Laura Elena Herring's prodigious left boob


Here I am with fave gal pals Betty Elms, Rita, Diane Selwyn, and Camilla Rhodes.  Now if you're wondering why there are only two women in the picture and four names in the post, you need to watch Mulholland Drive another half dozen times or so.  Maybe even more. If you still don't get it, don't worry. There's always Adam Sandler movies.


Did you know that just like Agent Cooper, I give myself a present every day of two cups of good, hot, back coffee?  I even have my own special blend, possessed of just a hint of a secret ingredient which provides it with a distinctive richness, aroma, and flavor. Delicious! You can order by clicking below.  Drink up, my Facebook Friends!


Wednesday, January 21, 2015

A Disgrace in the Sun (FF)

copyright Georgia Koch

It was a nice day to row on the lake, Montgomery Clift had convinced Shelley Winters, and although she was uneasy about it, she agreed to go.

As they took to the small boat and Clift began rowing, Clift had a dark secret. He had met Elizabeth Taylor and nothing would ever be the same. He hated himself for what he planned to do, but he had no choice.  

Elizabeth was waiting for him.

As they reached the center of the lake, Clift brandished the oar overhead. He saw the look of terror in Shelley's eyes. 

"Shel," said Clift, "I know these are your favorite oars, but Elizabeth Taylor wants to buy them.  Sorry, but we'll make a bundle!"


No, this isn't exactly the way it plays out in "A Place in the Sun," but it's much nicer I think. And it allows me to pay homage to this great movie as my Friday Fictioneers' response to the picture prompt above.

I always thought Montgomery Clift was a fascinating actor.  I would have liked to have been just like him except for the dying young part. Then again, it's kind of impossible for me to die young at this stage of the game.

I hope those oars fetch the price Clift and Winters are hoping for because from the picture above,  the two of them sure as hell could use a better boat!

Monday, January 19, 2015

The Prohibition of Birthdays

It was America's second major attempt at Prohibition. It was indeed a noble experiment, but one which ultimately was doomed to fail. 

It was the Prohibition of Birthdays Act. 

In the early part of  the 21st Century, the practice of observing  birthdays had fallen out of favor.  Facebookers were  sick to death  of wishing "Happy  Birthday" to people they didn’t even know, the price of streamers had risen alarmingly due to the poor construction paper crop of 2017, and everybody was continuing to grow older, despite the fact that most people didn't want to.  

Anti-Birthday leagues began forming.  Radical Anti-Birthday activist Carrie Nationstate brandished a hatchet and raided birthday parties, chopping her way through Barbies, Kens, Hot Wheels, and all manner of pointy party hats.  Baby Boomers were especially militant in calling for an end to birthdays;  in Cleveland a mob of 64 year olds attacked a contingent of party clowns, beating them so severely that the clowns never again needed to paint tears under either eye  to be seen to cry. 

With pressure mounting, Congress drafted The Prohibition of Birthdays Act or PBA,  proposed by Senators Dianne Feinstein, Chuck Grassley, and Orrin Hatch, whose combined ages equaled 241. Support grew swiftly and in the end only conservative commentator Charles Krauthammer remained opposed, primarily because he hated anything that might cause him to smile on Fox News.

On January 15, 2017, birthdays were outlawed throughout the United States and all its possessions including Guam, even though nobody in the United States knew then or knows now where Guam is. Under the law, it became illegal to celebrate a birthday, send a birthday card, or even utter the words "pin" and "donkey" in the same sentence.  

The beneficial effect of the end of  birthdays was swift and immediate. In Washington, Speaker of the House John Boehner put his ready-made tan to good use and left Congress for extended spring break in Ft. Lauderdale.  John McCain married his third, fourth, and fifth wives, and most Democrats of just about every age began hanging with Bill Clinton. 

In Hollywood,  actress Scarlett Johansson announced her engagement to veteran actor Abe Vigoda.  "It's quite strange," commented Ms. Johansson, "I never used to find  Abe all that attractive, but ever since birthdays were abolished, we haven't been out of bed yet!"

It was the Baby Boomers, however, who benefitted most from the PBA.  All around the nation fat, balding, and wrinkled Boomers gathered together and convinced themselves they were still hip and that they could still touch their toes.  The promise of no further birthdays gave rise to the slogan "Don't Trust Anyone Over 70," and the Age of Aquarius, itself no youngster, dawned once again but this time dawned limping and with a membership in AARP.

Sadly,  the new law soon  began to show its flaws. Nostalgia for noisemakers gripped the country, and many people found themselves driving too closely behind ambulances and firetrucks to simulate the experience.  Other people began composing lovely and mournful sonnets to gift bags. 

In Chicago notorious speak cheesies linked to organized crime sprang up to service those with an on-going and  passionate desire for birthdays:

“My Joel is going to have the best 8th birthday ever, isn’t he, Mr. Celebresse?”

“Of course!  All da pizza he and his friends can eat at our speak cheesy."

"Oh, Mr. Calebresse?  Will we have noisemakers and giftbags too?"

"Sorry, Mrs. Grossman.  Only Capone's got dem.  But we do got bathtub ice cream!"

Soon violence ripped its way into the speak cheesy business. Shootouts between gangs armed with supersoakers and well aimed water balloons left dozens drenched and hundreds more with shriveled finger tips.  A public outcry followed the St. Valentine's Day Massacre, in which two birthday magicians and one balloon animal twisting guy caught their deaths a cold following a water pistol ambush.

powerful repeal movement formed led by a coalition  of cake bakeries, the guy who holds the copyright to "Happy Birthday to You," and millions of 12 year old Jewish boys afraid they'd never get their Bar Mitzvah presents.  The Speak cheesies were closed one by one, and finally on  January 1, 2018, a decidedly sadder but wiser nation, except for Charles Krauthammer,  declared  the Prohibition of Birthdays Act repealed.

It was a noble experiment but in the end it was doomed to failure.  It failed because people --- despite the noblest of their aspirations --- want and need bland yellow cake with white icing adorned with the words "Happy Birthday, Hubert," especially if their name is Hubert. They want and need noisemakers and gift bags.  

And balloon twisting guys.

But not me.  Not this Boomer.   I don't need any of it at all!  

I'm not giving up.  Ms. Nationstate, hand me that hatchet!


Friday, January 16, 2015

Asian Misbehavin'

When it comes to discussions of favorite foods, mine always starts and stops with Asian.  Love the sauces, love the vegetables, love the rice, love the MSG and the accompanying runny nose, verily there's little I don't love.  Until now.

Perhaps you saw the recent article about a Brooklyn-based food supplier to Chinese restaurants named New Yung Wah that was cited for its alleged wanton disregard for sanitary codes after rodent carcasses, feces, and urine were found in its warehouse. Now that's just one supplier and I know most suppliers certainly Asian misbehavin', but still I can't help but wonder ....

"Hi Perry, nice to see you back here at the Lucky Dragon."

"Hullo, Victor, how are you?  Still ... still in business, I see."

"Of course, why wouldn't I be?  Want some General Tsos tonight?"

'Maybe.  But first I have sort of a question ... umm ... do you ..."

"Yes, Perry?"

"Do you ... you ... uh ... ever go up to Brooklyn?"


"Yeah. Y'know,  Brooklyn, New York.  Near Manhattan, kind of trendy. Used to be the home of the Brooklyn Dodgers. Jackie Robinson, No. 42, that Brooklyn."

"Of course I know Brooklyn.  I go there quite a lot."

"YOU DO?!  I mean: you do, how nice!  What do you do up there?"

"I have a lot of relatives there."  

"OH, THANK GOD!! Nothing like family, I always say. So you never buy any food up there, do you, Victor?"

"Oh, yes, I do sometimes.  Got a great long term supplier there."

"But there's great long term suppliers right here in Philadelphia!" 

"Why so upset about Brooklyn, Perry?"

"Oh, nothing, nothing.  I just prefer when people buy local is all; so much fresher and all."  

"Perry, you're turning as green as a Jade statue!"

"No,no, I'm just ...  Out of curiosity, what's the name of your supplier in Brooklyn?"

"Sure. My supplier in Brooklyn is New ... why do you have your hands over your ears, Perry?"

"Tinnitus, big problem!  Have to keep noise out sometimes."

"Oh. Well, as I was saying my supplier is New ... why do you have your hands over your ears, Perry?"

"Too much exposure to rock music 30 years ago, cleaning out that pesky waxy ear buildup, and ... uhh ... abject fear of hearing you say the words Yung and Wah in the rest of that sentence."

"You look as green as sauteed string beans, Perry!  Would you like to sit down? By the way, did you know Chinese New Year is coming up?" 

"I didn't. What year is it now?  I hope it's not the Year of the Rat.""

"No, Perry, it's not."


"It's the Year of the Horse."

"The Horse! I'm eating someone I might have bet on?!!!"

"Perry, now you're as green as the meat I get from my supplier in Brooklyn." 

"Sorry, sorry, Victor, think I feel like a different kind of food tonight." 

"What kind of food?"

"Maybe I'll try some Indian."

"Indian!  No!  No!"

"Why not, Victor?"

"Didn't you hear about the supplier of Indian food in Brooklyn whose warehouse was cited for rodent carcasses, feces, urine and ..."