Tuesday, March 20, 2018
More Quirks Than a Convent
-I thought the docs went overboard
with this little Altzy episode of yours.
Who doesn’t forget?
-Maybe a little more than that this time.
-What did brain scan show?
-Nothing.
-You have none?
-I wonder. At one murky stage
therein, I heard the words of
Horatio after Hamlet bought
the farm. “O what a great mind
is here o’erthrown!”
-Well, not a bad one in both cases.
-Rewrite Shakespeare, then, in
twenty-first century pussy American!
-Suitable for Hamlet as he prances
in black tights, endlessly soliloquizing
about making up his alleged mind.
I mean, like, choosing between
vanilla and chocolate paralyzed
that retarded dude!
-Nothing profound there?
-Shit no! More in my family.
My Aunt Rosa-Lil dances
drunk just to show her
fluorescent panties.
-And that’s profound?
-Hey! Entertaining! Man does
not live on grim shit alone.
-Would you have Ophelia
dance thusly?
-Hell yeah!
(sings) O-PHELIA I’d like
to feel yuh!
-Please don't sing! Strains your
wit beyond decency.
-Color me quirky.
-You represent the tribe!
-Where’s OUR Shakespeare?
-Talent’s the only lack.
Labels: Alzheimer, friends, Hamlet.Horatio, Shakespeare, talent
Thursday, July 20, 2017
Death and Worse
-Made a comic quartet in college.
-How so?
-Negotiating. Who'd marry whom?
-A settlement reached?
-Well, Cynthia was the pretty fly
in the ointment--why it took
so long.
-Stubborn?
-The opposite. Unrelentingly sweet!
-Uh huh? Met the type. Then one day
she takes the legs out from under
you with a snarky comment that
exposes you to a lifetime of ridicule!
-Not her. Zero defects. She'd turn
the devil himself into an absolute
sweetheart!
-At any rate, the story isn't about
Cynthia turning hard?
-Nor Grace attaining Cynthia's perfection.
-What did happen?
-Died.
-Which?
-Cynthia.
-But how...?
-There's a technical medical term, but...she sweeted herself to death, really.
Mark devastated. Hit the bottle.
-And Grace?
-Practically killed herself to become
as Cynthia!
-Did she?
-Got close. But as Fate would have it,
a monster entered! Still prevails.
-Namely?
-PMS.
-Not that!
-Happy didn't follow Mark on the Bottle
Trail, but...
-Coped?
-Barely. "It seizeth my waking hours,
and harroweth my nightmare sleep!”
-Very nearly Shakespearian.
-On a bad day, yeah.
Finally...he quoted Kurtz in
Heart of Darkness.
-The horror?
-Yep. Said nothing else after that.
-Some story! I'm shaking!
-Cynthia was well-insured--some
consolation.
-But no firm underwrites PMS.
-Would ruin them!
Labels: college chums, Heart of Darkness, PMS, Shakespeare, sweet disposition
Tuesday, December 08, 2015
Gothic
The Brides of Larch
From nowhere, Mr Halls, the motel owner told the crew
to “Beware of the Brides of Larch!”
Clifford informed him that they were just there from Lost Key,
Florida to help get the grid up in the smaller parishes after the
hurricane, only one of which was Larch. Replace pole transformers,
and perhaps trouble-shoot a bit for individual home owners.
Mr Halls went on–-and didn’t he? The brides, of course, were
widows now that they had dispatched their husbands with
whatever evil...!
Doc and Evers just laughed. Confirmed marrieds. If something
came their way as a sex adventure, Clifford was up to handling
it for the trio. But, he’d be exhausted as well by the upcoming day.
Mr Halls explained that the whole thing was a kind of irony.
What with their being widows now as he said, and the phrase
compounded from Shakespeare and Down-Home humor.
Clifford informed him that somebody had to get them up at 5AM.
That’d be the missus. And she was going to prepare much
more than the usual Continental Breakfast for the crew!
He thirsted to thoroughly explain what Swamp Eggs were.
Two days later, when the truck seemed abandoned outside
of Lichty Acres, the Sheriff started asking questions.
The New Orleans TV got their pictures from the Florida power
company, and hinted at “Sex Terrorism.” Riding the Brides of Larch
angle for all it was worth.
Not much. Sheriff checked phone records of the three, but cells
were dead in Larch, since a tower had been blown down.
Mr Halls told him about all the joking. And that Clifford was some
stud! “So...lured in! And then the others looking for him then...?”
Sheriff informed him that when they found the truth, probably
be quite dull. He departed in his wiry way.
But, not a trace.
Company sends Hip Harlow. Out of retirement and into the dusty truck to drive it back.
The toll taker wants a veritable mystery novel to explain all the
grim goings on, but Hip tells him he knows nothing, just a driver.
The papers have obviously picked up on the Sex Terrorism angle, and he resumes parsing red headlines when Hip pulls away.
Hip turns off the radio and enjoys the swamp. “Everything’s TV today,”
mutters he.
Six months later, Sheriff checks opening of the new Super Walmart.
He doesn’t need photos, could easily tell the trio against the usual
stunted varieties hereabouts. The “Brides” there. Beaming.
Labels: hurricane, Ides of March, Julius Caesar, lineman, local legend, murder, natives, omen, Shakespeare, Super Walmart, swamp, wives
Monday, August 24, 2015
Poor Bill Shakespeare
-Doing my version of Measure for Measure.
He...gets his actual pound of flesh in this one.
-Good God! Shylock does?
-And for Antonio, I got Antonio, a foreman down
at the docks. The only one not using a bullhorn there,
a real screaming ghinny! He complains about
everything in real life, anyway, so when the cutting
begins on him...?
-Horrible!
-Goes C over C in shrieking!
-And the Jew?
-Random casting. Anybody can play him.
-Because a vengeful homicidal maniac resides
in us all?
-Exactly! We’ll pick him from the audience, or
someone passing by.
-Can’t wait! The beautiful Portia?
-Just knocked her down to the one speech, since
we get to the bloody climax pretty soon.
-The quality of mercy is not strained...?
-IS! Changed it to conform with reality.
-Well, she doesn’t have much to do then?
-Swells a progress, like most women.
-Ah hah! Now we get Sexist, to add to anti-Semitic
and anti-Italian. Any racist?
-That comes in the Epilogue.
-After the flashing knife, or scalpel, or whatever?
-Laser.
-Another modern touch! It all sounds like such
a thoroughgoing mess, you’ll be labeled Genius!
-I’m expecting it. I’ve been genius-ing around
lately in preparation.
-How long is this Slaughter on Second Avenue?
-Fifteen, twenty minutes. Surveys tell us the audience
couldn’t take any more.
-So, you soften with the Epilogue?
-Two hip-hop guys who despise one another.
They summarize the play in a couple of
lines back and forth, and then really go at
each other! And, of course, at the racists out
front too!
-How do you know there’ll be racists?
-You gotta be kidding! Is the Pope a Catholic?
-There’s some debate.
-I thrive on all of it!
-This alleged play sounds like something gets
a Pulitzer! Making you an even greater asshole.
-I’m humbled.
Labels: Antonio, black, director, hip-hop, Italian, Measure For Measure, mercy, Portia, pound of flesh, Shakespeare, Shylock, theater
Friday, June 05, 2015
I am dying, Egypt, dying
When Little Egypt passed,
Hennesy of The World apprised
sidekick Curly Ames: “History!”
“Oh yeah? Hootchie-choocher
up there with Treaty of Ghent?”
In the style of American Acid
very nearly almost alive presently.
Spreadsheets don’t
contain malcontents.
Labels: Antony, Cleopatra, Egypt, Little Egypt, sarcasm, Shakespeare, spreadsheet
Thursday, July 24, 2014
Pending
-We'll all be summoned. Treason.
-Nonsense! We've cooperated with
this new regime in every way possible!
-And haven't laughed.
-Besides, we just did what everybody...
-Best, anyway, to get lawyers.
-They've all been shot.
-That's in Shakespeare.
-Thank you, Jerome! You can always be relied
on for the trivial allusion!
-For how much longer?
Labels: lawyer, new regime, Shakespeare, treason
Saturday, June 04, 2011
Multis
How many me’s in
parallel universes will
prove boring pains
in the ass? I tend
to concur with
the Shakespeare
I combine and
pluralize: Poor
forked things crawl-
ing between
heavens and earths.
Labels: multiuniverse, parallel universe, Shakespeare
