There is a new fear

 It comes late at night. It comes first thing in the morning. It comes with the moon. It comes with the sun. We don't control what scares us. We don't control what soothes us. Trust me on that. I'm on a whole bunch of meds. But there are still fears. Still the things that Come In The Night.

I wish I had an answer for fear. I think only Vin Diesel does. As a kid Zombies scared me the most. That's what I prepared against. But as I get older, everything scares me. I'm still in my 30s and I use a cane. I can fall over at anytime. 

And sounds. Still the hairs on the back of my neck will rise when I am scared. And I'm always scared. You'd be a fool to not be. 

What scares us is okay. Means we're human. But it does scare us. I've been terrified of Candyman for decades. 

I\ve already done so many 84-Glydes about fear. I have just one question: what the fuck do pumpkins have to do with it? Sam Haim is lame.  

The Delivery Man Always Rings Twice

 

“Howdy everybody, this is Joe for Pizza Hut and boy do we have a deal for you. In these trying times we know it’s not easy for you to leave the house to get food and we want to make things easier for you and your family. So, for a limited time, your can order two pizzas with two toppings and two sides for only $22.22.

For your safety and the safety of our delivery personnel, all food items will need to be paid for in advance by credit card and the food will be left outside your door. Be sure to get it before an enterprising neighbor shows up and gets a free meal!”

“Hello everybody! Are you in the mood for some egg rolls? Perhaps Moo Goo Gai Pan? Steak in brown sauce? (don’t ask me what’s in the sauce, I don’t know myself, but am smart enough not to inquire.) Then have your next meal delivered by Hunan Express! Our mostly-competent delivery people will have most of your food out to you in 20 minutes and be gone before you realize you’re missing half your order!

All of our delivery personal will be safely wearing masks and gloves and won’t hesitate to physically interact with our customers. Or, at least, we give them that equipment when they leave the store. If they’re still wearing that crap by the time they get to your place is anybody’s guess! If they aren’t and you’re feeling particularly salty, then don’t give them a tip! They probably had a few bites of your food in the first place anyway. Even steven! “

"Greetings America! Karen here. You know, things aren’t easy these days. We’re all supposed to stay at home. Shelter in place. Almost as if the country has been taken over by zombies! But it hasn’t! It’s been taken over by great deals and savings for you! Act now and order from Burger King delivery! Almost everything from our menu is available for delivery, from our Whoppers to our chicken nuggets that only occasionally have fried roaches in them (we’ve worked really hard on that front. The good news is that we’ve minimized the number of severed fingers in each bag) our salads, milk shakes and much more! You can even get those stupid paper crowns for the kiddies!

Our delivery personnel are expertly trained to stand 50 ft away from the entrance to your domicile and precisely throw the food at your front door or through your window of choice. Now that’ll work up an appetite!”

“Hey! Over here. Check it out. McDonald’s has been losing money during this whole pandemic, and since there’s nobody we can sue about it, we’ve gotta actually get up off of our cottage cheese asses to adapt to the situation. So, we’re presenting “Covert Covid Delivery.” You call the closest restaurant to you, (if our plans for world domination are on point, there should be one at the end of your block) and make your order on our automated system. That way you haven’t spoken directly to any of our employees concerning food and we have complete plausible deniability.

Next, an employee of the restaurant, let’s call him “Nerg”, will meet you at a public place for the handoff. It may be a public park, a gas station bathroom, or even your front door (not likely). You give the money; you get the food. Don’t expect any change, so be as accurate as you can.

I was never here.”

“Hey everybody. This is Mr. Brooks, for Subway, your favorite neighborhood American sandwich shop run entirely by immigrants. We’re going through some shit, aren’t we? People dyin’ left and right. I’m about to be the last man on earth and Rebekah still won’t go out with me!

Anyway, due to the lack of people leaving their houses, Subway has decided to meet customers halfway. The process is simple, call and make your order over the phone or online. Then, one of our employees will give you geographic coordinates. Follow the coordinates and with a shovel (not supplied) you’ll be able to dig up your still-fresh order. Put your money (in a plastic bag please) in the hole and cover it back up. It’s as easy as that!”

It’s a Brave New World.

Forgotten Heroes of Yore: Tor Johnson

 While the name Tor Johnson may not be well-known these days, once upon a time, it was impossible to live without being well aware of his exulted status. As a wrestler, actor and lover of the good life, he was the Mike Tyson of the early 20^th century. But much less of a woman-beater.

Born Torissa Jeanette Butterfly Johnson in Unpronounceable Town*, Sweden in either 1902 or 1903, (historians are not sure and to be honest, nobody cares in the slightest). A hefty 75 lbs. baby at birth, his parents knew he was in for great things, like fighting elephants and pulling trains with his teeth.

Unfortunately, being such a large child made things difficult for Tor. At school, the other kids would make fun of him for not fitting through doorways and for breaking every school desk at which he sat. It soon became unbearable for him and he started to lash out. After accidently crushing the heads of four fellow classmates, Tor had the dubious distinction of being the only ten-year-old sent to the general population of a major Swedish prison.

After five years of running the institution with an iron fist (up to 56 stabbings were attributed to either him personally, or his gang, the Meatballs, but it has never been confirmed), Tor became the unwilling participant in a nascent electro-shock therapy treatment. This resulted in him drooling and only being able to say “I like Jell-O!” for five months.

No longer deemed a threat to society, Tor was released back home, to work at Ikea. Unhappy with his work, he promptly went on a spree of robbing old, defenseless ladies. With the krona he stole, he hopped an old-timey steamship and made his way to America to become rich and famous.  

After waiting for the next American Class-C battleship (nothing else could support his mighty weight and still float), Tor made it to America, where he immediately wrestled to the ground the first person he saw, to prove his dominance. Unfortunately, due to an error, that person happened to be the Empire State Building and Tor immediately apologized for his naïve error as a brand-new immigrant.

But it turned out that his error was actually an audition of sorts. A wrestling promoter, Willy P. Grift, was at a nearby boiled shoe cart (the owner had run out of hot dogs a few days ago and was waiting for his weekly visit from the neighborhood dog catcher at 4 p.m.) enjoying a Florsheim with extra mustard, when he saw what Tor had just done.

Grift ran up to Tor and introduced himself and his job. He was able to convince Tor to join the wrestling circuit in the Midwest. Without a buffalo nickel to his name, Tor agreed, which is how he became the “Super Swedish Angel”! He gained instant fame as being the first wrestler to use a prop during a match: he beat his opponent with the referee. It was groundbreaking!

After a few years of this, Tor made his way out west to California, where he decided to try his hand at the porno industry, figuring it’d be his ticket to fame. Under the name “Swedish Chef” Tor accidentally crushed his scene partner with his mighty girth, in the first scene he ever shot.

Disillusioned and destitute, Tor took to living on the streets, tearing phone books and bicycles in half for spare change. This is where famed transvestite movie director Ed Wood discovered Tor and instantly saw the potential Tor had as an actor in his movies. So, he pulled Tor up by his bootstraps, (figurately not literally, at 400 lbs ain’t nobody lifting that dude!)

Soon Tor was enjoying the fabulous Hollywood lifestyle: Crystal in his Cheerios for breakfast, medium-rare baby panda in a bald eagle sauce for lunch and Scarface-levels of cocaine for dinner. He had a house up in the Hollywood Hills that could only be accessed by his own personal ski lift gondola. He had six cars, but due to his size, he could not fit in any of them and ended up just riding a hippo down Rodeo Drive when shopping.

Along with horror director Ed Wood, (nickname: Glenda) and other terrible directors from the 30s through the 60s, Tor went on to make such classics as: The Meanest Man in the World, Ghost Catchers, Swing out the Blues, Lost in a Harem, Alias the Champ, Dear Brat, Angels in the Outfield (?!), You’re Never Too Young (wink, wink), Night of the Ghouls, Where Are My Pants?  Head (you know what I’m talking about!), The Unearthly and of course, his most infamous movie and biggest cash cow (sadly) Plan 9 From Outer Space**, the movie about aliens using dead bodies to do…something? Invade? It’s never clear.

Tor had a long and storied movie career of mostly shuffling around with his mouth agape, doing whatever Bela Lugosi told him to do for a paycheck. Then, at the ripe old age of 68, Tor finally snapped his tethers and climbed the Tower Records building, screaming like a banshee from hell, until a plane shot him down. The crater his body left on Hollywood Boulevard was five feet deep. He was survived by his wife Beefy Jane, and his kids Lothar the Devastator and Kitten the Destroyer.

And now, a haiku:

Tor is a monster
He could snap you right in half
But his back is out

Selachimorpha Week

 

Well, it’s only been 8 million years, but I finally got a chance to watch Shark Week this past summer. I accidentally turned to it one day while skimming the channels for Hentai (you never know!) and ran into Sharknado 85: The Sharkining. Now those damn movies have the characters traveling through time.

I dunno guys, I was down with the silliness the first time, maybe even a little the second time, (if you know me, you know my love of bad movies) but these movies are a little too much in on the joke. Stupid for the sake of stupid can only go so far.

Anyway, I found the whole week both boring and strangely fascinating. I mean, it’s just hours upon hours of talking about sharks, and yet I was enthralled.

Why are there so many different types of sharks?

·         The famous Great White shark: just like Jaws*.

·         Hammerheads: proof that God is messed up.

·         Sand sharks: who like to build sand castles.

·         Jabber Jaw: he’s a real asshole.

·         Wobbegongs: the drunkest of all sharks.

·         Cow sharks: who have udders and some of the finest milks.

·         Thresher sharks: who kick around the sheets on the bed at night.

·         Angular Roughshark: this guy is a real square.

·         Sawshark: who is available for work at reasonable rates.

·         Street Sharks: They’re radical dudes.

And so on and so forth.

There are sharks who hide under the sand and wait for prey. Sharks who roll up to schools of fish and just headbutt them until they get dizzy. Sharks who play drums in a band. Sharks who fight crime. And other weird stuff.

I heard that if a shark comes at you, it’s because they’re sniffing you to see if you’re food**. And you don’t need to be scared, you just punch them in the snout and they run faster than a white person getting the scent of a pumpkin spice latte a block away. I’m not sure that I believe it, but luckily, I’ll never have to worry about it. I have no plans on going into deep bodies of water. See, I have Thalassophobia. That’s the fear of deep bodies of water, (and sea monsters, seriously).

Although sharks are scary and shit, there are worse things in the sea. I personally hate jellyfish. Those things are instant death! They wrap their tentacles around your body and as you writhe in a pain you have never before experienced or imagined, struggling to escape the poisonous hug of this feelingless, thoughtless tool of Satan, it pulls you deeper under the water. That’s when you realize your only escape is death, so you open your mouth and embrace of the taste of the cool, salty water and convulse and writhe as your lungs fight for air. But it is for naught and you close your eyes and breath your last, satisfied that this death is better than whatever the jellyfish had planned***.

Anyway, other than the stupid ass Sharknado movies and the shows that featured famous (or, semi-famous) comedians, I found Shark Week to be very redundant, (and repetitive****). I’ve never really understood peoples’ fascination with sharks. I guess we are drawn to the dangerous things that will kill us or bite our goddamn arms off. Because we’re idiots. That’s why we climb Everest, or jump out of planes, or go bungee jumping, or date Latinas.

I won’t watch Shark Week next year. I get the premise. Instead, I’m going to wait for Monarch Butterfly Week. Cause those are the silent killers.

 

*Did you know Jaws’ name is Bruce? Weird but a very true fact. Look it up.

**I wonder what a person would smell if they were able to sniff under water. I wonder what Aquaman smells.

***This is where the Hentai comes in. Unsavory!

****And does the same thing over and over.

PEACE, THE FINANCIALLY CRIPPLING WAY

 

Me: Hi. Umm, is this where I do the seminar to meditate and “activate my mental prowess” into having a larger wang?

Instructor: Wang? We do not say “wang” my child. It is called “the Most Holy Lord Marphus’ Gift unto his children.”

Me: Oh, that sounds much better. Very official.

Instructor: And yes. You are at the right place. Come in, my child, and learn the joys and peace of life that Lord Marphus and his teachings may bestow upon you.

Me: Cool, cool. Will there be refreshments?

Instructor: Our teachings will nurture your mind and be the sustenance your soul has always yearned for.

Me: Okay?

Instructor: There will also be fig newtons and fruit punch.

Me: Noice!

Instructor: Are you ready to receive the teachings of the Blessed Lord Marphus into your heart and soul?

Me: Sure. What do I do?

Instructor: The flyer for today’s event specified that you bring your life savings and your measurements for a robe that will fit you. Have you done as requested?

Me: You bet!

Instructor: Excellent! Come and sit and prepare yourself to learn from the living voice of our Lord Marphus: Grand Poobah Slappy!

Me: Slappy? Really?

Instructor: It is so. When we join this sacred group, we are all bestowed with a new mantle. For example, I’m Mary Poppins y’all.

Me: Makes sense. Alright, let’s go.

(five minutes later, I’m seated on the floor with about 20 other people)

Grand Poobah: Welcome all of the Lord Marphus’ children! I am Grand Poobah. Slappy and I bring you great tidings! Today you have come here to learn and to be part of something greater that yourself. For you here shall learn about the glorious, fluorescent way to the comforting (and heaving) bosom of our Great Lord Marphus!

First, I just need a show of hands if everybody brought all of their money with them? Don’t worry, if it’s in the form of a check, we have a machine to process them, same for credit cards. The Lord requires us to be thorough.

(all hands are raised)

Grand Poobah: Wonderful! And so, we may begin. Have you ever felt unloved? Nauseous? Gassy? Horny? Bewildered? Bothered? Itchy? Upset stomach? Diarrhea? We will feel those inflictions no longer, as the Lord Marphus accepts us into his loving and accepting arms. All physical pain, money worries, hair-loss, undersized wangs…

Me: I KNEW IT!!

Grand Poobah: …No interruptions please. As I was saying, with his love, you will find peace and happiness. All you must do is give in completely to his whims and embrace his teachings fully. And I am here to help you cross into a new and all-encompassing utopia. And to be able to make this happen, we’re gonna have y’all line up so we can take, I mean accept, your financial donations and measure you for your robes.

Me: Um, Slappy? Exactly what are Lord Marphus’ teachings?

Grand Poobah: What is your name son?

Me: It’s Josh.

Grand Poobah: No longer. You shall be known as PITA.

Me: PITA?

Grand Poobah: Yes, my child. “Pain In The Ass”. Now get line with the rest of the sheep…I’m mean Children of Love and Light.

Me: You got it!

(six months later)

Me: Hey Fuzzy, tell me again why we’re here at the airport?

Fuzzy: We are here to discover more Children of Love to embrace the teachings of Lord Marphus and return with us to the compound to begin the learning process. Just as we did.

Me: Gotcha. And why are so many people laughing and spitting on us? Is it the robes? Cause I just purified mine in the waters of Lake Minnetonka.

Fuzzy: They are unwise and unwilling to accept love into their hearts. Worry not PITA, the right Children shall come with us.

Me: I sure hope it’s soon, that last guy just spit a mouthful of tobacco juice in my face. It’s dripping down and now I can taste the inside of his mouth.  

Fuzzy: Just be patient and all bliss will come unto us. Trust in our Blessed Lord, praise be unto him.

Me: Right. Praise be unto him. It better not take too long; this damn hemp underwear is itchy and giving me worst wedgie.

Fuzzy: Here’s somebody! Excuse me brother, would you like to learn the teachings of our Lord Marphus and how you can be saved?

Guy at Airport walking briskly past: Get away from me, weirdo. You smell like a hobo’s unwashed crotch.

Me yelling after him: Don’t worry man. It may all not be true. I still don’t know how to get a bigger dick!

Man, this cult sucks balls!