DETROIT

Detroit rap clubs, soap thieves, ping pong monarchs, charred bassless klang, trap door kingpins, pig pen rabble-rousers, Chore Boy boxers. Black candle nighthawks, canoe cruisers & Motor City crushes, pitch black chariot races, decades-old waffle houses & teenage bartenders. Murder City stallions, against-better-judgement-walk-homes, tipped over flower pots & finding a diner, dynamite coney dogs & legendary HC. Macaroni spazzes & feelers feeling lucky, animal derby, Woodward Ave white light & ace bombers, truckers' friend, a street full of leaves. Corn dog chickenin's, Stubby Nubby's peace treaty, Tickle-Me Detroit Eagle's, cover charge & mustache wink, do you need a hand with that? Pickpocket lawyers, slim jim laws, Mexicantown deals, empty lanes, yellow & green grass, acid train stations, BBQ summit, Burk's Igloo. Cat wrestling & money on the kid, shit tacos & a nightmare walk-up, fish tank in the lounge, horse party, house stripper & backseat losers. Screaming is unnecessary, park on the steps, unmitigated gasps, hairy armor & a Sunday gumbo special, cheapest porn in town, sledged toilet.

RIP GOOD TIMES

EARTHQUAKE FORECAST

It was Halloween on Planet Christmas but that's beside the point. Shana Hannah Rama Hammytammer, heiress to the Hitler Castle Co., was trying to think up a slogan that would catch on & become "a thing" -- something that would get printed on t-shirts in various languages across the world. Something like Keep Calm & Carry On, she thought, but not something so bullshitty. Her attitude was questionable & the truth is that she just wanted to feel accomplished. How else to do that than create something "viral." Perhaps this line of thinking bothers you. Do you think you feel this way because there's something wrong with her or something wrong with you? Well, it doesn't matter because she thought of a slogan: WHAT'S WRONG WITH HAIR?? Give it some time. Maybe it'll grow.

DVD REBUTTAL

An exclusive international sales agent for Buddys, which furnished completion money for the original production company. The production company went bankrupt & an affiliate purchased the negative, outtakes, the right to use the screenplay, and all related rights, from the Trustee in Bankruptcy. The movie has never been licensed for video by the copyright owner. It will all be straightened out by the Courts. ALL present video versions are unauthorized, of inferior technical quality, and not as complete as the original version.

DVD REVIEW

DON'T BUY THIS DVD.

The DVD is a ripoff.

I just watched this fave old horror movie of mine in its DVD incarnation.

Only if you can't get it elsewhere should you buy this DVD.

This is edited in several places, including these two key scenes: first of all, in the famous shower scene, Jill gets forced out of the shower when a "mysterious stranger" turns off the cold water. In my recorded-from-cable VHS version, an additional short scene shows Jill not only jump out, but grab a towel and flash a brief, but lovely, full frontal - and if you're familiar with the movie, you know that the actess playing the character Jill is especially gorgeous.

That's gone from the DVD. It shows the brief, unrevealing dash from the shower, then cut to Jill wearing a robe in the kitchen.

WORKING

Scabbyhead was a crybaby
crying over any god
damn thing.

Obsessed with numerology,
the ethnic waitress
claims she can help,
pointing at old coins.

The first time
we all felt
terrible but amazing
watching his wounds
open before us.

Remember
it's summer now
you don't have to be
so scared of everything.

Don't mind me
I'm just sipping
a tall cool one.

THERE'S A PLACE FOR THIS WORLD IN EVERY BODY

NEW MUSIC
POURING OUT OF
THINGS
LIKE BUCKETS
AND
DOWN STAIRS
LIKE MAYBE YOU'D SEEN
IN YOUR FAVORITE MAGIC REALISM
MAGAZINE

QUEER BAIT'S EVEN SINGING A NEW TUNE
& IT SOUNDS GOOD!
IT SOUNDS LIKE A WILD PARTY
A SLEAZY QUEER BAIT TUNE
YOU MIGHT HEAR IT ON THE STREET
AND THINK
"I CAN HEAR THE TEARS OF THE BODY IN THIS ONE"
"I CAN HEAR THE EARTH'S SKIN IN THIS ONE"
"I CAN EVEN HEAR THE PRIVATE PARTS"

BOSCO WAS DOWN ON THE B-BALL COURT
BUT HE COULDN'T FIND ANYONE
THAT WANTED TO BUMP KNEES
HE WAS BUMMING HARD
WHERE WAS EVERY BODY?
SO HE TURNED ON THE RADIO
HE HEARD QUEER BAIT'S TUNE
QUEER BAIT WAS HUGE NOW
BOSCO HAD ALWAYS PICKED ON HIM

EVERYONE WAS LISTENING TO QUEERBAIT
THAT'S WHY NO ONE WAS PLAYING B-BALL
SO IT JUST GOES TO SHOW
STOP MAKING FUN OF OTHERS
OR ONE DAY YOU'LL HEAR THEM
ON THE RADIO
BEING SUCCESSFUL
WHILE YOU'RE A LOSER
THINKING ABOUT ALL THE BAD THINGS YOU DONE

SCENE FROM 'INVASION OF PIRACY' (TRUNCATED)

"You like deliveries," said the boy, "and I like to deliver." The chaise lounge glowed like a fiery hearth, dark paisley droplets dancing over an ocean of red velvet. At the foot of the seat, a bowl of raisins lie in the clutch of a bronze facsimile of an eagle's claw.

"I'm not like one of those women in your videos, Raúl."

"Haha! One of those women! You're lucky no blacks are around to hear you say something like that. Tell me, Mona: what exactly do you mean by those women?"

Mona twirled a hair wrap entwined with thin strands of brightly colored yarn between her fingers. Her eyes narrowed, the smokey eyeshadow made her look like gorgeous peruvian raccoon. "You know what I mean," she said, voice quiet and husky with emotion.

"What -- that you won't pucker up to a cock poking through the middle of a pepperoni pie? From your first sugar-coated kiss, I knew your participation in my little films would be denied. But I got what I needed from this illicit dalliance. This little tape will send ripples through the biz that will become waves that will become big, typhoon-like waves and stuff."

"You're beastly."

"Yeah, Mona. I'm a real zany little tasmanian devil. A-hee-hee-hee-hee-hee!!"

WOULDN'T IT BE SWELL

It would be so nice to have a body. Even if you're worried about big thighs or cellulite or a kind of pock mark or something, you can sit on a bench & bring your legs up to your chest, rest your elbows on your knees and smile at the moon if it's still out. This would be morning time, sitting on a bench with the sun on your face with the hanging, still moon above. On the bench, you don't really have anything to worry about except your sunglasses getting crushed on a table next to the bench by a tray or a big book if you have your eyes closed & you aren't paying attention.

And with cellulite, it's sad that you have so many people worried about that -- mainly women -- but you'll see a man walking a pair of matching dogs with some kind of sports outfit on but you can see he's got a gut under that top. You know that walking those dogs around the block is his exercise & he's going to go back to his fancy marina apartment and think, "Boy am I pooped after all that exercise," and he pours himself a whiskey & soda and sleeves away the sweat on his forehead. "It's 10AM and I feel fit as a fiddle," he thinks to himself.

OLIVE BAR FOR SINGLES

There's an olive bar for singles
where you can have the girl
of your dreams

guaranteed
twenty years younger
(or slightly less)

but like everybody
she still has her problems
which might be:

acne trouble
dog trouble
ex-boyfriend trouble

and while you came here
imagining escape,
trouble follows.