Alien Night Club - Show 14?
Alien Night Club <the transcripts>
If you’re just discovering this (Hi!), begin with The Pilot HERE.
New episodes every Saturday morning @ 9:09 a.m. EST. Yay!
*If you’re reading this in the email, it may be truncated unceremoniously. Kindly read via the Substack app. You’re awesome.
Show 14, Show 14, Show 14!
It was tempting to do a private show. Which would make this Show 15. But last night’s show ended on kind of a bummer with me forgetting those two nuggets. So I could not in good conscience skip a show. Redemption was in order.
Thus Show 14. Show 14? Sure, Show 14.
Let’s get right into it, because why not begin the redemption with a healthy dose – or a big fat wallop – or a big PHAT wallop, P-H-A-T – of serendipity?
Serendipity, by the way, is when there’s a cool coincidence that happens. And you discover something. And then you see another instance in which two dots are connected.
I’m in kind of a bad mood, by the way. Not sure why. Things started out okay. I slept pretty well. Stayed up too late again, though. But I got plenty of sleep. But that negative self-talk just creeps in, doesn’t it? It’s like some asshole who hates you standing there beside you, following you around, muttering really bad stuff in your ear.
And you’re the one doing it! You’re doing it to yourself. So don’t do that. Don’t talk to yourself like that. Don’t sit there and mind-fuck yourself by saying a bunch of dark and mean and destructive and discouraging stuff that you would never say to another person.
Treat yourself like you’re someone you’re in charge of taking care of. Like a dog. A dog that you love very, very much. Or a cat. Or a ferret. Or a bird. Or a piglet. Whatever. Take care of yourself the way you take care of someone else who needs you.
So, on to the serendipity: why would you keep mutant bacteria in a pint of Cherry Garcia?
On the one hand, it makes perfect sense. It’s a small container in a freezer.
On the other hand, if the pint still has ice cream in it, you’re just asking for someone to come and eat it, along with the mutant bacteria. You should probably get a Sharpie, maybe a red one, and draw a biohazard symbol on it. That’s an appropriate place for it to be. Not on your forearm where you’re going to see it every day and it’s going to program you to hate yourself. It’s like that evil self-talk fatherhumper drove you to the tattoo parlor and made you sit in the chair and made the artist inject that self-loathing into your skin, into your SOUL, with their needle gun. And now every morning when you wake up, you see that and you go, Oh, yeah; I’m supposed to hate myself; I’m supposed to remember that life sucks and humans suck and we should all die.
Does that seem like a healthy way to start your day?
No.
You’d be much better off eating a pint of Cherry Garcia. Probably not the whole thing and not every day because it’s a lot of calories. But research does suggest that your muscle cells are more primed to receive nutrients in the morning, suggesting you should eat a good, high-quality breakfast to give your body what it needs to build and perform. Whereas your fat cells are more primed to receive nutrients at night, suggesting you should eat lighter in the evening and before bed because the more you eat at night, the more those calories are going to wind up in your fat cells. And next you know, Spring time rolls around and you dig out that pair of jeans you really like and you pull them on and you can’t button them. And you’re like, Man, did I wash these and shrink them in the dryer? So you wash them again and let them air dry. And three days later, when they are FINALLY dry, you put them on AND YOU STILL CANNOT BUTTON THEM.
And you’re like, What the fuck? And you look at the jeans and you read the tag to check the size because maybe they’re someone else’s jeans or something.
Nope.
Those are your jeans. But, and this is literally a big butt, you’ve gained 7 pounds in the past 8 or 9 months and now you’re too fat for your jeans.
Which reminds us why 6 was afraid of 7: because 7 8 9.
Say it out loud to yourself if you still don’t get it. It’s funnier spoken than written. Seeing it in writing presents a choice. Like Indie choosing the chalice of a carpenter to save his dad.
But, yeah, serendipity. When you think about something or talk about something or do something and a day or two later, you encounter it again somewhere else. Call it serendipity, law of attraction, God stroke Gawd….
I think it’s confirmation that you’re on the right path and that you are where you are supposed to be.
I’m not sure what exactly you’re supposed to do with that information once you’ve received it but it is nice to have it. It’s good to notice it. Like that day I saw 5 praying mantises. Wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do about it. Other than take notice of it and be grateful and say thank you to God stroke God, Source, the Universe, the angels, your higher self, your future self reaching back to you from the future, communicating with you across time, guiding you.
Maybe that’s what spirit guides are: our future selves or our parallel selves watching us from an adjacent parallel reality where they are close enough to sort of interact, to be able to look back at their past which is still our future and give us the intuition and guidance and inspiration and creativity that we need. To give us ideas, gems, scooped out of that flowing river of brilliant rainbow light, so we can take them and run with them and develop them into something good and great and beneficial to humanity, even if it’s only in the form of entertainment that can provide a moment of escape in which they can laugh and have a good time and be recharged and revitalized.
By the way, here’s something else I’ve noticed: Great does not mean good.
Great is not a value statement or a qualifier of how much you like something. Like, How’s that pie? How’s that Cherry Garcia? It’s great!
What you actually mean is that it’s tasty and you like it and are enjoying it very much and for the moment you don’t care if your favorite jeans will be too small in 9 months.
Great is a measure of scope. Of size. Of vastness.
Oceans on Earth are great. Mountains are great. Because they’re friggin huge. Everest is great.
Remember in the first Harry Potter, after Harry got his letter despite Uncle Vernon’s best efforts to prevent it and Hagrid took Harry to Diagon Alley so he could get his books and robes and wand and stuff for school? Where did Harry go to get his wand? Olivander’s, right? Because, like Hagrid said, there was no one finer.
Interestingly, I always got the vibe that Olivander was not necessarily a good guy. He was kind of Chaotic Neutral in my opinion. Not good or bad, definitely a business man in it for himself.
Point being that what did he say to Harry after he gave Harry THE WAND? The wand whose sister gave Harry his scar? He said its owner used the wand to do great things. Terrible things. But great.
See? Ol’ Moldy Voldy did some bad shit. But he did BIG shit.
You think Voldermort pooped? Did we ever see him eat? In the earlier books and films, he was still non-corporeal, he didn’t really have a body of his own yet. But once he had one, did he have an anus? He didn’t have a nose so maybe he didn’t have an anus. Like the Ghoul in Fallout.
Do you think he was banging Helena Bonham Carter? I’m talking about Voldemort, not Ralph Fiennes. Do you think Voldy and Bellatrix were getting it on? She became one of his best lieutenants, right? They probably spent a lot of time alone together…. Voldy probably hadn’t scored for a long time, maybe not since he was Tom Riddle. Or do you think he was a virgin?
Was that why he was so determined to take over the world? Because he was sexually frustrated because the other kids at school were dicks? We know they were dicks to Snape. Poor old Severus. Professor Snape.
Anyway, don’t say great when you mean tasty or entertaining or of high quality. And don’t say good when someone asks you how you are. Say you’re well. If you say, I’m good, I’ll say, At what?
If you say, I’m doing good, I’ll say, Oh really? Are you working at a soup kitchen right now or tutoring some kids and helping them understand math or how to read more better?
If you say you’re doing good, it means you’re engaged in an act of goodness; you’re doing good; you’re doing a good deed.
Filling your own face with spoon after spoon of Cherry Garcia is not a good deed. It might be FUN; but I don’t think it qualifies as a good deed. Now, if you’re helping someone with math or teaching them how to read gooder, THEN you can say, I’m doing good.
It would be more of a response to WHAT are you doing rather than HOW you are doing, though.
And, also, as always, please remember that aircraft is already plural. If you say aircrafts, I’m going to take that spoon out of your hand and stab you with it. And you’ll die with a mouth full of Cherry Garcia.
That’s another Alan Rickman reference for you, by the way, from that Robin Hood movie he did with Kevin Costner. Alan tells Kevin that he’s going to gouge his eyes out with a spoon. And his cousin is sitting there later, deep in thought, and he says, Why a spoon, cousin? And Alan Rickman says, Because, nitwit, it’s dull, it’ll hurt more! And Alan Rickman played that character as well as Ol’ Moldy Voldy. See? Serendipity happening in real time!
But to die with a mouth full of Cherry Garcia may or may not be better than dying with a mouth full of JERRY Garcia, after whom that flavor of Ben & Jerry’s is named stroke created in the first place. Jerry was a member of a rock and roll band called The Grateful Dead. Note, also, that Grateful is spelled G-R-A-T-E, not G-R-E-A-T. The Deadheads, that’s what their fans are called, and the people in the band, too, I guess, were dead people who were grateful; thankful. They were not dead people who were great in the Voldemort-doing-great-but-terrible-but-great-things sense of the word.
Maybe that was one of the reasons I never liked the Grateful Dead: I didn’t care for all the skeletons. They used a lot of skeletons in the artwork for their band and their albums. That always struck me as morbid or dark or something. And I’ve always been neck-deep in darkness all by myself. Scary movies and whatnot. A lot of negative self-talk. I never went full-retard with the biohazard tattoo, though. And if you have one, maybe cover over it with something happy. Something positive. A smiley face or a ladybug or a dolphin or something. So when you wake up every morning and you’re sitting on the edge of your bed or you go to the bathroom to pee first thing, and you catch sight of your arm in your peripheral vision, you don’t see a scary, I hate myself biohazard symbol; you see something happy that makes you feel GOOD.
Program your mind with good things and you will feel good.
Program your mind with dark and negative things and you will feel dark and negative and negative and dark. Even just saying those words is like an injection of their essence. Like speaking negativity and darkness into reality.
So maybe make a concerted effort to think about and speak of good things. If you were a parent, would you let your thirteen-year-old go get a biohazard tattoo?
So why let yourself do it?
Unless you work with hazardous materials every day. But even then.
Nevertheless, the choice is yours.
And by the way, a minute ago when I talked about teaching someone how to read more better or how to read gooder, that was a joke. Those forms are incorrect. And when you learn how to speak properly, you’ll see that it’s funny.
But you have to KNOW the rules before you bend or break the rules. You have to know the rules so you can see the potential consequences of bending or breaking them. Otherwise you’re just a selfish, Chaotic Neutral asshole everyone kinda hates.
Anyway.
I didn’t intend to come out here and rant about grammar and Dungeons and Dragons.
Do you guys twerk? People on Earth do it. It’s when you shake your butt up and down in a provocative way. I’ve never twerked myself. I’ve never cared for it. But maybe if I tried it, I’d like it. How did the word originate? Is it an amalgamation of twat and jerk?
Do you guys have Presidents on your planet? Like people who think so highly of themselves that they can be the leader of a country? Or the, quote unquote, Free World?
Talk about some narcissistic shit. And some unbridled hero worship. Christ.
I hate politics. Let’s not speak of it again. Politics is our Voldemort. It is that which shall not be named or referred to in passing in any way shape or form henceforth and forevermore. Unless there’s a really juicy punchline to be had that is irresistible, especially if Sammy says it.
SV: Just tell me when. Because I will slay that shit.
I know you will. Remember in True Romance, in the beginning, just before Gary Oldman blew you away with a shotgun, and you guys were talking about oral sex and you said you eat the pussy, you eat the butt, you eat every damn thing? Is that really true?
SV: Ha. Ha. Ha. Motherfucker, what do you think?
Did you have to eat lots of butts to get the credit card job?
SV: Fuck you.
I’ll take that as a yes. It’s okay. As long as the ass is clean and is the ass of a person you’re attracted to, eating it is really nice. It’s actually quite arousing. For both parties. And, to borrow yet another quote from True Romance, Do I look like a beautiful blond with big tits and ass that tastes like French Vanilla ice cream?
And then Balky Bartokamus says, What?
And Christian Slater repeats the question, because Quentin thought it was hilarious when he wrote it and Oliver Stone thought it was hilarious when he read it and knew it was such a good line that it had to be in the movie. So he says again, Do I look like a beautiful blond with big tits and an ass that tastes like French Vanilla ice cream?
And then Balky says, No.
And then Christian says, So what are you doing? You trying to fuck me?
Point being that eating ass is nice and it’s extra nice when you incorporate food, in this case vanilla ice cream. Or chocolate sauce, although that might hit a little too close to home. Unless you’re into scat. Which I’m pretty sure I’m not. I’ve seen a few videos of that stuff, which happened to be from Germany. I’m not judging. But there’s talk about Germans having weird fetishes from all the self-hatred baked into their culture because of the actions of their ancestors. And it manifests as lots of dark stuff. Like S&M, scat…that kind of thing. I once saw a woman shit in a guy’s mouth and then command him to eat it. And he did. I had a hard time believing it was real. It had to be chocolate or something. Same with 2 Girls 1 Cup. No way that’s real. It’s soft serve. They must have used soft serve. It had to be fake but if it wasn’t, what does that say about the Human Race and the culture that that kind of thing would be conceived of, executed, captured with a recording device, uploaded to a global distribution system, and then viewed by billions of people around the world?
How much re-parenting of their inner child did those two girls with the cup and the person holding the camera need? What was their life like that they would decide to make that video?
How many people have pleasured themselves to that video?
No wonder the Borg don’t want to assimilate us.
You know the show has really gone off the rails when you’re using vomited and re-consumed feces as a litmus test for the intergalactic viability of Earth and its inhabitants.
Like I’m one to talk; back on Earth, I was shooting spaghetti up my ass for online donations. And then almost dying in a giant vat of canned spaghetti like some kind of postmodern wannabe Houdini douchebag. That’s me, Captain Blank.
By the way, I got wicked carpal tunnel opening all those giant cans of spaghetti. It took me an entire day just to open them. Then I had to dump them in the tank and rig up the whole straight jacket and the overhead pulley system and the cameras and lighting….
You know how many ring lights it took to do that?
That was the last video I made before the guy with the red skin and white hair came and abducted me.
Although, if I went voluntarily, can we still say I was abducted? I think not.
Point being that I got his attention. Or I got somebody’s attention. For better or worse. I don’t yet know if the abduction happened based on the quality of my entire body of work or if it was just that one last spaghetti vid.
Or it happened based on the complete lack of quality in my work.
Regardless, I’m here.
Point being that eating vanilla ice cream out of your lover’s ass? Nice.
Politics and politicians? Not nice.
If we all spent more time eating ass and less time believing the phony hysteria stirred up by the politicians so they can convince us to vote for them so they can keep their stupid fake job, the world would be a much happier place.
More orgasms, less violence.
But nice orgasms. Not meaningless orgasms had amongst strangers for money when your personal safety is on the line because you don’t know what sort of microorganisms this person has and is giving to you. Sex within the bonds of a committed relationship is safe because you probably both already have the same microorganisms. They say after you live with someone for a year, you guys have the same flora. Microorganisms and orgasms. Microorganismgasm. That sounds like a Hot Fudge Sundaes Song. Cue Sexy Black Voice!
SBV: And now, ladies and gentlemen, after a brief hiatus, or shall we say brief hi-ANUS, even though I’m not sure what that means, they’re back to put more cream in your earholes. Sit back and relax as The Hot Fudge Sundaes regale us with another unforgettable hit song you’ll still be listening to decades and decades from now, even though you’ll have mixed emotions about hearing the dumbed-down Muzak version of it while eating at any nearby fast food joint. Or while getting your oil changed. Or your hair cut. Or your nails done. Or while you’re on hold with the credit card company, again, because they just hit you with a $69 annual fee even though your card agreement specifically said there were no annual fees, which is why you signed up for the card in the first place, because you didn’t really want it to begin with but you thought maybe it would help your credit score, and now you’re gonna have to spend an hour on the phone arguing with someone who barely speaks English and makes you feel bad for them because they’re just trying to do their job but eventually you get sufficiently pissed that you ask to speak with a U.S.-based customer service rep, which means they’re required to transfer you but then the American turns out to be a real dick so you have to ask for an Escalation Specialist, and you get transferred again, so you have to explain the situation for a third time and you really just want to get off the phone and get some chicken nuggets with Szechuan sauce and some vanilla ice cream, probably Haagen Daaz, because your lover is in the shower preparing themselves for you at this very moment and you have some serious ass to eat. So to hell with credit card companies. Those extortionistic drug dealer business model motherfuckers! Sammy?
SV: What’s in your wallet?
A coupon for a free pint of Haagen Daaz Vanilla Bean. That’s what’s in my wallet. And a cease-and-desist from you-know-who.
So no more politics! Wait, we didn’t even get to the song. We didn’t get to hear the new song. What’s the name of it?
SBV: I’m gonna have a nervous breakdown, I swear to God stroke Gawd. Here is The Hot Fudge Sundaes performing their new hit song titled Microorganismgasm. So open up your earholes and get ready for it.
Thank you, SBV.
SBV: Don’t mention it.
{musical interlude}
Do you guys think that sometimes the people who make shows make a new show and it’s actually genuinely good so people love it. And it makes it on TV and the internet and stuff. And everyone is watching it. And at first, the people making the show are so excited and happy because their show is a hit, it’s a success, and they’re a success, and they’re making lots of money doing what they’ve always wanted to do, which is making art stroke entertainment and entertaining people, especially because they’re making more than their parents. And it’s way better than a 9 to 5. Unless you’re talking about the movie 9 to 5, then it is a toss-up at best, because that movie rules.
Side note, if you go around saying things are way better than other things, maybe stop doing that. Because it’s not really correct. You’re supposed to say it’s MUCH better. Or FAR better. But a while ago, some people began saying it was WAY better. And it was funny. The reason it was funny was because it was wrong. So it seemed irreverent, which means it’s like you’re giving the middle finger to the establishment. Which is something young people love to do. Until they get older and realize they are the establishment, and they’re listening to their favorite music in an elevator while they’re on their way upstairs to have a rectal exam they may or may not be secretly sexually aroused over; but that’s an inner inner-circle thing that only the White Widow knows about. Unless you and your spouse are like, Hey, let’s go together to see a doctor who will stick their finger up our butts while the other person watches because it’ll be super hot and we’ll get super mega ultra turned on and we’ll be so turned on that we have sex in the car because we can’t even wait until we get home. If that’s the case, then I guess have at it.
Point being, it’s not WAY; it’s MUCH or FAR. But since when it comes to eating vanilla ice cream out of your lover, who may or may not have just had a stranger’s hopefully-gloved finger in them, just remember one thing: too much is never enough. Cue Sexy Black Voice!
SBV: That’s right, ladies and gentlemen, friends both old and new, and lovers from around the quadrant, both old and new, forget about whatever refractory period you were in need of because your earholes are about to get bent over right now one more time. Hopefully that doesn’t sound too rapey. Here’s The Hot Fudge Sundaes doing their brand new hit song titled Too Much Is Never Enough.
{musical interlude}
Thank you gentlemen, thank you SBV. That was very sexy. And I actually did not find it rapey at all. Being bent over is what life’s all about. For those with the courage but to see. And a BUTT to SEE.
Anyway, getting back to the people who make shows, do you think that everything goes great for the first few years? But pretty soon they start to feel burned out or overworked or stressed out because their funny little idea morphed into a giant Funny Frankenstein with 100 people and a high-six or low-seven-figure budget and there’s all this talk about ratings and people are always joking and laughing about whether or not you can take the pressure, whether or not you’re going to focus…or you’re going to fold. And pretty soon you CAN’T take the pressure, and you absolutely WANT to fold. But you have a contract, which you apparently signed, even though it says you own nothing and they own everything. And that no matter how hard you work, they get all the money and you can’t quit because then you’ll be in what’s called breach of contract and then they’ll sue you and a judge will make you give back all the money they paid you to make the show and you’ll have to go back to doing oil changes and hating the fact that your favorite song that was originally an anti-war, fuck off or die anthem is now a watered-down example of modern society’s unslakable blood lust because it’s a giant vampire microorganism and you’re so stressed out that you can’t remember the last time you had an orgasm. And that trip to the proctologist when you were so nervous you got high in the car before you went in doesn’t count. And because you’re so stressed out and there’s no way out, the only way through is through. So you decide to keep making shows. But you stop caring. So the quality goes down. And pretty soon, you’re coming up with stuff that is so bad and so stupid that only an idiot would think it was actual entertainment. But they keep putting it on the air. And the advertisers keep buying slots. And it’s a giant orgy of money. And your so-called-show is just one sweaty cumshot among many. But it’s still better than changing the oil on an old Camry for a few bucks above minimum wage. Isn’t it?
Oh, one other thing: every day versus everyday. Please learn and know the difference. Everyone is using it wrong and 10 years from now Webster’s is gonna be all like, No, there’s just one usage: everyday. Grammar Nazis fuck off.
Oh, really? Grammar Nazis fuck off? First of all, it demeans the horrors of the Holocaust every time you add Nazi to whatever thing it is you want to demonize today. So stop doing that. Second of all, the Grammar Police called, said you’re all morons, and they’re on their way.
Here: You should brush your teeth every day; thus teeth brushing should be an everyday occurrence.
But you don’t go to the gym everyday. You don’t do yoga everyday. You don’t take a giant steamy shit with corn in it and then take a long hot shower to wash your holes real good so your lover can eat vanilla ice cream or hot fudge out of you everyday. Although you probably should. As long as you do it EVERY DAY, making it an EVERYDAY occurrence.
Are we clear?
We’re clear.
ARE WE CLEAR?
Crystal.
You’re welcome.
And for Pete’s sake, for PETE’S sake, not for mine or yours but for poor ol’ Pete’s…
There.
Is.
No.
S.
On.
Anyway.
This is the last time I’m going to say it. Anyone who persists in saying it, just know that you’re being quietly mocked by the rest of us and that no matter how many times you tweak your resume on The Ladders, you’re never going to get any of the jobs on there. But by all means keep trying because you never know.
Okay, that’s our show. Thanks, everybody. Goodnight! See you next time!
Remember: real men don’t masturbate!
Remember to top your waitress!
Oh, shit. I said top. I meant tip. Remember to TIP your waitress. Give her your tip while you top her. And then give her lots of money. That doesn’t make her a whore! It’s just meant as a sign of appreciation.
That’s sexisty, you racisty bigoty fuck!
Whatever you say, toots.
Goodnight, everybody!
Next Episode:
