Alien Night Club - Show 21?
Alien Night Club <the transcripts>
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Greetings, greetings, greetings. Greetings and salutations, like Christian Slater said in Gleaming the Cubs. No, Cube. No, that’s not right. It was the one where he was the highschool DJ. And he had a pirate radio station in his bedroom. And everyone in school would tune in to his show every night. And one night, he pretended to masturbate. He was slapping the back of his neck with one hand while he walked around his bedroom carrying the microphone with the other hand. People loved it. He was like the 2nd coming of Jack Nicholson. Wait’ll they get a load of me.
I suddenly have an intense desire to watch Batman.
But I won’t. Because I’m here. With you.
Pump Up the Volume. 1990, I think. Talk Radio came out in 88 so maybe it inspired Pump Up the Volume. And Good Morning, Vietnam was, I think, in 87. So maybe it inspired Talk Radio.
Anyway.
Welcome to the show. Show 21. Allegedly.
Welcome to the Alien Night Club. I am your host, your non-adjectival host, defier of adjectives, Captain Blank. Thank you for being here.
The club is looking good tonight. Very classy. Very classy.
We should probably get to show notes because there’s a lot. I was enjoying my morning coffee this morning, obviously. Or, perhaps, not so obviously. Because if someone works swing shift or graveyard and they sleep all day and work all night and they wake up at 6pm because they have to be at work at 9pm and work all night until 6am, then, for them, 6pm is morning. So if they wake up and drink coffee at 6pm, it’s still morning coffee even though to the rest of us, it’s 6pm and it’s evening time and we’re getting home from work and are looking forward to a beer or a glass of wine or a bong hit or a spliff – still don’t know where that word came from – and, especially, a shower.
Take a shower when you get home from work.
Trust me.
It makes a huge difference. You feel so much better. You wash off the oogie residue bullshit from the day, you put on clean clothes, something comfortable but not slovenly because you still need your partner to find you sexy, and then you go about your evening. You make dinner, you eat, you’re relaxed. Maybe you watch some TV or a movie or whatever it is you’re watching right now. But it’s better when you’re clean.
It’s also a lot of fun to imbibe before you get in the shower. That way, it hits you while you’re in there. It elevates the shower experience. It makes it much more fun and much more enjoyable.
Point being that that person wakes up at 6pm, showers, drinks coffee, eats food, what they probably call breakfast, and goes off to work.
Do they call it breakfast? And do they eat breakfast food?
I’ve never had a job like that so I don’t know.
If you’ve had a job like that, when you woke up in the afternoon or early evening because you had to go to work, did you drink coffee and did you eat traditional breakfast foods like eggs and toast and jam or cereal or muffins or whatever? Or do you wake up and want dinner food? Like enchiladas. Like you wake up and take a shower and haul ass to the nearest sit-down Mexican joint to get chips and salsa and enchiladas.
I knew a guy once, friend of a friend mostly, who worked the front desk of a posh hotel in L.A. and one evening a group of us got together at a Mexican place and he commented about having Mexican food for breakfast. So I got the impression that it was unusual. Meaning he normally eats breakfast foods like cereal or eggs or whatever. He even had a little bit of white toothpaste dried on his lip. And his eyes were kinda glazy and sleepy looking. So maybe for him it was the equivalent of getting up at like 5:30 in the morning when you usually wake up at 6:45 or 7:00.
Point being that I was enjoying what, for me, was my morning coffee and was doing some reading and began working on the notes for tonight’s show. And it was quite a bit of stuff. I was having fun. We’ll go over it together like we always do.
By the way, tonight’s shirt says Not A Real Man. More on that later.
Show notes!
First, are you guys afraid of ghosts? Do you have ghosts where you come from? Alien ghosts? Ghost aliens? Do aliens get together for, like, seances and shit? Is Madame Alien Ruby staring into a crystal ball and telling you that the thing that you seek is in the basement of the Alamo?
And by the way, why did Tim Burton show the road sign being pulled along on dollie tracks by a rope? And why did he show Peewee pulling the seemingly endless chain up through the bottom of the bike's saddlebag? Because it was meta and therefore funny? In, like, 1986?
Do you have any dreams? Quote unquote.
I'm all alone. I'm rolling a big donut and a snake wearing a vest–
Not that sort of dream.
Quote unquote.
And then they talk about Simone going to Paris and her boyfriend Andy who is some sort of impediment to that.
And Peewee goes, It's your dream, Simone, you haff to follow it.
Quote unquote.
There's that word again: haff to. It's from 20th-century English. It means should or must. Not to be confused with have, which is similar but also implies possession. Which haff does not.
Point being, is Peewee right? Do we haff to follow our dreams? What if we try and they don't come true? Or we fail? Or someone fucks us over? Bad. Badly. Like they steal a song we wrote and put it on their record. So we find a lawyer and sue the everloving shit out of them. And the label has to pull the album off the shelves. Like literally – Jeremy Clarkson – literally off the shelves. And people who love that artist and are psyched for the new album hear that it's out and they go to the store but they can't find it. So they ask someone who works there. And they're all, We had to take it off the shelves. And the person's all, How come? And the other person is like, I dunno, something about a lawsuit.
Something about a lawsuit indeed.
And then your lawyer calls you and quits. And you're like, What the fuck? Especially because it’s been a couple months and you already paid them 10 grand. So you get a new lawyer. And then they call you and they quit, too. After you paid them another 15 grand. And you're like, What the FUCK?
And they basically imply that they were sort of threatened stroke bribed. And they have a family and a practice and kids they'd rather not see kidnapped or murdered.
And you learn that big companies have funds set aside to settle lawsuits.
Because it's cheaper, easier or somehow preferable to doing the honorable thing which is to compensate the artist who created the thing they're stealing.
Point being that you had the guts to chase your dreams.
And then the Powers That Be ripped you off. And the artist whose album now has YOUR song on it was once one of your favorites. And you used to spend hours and hours in your room, singing your heart out to their music. And now, when you see them dancing around in the music video with a girl who is also in the business and who's drummer you gave your song to, you want to scream and gouge their eyes out and take a giant steaming shit in their bloody eye sockets like some kind of crazy German porno.
But you can't.
So you give up.
You don't quit. You keep playing and singing and writing songs and performing and busking in the streets of dozens of European and U.S. cities, living on $1 to $2 a day. A $0.99 Wendy’s baked potato is your dinner. A feast. Or a box of fried rice for a dollar. And it’s fine. And as long as you have coffee and chocolate, you’re fine. So you keep going.
But the fun is gone. It's lost its lustre. And your heart really isn't in it anymore. Not like it was. Because you see now how the machine really works. And it's cold and callous. And it doesn’t give a shit about you or anyone else. It cares only about feeding the incessant hunger of the public consumerism beast. Because it always wants something new. Even if it means stealing from artists and shitting on their dreams.
So what's better?
That – all of that – or not following your dreams but also not having your dream shattered and your heart broken?
Which is worse: the regret of never having tried? Or of trying and learning that business trumps art and no one cares about you and your dream?
Other such examples include the following, or so I’ve heard; I don’t know this to be TRUE, which is exactly the problem:
Unforgiven
The Terminator
The Matrix
Do you guys believe in reincarnation? Is reincarnation a thing on your planet? Or planets. Does your culture believe in that? Or perhaps have proof of it? Because people on Earth would love to see that. So if you have proof, take it to Earth and make a Netflix series or get it up on YouTube or Spotify or one of the big streaming platforms in China that make Spotify look like a mouse turd.
Also, if you're a ghost hunter, and you’re about to go out on an investigation, why not make a sign that says who you are and why you're there and what your name is and what year it is? So the ghosts can read your sign. So they'll see that you mean them no harm. And maybe you can ask yes no questions which they can answer by making a flashlight flash once for yes, twice for no. I’ve seen that done before. In the Sharon Tate house. Which was either fake…or totally nuts.
And then you could sit and have conversations for hours and hours and hours. You could get to know them. You could have indisputable evidence.
Next, and this is not directly related to ghost hunting, although it could be: Remember: focus on what you want.
Courage?
Use the word courage. I want Courage on my tee shirt.
It does NOT say No Fear. Because what is that going to get you? More fear!
Speaking of scary shit, if you’re dating or married to a late night host, have them come over after you watch their show. That'll make it seem like they went from the studio to your house. It'll be funner that way.
Funner.
Funner is wrong, by the way, but it’s funny. And it’s funny because it’s wrong. But a lot of people think it’s right and they run around saying funner funner funner. And people around them who know funner is wrong and you’re supposed to say more fun look at them and think, Poor dumbass. Which means they’re dumb. Their ass is dumb. As is the rest of them. It has nothing to do with a bass that is dumb. A stupid fish. Which is what the word dumbass sorta looks like if you think about it.
Fish are dumb, though, if you think about it. Technically speaking. Because, technically, dumb means unable to speak. Unable to talk. And fish don’t talk. At least I don’t think they do. They’re not whales or dolphins. That is not to say that they don’t communicate. Because they do. You can totally make friends with a fish if the circumstances are right and you’re both so inclined. Like if you had a big freshwater swimming pool, or a saltwater swimming pool depending on the type of fish, and you got in there with goggles or a mask and snorkel or full-blown scuba gear and you hung out with those fish, they would get to know you. And you would get to know them. And you’d learn their personalities. The same way you do with the other animals or living creatures in your home. Your dogs, your cats. Your children. If you have more than one, each one is unique, isn’t it? Even if you’re trying really hard to do everything the same for each one of them. But there are too many variables to account for to really be able to do that. Plus each one has its own unique genetic code. And its own unique spiritual code.
But that might make an interesting series. Someone who spends hours and hours a day swimming in their own aquarium. What if their house was mostly aquarium? A big house with a huge, totally professional aquarium. And you could get into the water and swim around whenever you want. And you have a bunch of fish in there. And you start to get sucked into their society. Fish society.
Because each day you get in the water, things are different. Like maybe one day all the blue rocks have been moved from a certain area to another area. And there’s a blue fish who you know lives in that area. And a different fish lives in the area where the blue rocks used to be. So overnight, that blue fish came and sucked up blue rocks in its mouth and took them back to its territory and spit them out. And it went back and forth all freakin night, sucking up blue rocks and spitting them out, swimming back and forth, back and forth. Until all the blue rocks were in its area.
And now the other fish has no blue rocks. None. Only pink rocks. And you can tell that fish is like, What the fuck?
But it doesn’t know what to do about it.
And you kinda feel bad for it. And you’re a little bit pissed at the blue fish for stealing all the blue rocks and moving them. Because now you have to move them back. And it’s a tedious process. You have to pick them up one at a time because they’re mixed in with the pink rocks. And eventually you get pissed and say fuck it and you mix the blue rocks and pink rocks together all over the bottom of the tank.
And then you have to get out to eat dinner or go to bed or whatever.
And when you wake up in the morning, you check on the fish and you see that the blue fish took all the blue rocks again. So its little section of tank is pink and blue rocks. And the other fish has only pink rocks.
And you’re like, Man, I guess that blue fish really likes blue. Maybe it’s because he she it they is blue and wants to see more of the color blue in its house.
And when you get home from work that evening you’re excited to go swim with the fishes and you even want to sleep with the fishes, because it’s Friday night and you’re gonna get super high and be like real-life Aquaman stroke Woman.
There’s your title! Sleeps With the Fishes.
Because it also means to be dead. It’s like something they said in New York in the 1930s after somebody got whacked and their body was thrown into the water. The East River or Hudson Bay or the friggin Atlantic Ocean or whatever. They’d say, So and so sleeps with the fishes.
Only you’re going to actually do it. You’re gonna float in there with an air hose and a wetsuit and try to sleep.
Unless it’d be more fun to be naked…. Is skinny dipping with fish…weird?
So, anyway, as you’re getting ready, you notice that the blue fish took all the pink rocks, too. And it now has all the rocks and the other fish has no rocks. And you’re standing there looking at the situation and the little white fish with no rocks is clearly swimming close to the wall of the tank, looking right at you, and then flittering around over its barren lexan area as if to say, Do you see this? Look at this! What the fuck?
And the blue fish is over there kind of ignoring you. Like you can see its eyes glancing at you guys but it's just acting all casual and just sort of swimming around, not really doing anything, turning its back to you sometimes, pretending to be busy, but totally glancing over to see what you’re gonna do. Because you’re the rock mover. You’re the Big Naked Rock Mover.
Is that a better title? Big Naked Rock Mover?
So what do you do? Strip down, probably take a shower, maybe with special soap so you’re not tainting the water, grab your mask and regulator, take a PHAT bongrip, put on your mask, put the regulator in your mouth, and swim down there to the corner to talk to those two fish? Especially the blue one?
What do you say?
You pick up a handful of their rocks and make eye contact with them and shake your head and wave your finger at them in a gesture of obvious disapproval? And then deposit the rocks in the other part of the tank, where the white fish is flitting about, inspecting each handful, kind of excited but also kind of agitated or resentful in their body language.
And then, after you take care of all of that, thinking maybe you should just let the blue fish keep the rocks and you’ll buy more for the white fish, you get out to go eat or take a poop or something. And you come back and swim down to that area of the tank to see if the blue fish is stealing rocks again and you find the blue fish trying to murder the white fish!
They’re swimming in circles and in loops, in and out of the mountains and seaweed and plants and the big sunken pirate ship you love to swim through yourself, especially because a king crab lives in there and it always comes over and insists on sitting on your chest and looking you in the eye and you find yourself having some sort of spiritual connection to a crab. Whose pinchers stroke claws are big enough to probably break or at least badly cut your finger if it ever got you.
And once you arrive, the blue fish stops chasing the white fish. They retreat to their respective areas. And you’re like, OMG, I just stopped a fish homicide.
Blue Fish White Fish. That could be a good title.
Who would you like to see as the host stroke star of the show? Who would you like to see scuba diving naked?
Having someone in the tank at night might be weird at first for the fish. Because they’re getting ready to go to bed and there’s this new, very large creature in there and it could be a predator.
It would be cool to set up LED lights and turn the aquarium into a disco at night. To see if the fish enjoy it.
Anyway, you get the idea. Watching people swim naked is very erotic. So I’m sure the ratings or views would be great. Hey, you guys gonna watch White Fish Blue Fish tonight?
Definitely. But I thought it was called Blue Fish White Fish.
Oh. Yeah, maybe it is.
Speaking of naked, is your skin ashy? And if so, do you know why? I don’t tend to be very ashy but I’ve noticed lately since I got here that I have been. Mostly on my lower legs. My skin is dry and definitely looks ashy. But it’s because my diet has been weird. I eat mostly protein. Which means fewer carbohydrates. Which means less water in your body. Which means less water in your skin. Which means dry skin. Because you have to eat your water. Most of the water you drink winds up in your bladder. Body water has to be extracted from the food you eat as it goes through your intestines. So if you don’t eat a lot of carbs or foods with water in them, like vegetables and fruit and starchy things like rice or pasta, you’re going to have less water in you. And you may be ashy.
Bill Burr has a whole discussion he had with his wife about being ashy. Which is why I bring it up, because it’s his bit.
Maybe Ashy is the name of the white fish.
What’s the blue fish’s name? Bluebeard? Because he’s blue and he’s a pirate constantly stealing other people’s shit, plundering their loot?
And people will be all like, Does this show have racial overtones? Because that fish is blue. So is it like a cop? And it’s stealing from the other fish? Is it a bad cop? Like Harvey Keitel in Bad Lieutenant?
And the showrunners are all like, Well, no, Bluebeard is a fish, not a cop. This is not intended to be in any way some sort of commentary on race relations.
And they’re all like, Well then how come yesterday when you were at work, that blue motherfucker went out and killed a black fish and then came home and acted like nothing happened? And the white fish, too. Ashy. Ashy didn’t do shit. Just stood there and watched, little fins fluttering. And the black fish had yellow and green rocks. And now Ashy has yellow and green rocks. What the hell is going on in that aquarium? Is this honestly a show about racist fish? Because, if I want to see that, I can just go out my front door and walk down the street.
And everybody’s like, Dude, have you heard about this show with the accidentally-racist fish? It’s crazy. What is going on in there?
And the gorillas are like, Motherfucker, you know exactly what’s going on in there.
And the outcast albino gorilla who hangs out with the human biologists and zookeepers all day is like, Exactly. sniff sniff.
That’s the albino gorilla sniffling because it’s crying, not because it’s doing massive rails of blow. Although that would be funny, too. The albino gorilla hangs out with the White humans because they’re all a bunch of coke heads.
Has anyone ever offered a gorilla cocaine? Cut some up on a mirror and snorted a line with a rolled up dollar bill and then handed the mirror and the dollar to the gorilla to see what it does?
What about weed? You show the gorilla how a bong works, how to put their lips on it. Or you roll a joint, light it, take a nice drag, and hand it to the gorilla as you exhale your smoke in the air. And the gorilla watches you and emulates what you just did. And then the THC hits and the gorilla gets high as a kite and starts rolling around laughing and looking at itself in the mirror and hanging upside down. And then it makes some noises and waves at you. So you climb up onto the apparatus thing in there and hang upside down with the gorilla. And you’re both high as kites.
This could be the Millennial antihero version of a Kevin James zookeeper movie. It’s the world’s best — or worst — zookeeper. Investigating racial fish crime scenes and getting high with primates.
Fuck you, motherfucker! You’re going to give that gorilla lung cancer, you piece of shit!
Okay, then, we can stick with vaping. Or edibles.
If you took a bunch of raw meat for the lions and laced it with edibles, and tossed it in there and they all got high, what do you think would happen? Would they get really happy and start wrestling and chasing each other and playing?
What if you smoked out one of the big alpha male silverbacks? And it got horny and wanted to have its way with you? What would you do? Lie there and take it? Wait for it to finish? Probably. Yell and scream all you want but you can’t overpower a gorilla. Not in a million years. Especially not a big, high, horny one. Your best bet would probably be to distract it with some food. Keep a candybar in the pocket of your cargo shorts and if things get out of hand, reach into your pocket, grab that candybar, I’m thinking a Snickers or maybe a Twix, and crinkle the wrapper to get the gorilla’s attention. Get its attention away from raping you and toward the candy bar. Then huck that candy bar as far as you can and then run like hell in the opposite direction. It’s like if you’re ever going to be traveling abroad or maybe you live in a rough area or something, get a fake wallet. Buy a super cheap wallet and put some fake stuff in it, maybe a note that says Go Fuck Yourself, Loser! And then when someone tries to rob you or mug you, reach into your pocket like you normally would. Except that you take out that fake wallet with nothing in it. And you throw it and then run the other way. That mugger is going to go for the wallet, not for you. Maybe put a note in there along with $20 and a joint. And the note can say something about robbing people. But since it’s obviously THAT bad, here’s 20 bucks and some Mary Jane to hopefully make this a better day.
And then imagine bumping into that person again the next day. The person who robbed you.
What would they say?
Thank you?
Thanks for the money and the weed? I got high and went to McDonald’s and had the best motherfuckin chicken nuggets and Filet O’ Fish I’ve ever had, even though I wish they would bring back the Mulan McNugget Sauce.
And then what? If they mugged you again, that would make them a real dick. Someone helps you out with dinner and weed and you turn around and rob them again?
Two words: Fuck. You.
So, yeah, a fake wallet is probably not the worst idea.
But getting back to the racist fish and gorilla 4:20 hour, who would be good for that role? A woman? Because then watching her swim naked with the fish would indeed be very erotic. Like a picture of a woman going to the bathroom. That’s an SNL Patrick Stewart joke.
And what if she and the gorillas get high and she has sex with them? Or if they have a gorilla gang bang? Or a gorilla orgy.
Too much?
I’ve seen video of a woman in Florida swimming with a horny young dolphin and, allegedly, potentially, having sex with it. Has anyone in Florida ever had sex with a gorilla? Or anywhere in the world, for that matter? Like King Kong and Fae Rae stroke Jessica Lange only for real with actual penetration and whatnot?
Jeremy Clarkson discovered men in Columbia who do donkeys. For many men there, a donkey is their first lover.
Simple logic tells us that obviously there are people in the world having sex with gorillas.
Is that how Evolution really happened?
Wasn’t there a video of a guy letting a horse eff him in the ass and the guy died because the horse tore him up and he bled to death? Supposedly he was an engineer at Boeing.
Not a good look for Boeing.
Imagine going into THAT meeting.
You show up Monday morning, ready to work, ready to build airplanes and market them to international customers. And then you go into the conference room and there’s an all-hands call with corporate and the CEO is on the line. And the ENTIRE legal department. And they proceed to tell you that one of their engineers passed away over the weekend. It was Bill. Poor Bill. He was married, wife, kids, dog, mortgage, getting ready to fly to Maui for Christmas. Good guy. Oh, by the way, he went to some nearby stables owned by a friend and he went into one of the horse’s stalls and he pulled down his pants and turned around and let the horse sodomize him and he received life-threatening injuries which later proved to be fatal at the hospital. So, um, rest in peace, Bill and, um, how are we going to spin this?
And you’re sitting there thinking, I. Am. Never. Flying. Again. Some HORSE fucker is building the airplane we’re all entrusting our lives to? Hell, no. From now on, I’m driving. And if I can’t drive someplace, I’m not going. I really wanted to go see Disneyland Paris but fuck that. I’m not going now. My ass is driving to Anaheim. That’s the original Disneyland. It’ll be just fine. And if, by chance, one of the engineers at Mazda who built my car is also letting himself or herself get fucked by a horse and the next day at work they can’t concentrate because they’re still thinking about it, not to mention that they can barely sit down after literally taking a horse cock, and maybe they aren’t paying attention as they’re designing my seatbelt or my engine or my brakes, if something breaks, I can take the car to the dealer and have them fix it. I don’t have to worry about the airplane falling out of the sky!
Amen.
Where were we?
I wanted to ask if anyone ever got high with Koko. Koko was a fairly domesticated female gorilla. She grew up in captivity and they taught her sign language and she was very smart and could sign all sorts of things. And she even had a cat. I don’t know if she asked for a cat or if they just brought it to her. But they brought her a kitten. And she took it and loved it and raised it and loved it. Until the cat died. And then they had to try to explain to Koko what dead is. Because Koko kept asking where her cat was. And they didn’t know what to tell her or how to help her understand. This is another Bill Burr bit, Koko and her cat, which is a brilliant observation. I think the cat got hit by a car.
Point being that in all that time, you’d think someone would’ve at least thought about it. The U.S. military has dolphins trained to plant bombs on the bottom of enemy ships so they can then swim away and the bomb can be detonated remotely and the ship sunk. You don’t think they’ve gotten gorillas high just to see what they do? They’ve been trying to create supersoldiers for decades. Getting a man high and a gorilla high and comparing their behavior seems like a logical part of that supersoldier development process.
You might not want to be in there with the gorilla the first time, though. Because it could get aggressive, like we talked about before. Or it could get paranoid and think you’re a cop like Bluebeard the fish and you’re there to take it to jail.
Unless Sam Jackon goes in there and gets high with the gorilla. And the gorilla’s all like, What’s up, brother? You got any more of that really good herb?
And Sammy is like, Yes, I do. Here you go: 100% organic Hindu Kush.
And the gorilla is like, Fuck, man! I told you: NO indicas. I’ve got stuff to do. I’ve got zoo visitors to meet. They want me to sit there and pretend I’m interested in all that dumb crap they’re showing me on their phones. Like I’ve never seen a smartphone. We have an Xbox AND a Playstation back there. When you got your ass WHIPPED on Gears of War last night, that was us. We’re forming our own eSports league so we can hopefully get a sponsor. That way, we can upgrade our habitat. Everybody wants a jacuzzi and a bunch of waterbeds. They’ve all been watching too much Blue Fish White Fish. Which reminds me, what is up with that motherfuckin fish?
And Sam goes, What fish?
And the gorilla says, Motherfuckin Bluebeard. We watched him kill that black fish in cold blood. And that naked human didn’t do a goddamn thing. And Bluebeard done killed two more black fish and that bitch ain’t even noticed yet. She’s over there in the corner helping Ashy count rocks. While innocent fish are getting whacked left and right. Fish lives matter, motherfucker! Do you not see the pattern here? Today it’s fish and tomorrow it’s us? The gorillas? And the chimps and orangutans, too? If all y’all aren’t careful, it’s gonna get real up in here. Y’all are gonna leave us with no choice but to get all Planet of the Apes. And if that happens, I can’t make any promises. I appreciate you bringing us all the weed, but at a certain point, lines will haff to be drawn. And which side of that line you’re on may make things very uncomfortable. I ain’t got no beef with you personally. I’m just sayin. If shit goes sideways, watch your back. I may not be able to protect you. There could be a sharpened spoon with your name on it, weed or no weed. You feel me?
And Sammy’s all like, Damn, nigga, I think the Kush is making you paranoid.
And the gorilla goes, Not all of us get to play God. And by the way, Tarzan was a bunch of bullshit. The way I heard it, that motherfucker was not king of the apes. He was just some White kid who got lost in the jungle for 20 years. And the only reason they didn’t kill him was because some of the female gorillas felt sorry for him. They gave him some milk to keep him alive and nurse him back to health.
And Sam says, Where did they get milk in the middle of a jungle?
And the gorilla says, Where do you think, motherfucker?
And Sam says, They were breastfeeding a human child?
And the gorilla says, Obviously. They couldn’t just let it die. I know we’re gorillas but we’re not savages. And he actually turned out to be a pretty sweet kid. A little weak and scrawny but he was also smart. He taught us how to smoke weed.
And Sam says, You guys didn’t know how to do that?
And the gorilla says, We only had edibles. He figured out how to make fire. Then it was just a matter of time before someone rolled a blunt big enough to fuck a Boeing engineer to death.
And then what happened, Sammy?
SV: We laughed and laughed and laughed. And then we laughed some more. That gorilla is one funny motherfucker.
Indeed.
So, that’s the end of show notes. They were actually done a while ago. The dry skin thing was the last of it. Before we got off on White Fish Blue Fish and gorillas getting high.
What do you guys want to talk about now?
Vivisection?
No, you don’t; TRUST me.
Vas deferens?
Also no. It’s gross.
Volcanoes?
Has anyone here been within spitting distance of actual molten lava? So close that you could feel the heat? And if so, weren’t you shitting your pants?
Pretend you go to Hawaii. The whole island is a volcano. It could be blasted to bits at any time. And you choose to go get within a few feet of magma?
No thanks.
No magma for me. No magma, no frozen lakes, no lions or tigers or bears that are supposedly tame but who could kill you within a few seconds if they wanted to, whether on accident or on purpose.
Haven’t you guys listened to the 9-1-1 call of that family being murdered by their quote unquote pet chimpanzees? It’s horrific. With a capital H. Sammy?
SV: Capital motherfuckin H. What’s in your fake wallet?
Twenty bucks and a blunt. That’s what I’m putting in my fake wallet. Only in California, though. Or New York or New Jersey or someplace weed is legal. I’m not going down for possession because I had a fake wallet with a blunt in it – a spliff – that I was carrying just so that in the off chance I was mugged, I could toss the fake wallet at the attacker and then run away, leaving him her it they them to examine the wallet to see how much cash is in it only to discover there’s also a joint along with a hand-written note containing the perfect nugget of wisdom they needed to hear in order to stop mugging people and get their life back on track. And they sat in McDonald’s, enjoying their Filet O’ Fish sammich and box of nuggets, which they were eating with the spicy mustard because McDonald’s pulled the Mulan sauce after the movie tanked and the promo ended. And they ate and read the note and were so moved that someone actually cared enough to do such a nice thing for a total stranger who was trying to steal from them. So now they’re going to go see their family and promise to turn over a new leaf. Right after they take a shower. And so they left McDonald’s, filled with hope and optimism and joy. And they wound up running for mayor so they could do something to help people like themselves who hadn’t had the good fortune of accidentally robbing a mysterious benefactor who was prepared with a fake wallet containing 20 bucks and a blunt, as well as a hand-written note containing the wisdom of the ancients. And they become mayor. And they clean up the city. And they run for governor. And they clean up the state. And they run for president. And they win! And they clean up the country. And eventually the whole world. And at last there is world peace, no more poverty or famine or war. And it’s all because of a fake wallet containing 20 bucks and a blunt. Sammy, when you eat nuggets, do you prefer barbecue, sweet and sour, or honey mustard?
SV: I like all three. I get two of each because I like a lot of sauce. I like my nuggets nice and wet. I like my nuggets to be creaming in their panties they’re so wet. And then I like to open one of each. And I take my time dipping my nugget into first one sauce, after which I take a bite. And then I dip into a different sauce, after which I take another bite. And then I dip my nugget into the third sauce, after which I finish that particular nugget. And then I repeat the process with the remaining nuggets after I take a drink of a refreshing beverage to wash them down with.
And does that pretty much make you the Big Kahuna?
SV: I suppose it does.
And have you ever gotten high with a gorilla?
SV: No, I have not.
Would you like to?
SV: As long as I knew the gorilla wouldn’t rip my face off, maybe.
Maybe?
SV: Yes, maybe. The whole thing could arguably be construed as animal abuse.
Well, yes. But the gorillas are already in the zoo. Some people would say that in and of itself is the abuse. The PETA people probably would. Even though a lot of those gorillas were sick or injured or rescued or whatever and would’ve died on their own.
But short of not having them there, of releasing them back into the wild, if that’s even possible, especially for some of them, if they haff to live in a zoo or some sort of captivity, isn’t smoking them out doing them a solid? They get happy when the food arrives. Imagine how happy they’d be when they see the basket of edibles. All the special weed bananas.
The gorillas would love it. Special green bananas. GREEN bananas. Not yellow. Green.
Party time.
Imagine providing weed to inmates. Think they would like that?
Imagine all the people in prison for weed. They hear about this and they’re going to be like, What?! They send me to jail for weed – motherfuckin PRISON! – and now they’re bringing it in and letting us each smoke a joint each morning during breakfast and again at night before dinner!
That would be some serious hypocrisy.
You guys think they’ll ever make Mulan 2? That’s probably the only way we’ll ever get more Mulan McNugget sauce.
Unless we can get L.A. Beast to spearhead a campaign, the way he did for Crystal Pepsi. He got Pepsi to bring back Crystal Pepsi. How hard could it be to bring back Mulan Sauce? Kevin, what say you, good sir? Maybe get your bearings straight and take it from there? Maybe you and Grandpa Rick could team up. Disney and McDonald’s would be interested for sure.
I like to dip my nuggets in barbecue sauce and then in Ranch, and eat them together. Brown and white. Working together to create something new, a completely new flavor that would be impossible working alone. But through teamwork and sharing and collaboration, they combine to form an entirely new nugget flavor experience. Together. In love. The way God intended.
That’s our show! Goodnight, everybody!
Thank you for coming! We’ll see you tomorrow night.
Remember: real men don’t masturbate!
Remember to tip your waitress!
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