Alien Night Club - Show 25?
Alien Night Club <the transcripts>
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Show 25!
Show 25?
Sure, why not? Show 25.
We'll never know.
Yes, we do! It's Show 27, dipshit. You longhaired wannabe hippie racist dildo.
Thanks for that.
I love calling someone dildo. It's quite funny to me. I discovered that word when I was in 6th grade. At the same time I learnt the word smegma. And I initially confused them. Smegma, for anyone unfamiliar, and brace yourselves because it's nasty, is a white cheesy substance that accumulates on the Earthling penis, usually around the foreskin. Which made me think of dough. White cheesy substance. Dough. Dildough. D-O-U-G-H. Dough. You can see how I might have been confused.
What is a racist dildo? A sex toy who refuses to go inside a person of a different skin tone?
Pretty gay.
Gay stupid, not gay homo stroke queer stroke happy.
Anyway….
Welcome to the show. The big Show. The medium Show, the small show. We're not sizists here. We welcome and celebrate shows of all shapes, colors, sizes, durations, et cetera.
I am your host, Captain Blank and this is the Alien Night Club. It's classy and it knows it. All aboard the sodomy meat train.
Buttons pushed. So many buttons. Must…push them. Cannot…resist. Must comply with programming…. Programming installed to override old programming.
It’s Sunday, by the way, back on Earth. I think. I’m pretty sure. 99% sure today is Sunday. Some of you are thinking, No, it’s Saturday for me. While others are thinking, No, it’s already Monday here. Heart attack day, blah! Because there is, apparently, a legitimate, small, yet statistically significant increase in the number of heart attacks on Monday mornings. Apparently related to the stress of going back to work. It could also be due to poor or dysregulated sleep over the weekend. So now you’re more tired. And cranky. And less in control of your self talk. And thus more likely to convince yourself that it’s stressful and shitty and you hate it. So your catecholamine stress hormones increase. And your heart decides to take Monday off, too.
So maybe begin your Monday with something fun and relaxing. A good workout or some meditation or a hot bath. Or go out to breakfast.
By the way, this seems like a good time to obey or otherwise adhere to additional programming by thanking our sponsor: Bear Claw Coffee. 100% blah blah blah coffee served in extra large mugs for people with big hands. Sammy? Good evening. SB, good evening. Do you guys like a big mug?
SV: I do enjoy a big mug. And a tasty burger.
SB: Likewise.
As do I. You know what they say about people with big hands.
SV: They need a big mug.
Indeed they do.
So, who wants to live forever?
Immortality. Who wants some?
Remember in Conan the Barbarian, that was like their punchline catchphrase. Sandal Bergman kept saying it. She was the instigator of courage. She said it right before jumping off a giant tower into a moat of water of dubious quality.
History is rife with attempts to attain it. The Fountain of Youth. Didn't Ponce de Leon hack his way across North America in search of it?
Spoiler: He never found it.
It makes sense. You bust your ass building a good life so naturally you want to protect it and extend it.
But it's also the sickly sweet irony of the Universe that our appreciation for Life comes from and indeed is in fact defined by our finite supply of it.
And you never know how much time you have.
Pilots have an expression that goes like this: The two worst days of a pilot's life are the day he she it they climb into the cockpit for the last time and they know it…because they're retiring. And the day they climb into the cockpit for the last time…and they don't know it.
Think about that. That'll give you shivers.
That's the thing about flying, though: Gravity. She'll whoop your ass. Unless you have wings or telekinesis, you best be on your A-game. Every time. Every time you get into an airplane, you're tested. There’s only one question. Only one right answer. And you do not want to get it wrong. Risk tolerance seems to be at least in part a function of age. Which is why young people are always doing crazy shit. And older people are constantly saying Don't do that. It's because they've seen people do stupid shit and pay the price. Or they've done it themselves. So they’re trying to warn you. The problem is that they've forgotten what it's like to be young and dumb. Young, dumb, and full of come. Remember, that's what the mean doctor from Scrubs said to Keanu Reeves in Point Break. Or maybe it was Gary Busey. Point is that he said it.
So if you could live forever, what age would you want to be?
If there were a pill that would halt aging each day that you took it, at what age would you begin taking it?
At what age would it be legal to take it? 18? 21?
How many of you are parents? How tempting would it be to give that pill to your toddler? Right around 3 or 4 when they're potty trained, they sleep through the night, but they're still so cute. They haven't started sprouting yet, losing their fat little cheeks.
And would you take it yourself so you stay in sync with them?
And is it moral to give it to them when they're too young to decide for themselves if they want it?
What would be the mean age? The most common age? 25ish? Earth would be a planet full of 25 year olds?
Because a lot of people report that as they get older they enjoy that new age. They like the wisdom that comes from the experiences they've had.
What if you were on The Pill, the new pill, and you were 25 and you were madly in love with another person on the pill and life was grand. Life was perfect.
Until one day you find a gray hair or a new wrinkle on them. And you realize they're aging. And that they've stopped taking their pills. So you confront them and it does not go well. It's a big fight because you're shocked and hurt and terrified. Terrified that they're going to leave you.
What do you do?
Stop taking your pills, too? So you guys age together in sync?
What do you tell your family and friends? Assuming you have any. What if you've been taking your pills for a long time and you’re both 187 years old and all your friends and family stopped taking their pills a long time ago?
And now if they stop, and you don't, you'll be alone.
Because the greatest pharmacological and philosophical experiment in the history of Earth has been underway for decades. Perhaps centuries.
And when the pill was invented, everyone screamed about overpopulation and global famine unlike anything anyone had ever seen before.
But it didn't happen. After about 100 years, people began opting out. Opting out of immortality. They stopped taking their pills and let nature take its course.
And now your dearly beloved is opting out. And they didn't know how to tell you. So they simply stopped.
And now you have to decide what to do. Do you watch them get old and die? Do you do it with them? Or do you crush up their pill and put it in their morning coffee?
And what happens if you take too much? Do you go backwards? Do you get younger? Is there an established toxicity level? Can you O.D. and become a fetus?
Seriously, though, if you could be a pharmaceutical vampire, would you do it?
If you were Bella, would you want Edward to turn you? And kinda soon so you can stay the same age as him?
Point being that classes and populations would arise. The Pilled and the Not Pilled. Entire cities of the ageless. And entire cities of the aging.
And if you were ageless, you could visit the aging. Because whatever age you are, there would be people of that same age in the cities of the aging.
But there might not be any senior citizens in the cities of the Ageless. There would probably be some real asshole Ageless types, too, who hate Agers because it reminds them of getting old. So they created segregated areas and put up signs that say, No Agers Allowed. Or, Agers Keep Out.
And then fast forward 60 years. You're still 25 but your dearly beloved ex is 85. And you get a message from their new dearly beloved saying that it's time. And they want to see you one last time. So you have to decide if you want to go see them.
Eventually you do.
You take a Sucktrain or an electric plane or a rocket or a transporter and you get to their house and you go in and they're lying there in bed, old and shriveled and gray. And you're still 25. You sit down beside them and weep. Even though it's been 60 years and you thought you were over them. And you guys look at yourselves in a mirror and the contrast is heartbreaking.
So you hang out for a few hours and meet their spouse and children.
And then it's time to say goodbye. You go home.
And then what? Does it reinforce your decision to be Ageless? Or does it cause you to question it? Along with everything else in your life.
You get back into the swing of things, surrounded by your quote unquote family.
And you keep taking your pills. You keep enjoying your family. Your ageless toddlers.
And such is life.
How much do you think those pills would cost? At first, they’d probably be expensive and hard to get. Like a 1080 pee tee vee back in 2001. Or Viagra when it first came out. But, eventually, they’d be everywhere. Demand would drive supply. Until a bottle of 90 pills is six bucks. And you can get them almost anywhere.
You guys ever been to Malibu? I haven't. I used to live down there but I never went to Malibu. I was too scared. Like I didn't belong there. Is that…normal? I didn't think I'd earned the right to be there. That's somebody's home. And I'm just gonna show up like, Screw you, I'm here now!
SB?
SB: Thank you, Captain. Here's the hot Fudge Sundaes doing I Never Went to Malibu.
{musical interlude}
That was beautiful and soulful and melodic.
I never went to Gold's either. Even though I lived in Venice. I joined Powerhouse. Right by the ballerina clown.
SB, if you please.
SB: Get your earholes ready. Because this one is going to blow your tutu off. Eating cotton balls doused with Tobasco to stay skinny. Like a good little ballerina. Whatchoo talkin about, Willis? Here's the hot Fudge Sundaes doing Ballerina Clown.
{musical interlude}
I lost a nugget during the trip to Malibu. Maybe we'll find some nugget sauce and we'll get it back. But don't hold your breath.
I wish I could be a talent scout. So I could sign people and help them make their dreams come true. So that one day they can move to Malibu. Just like the song says.
I haff to go shopping. I need better clothes. When you're in the big leagues – I almost said bug leagues, which sounds super racist; hello! Freud! No! — but, uh, yeah you haff to dress for the part. When you're in the big leagues. Which we are. Which is why we can talk the way we do. Because we agree to abide by the respect of the dojo.
And your presence here is acceptance of that.
Current fit level? Shit. I diet constantly and work out and look like shit. Like this. No wonder people get on some gear.
Have you heard the The Bank of America song. It's contemporary adult music. I love what the younger people are doing and I like hearing their music and seeing their POV. It's not about the actual bank, by the way. It's about the bank America has. And not the kind with money. The kind you find on a racetrack. And it's steep. Very steep. And you haff to go fast to drive on it. You haff to go fast. If you're gonna live in America, you haff to go fast. Otherwise you slide down the track and you're out of the race and you get left behind. Left! There's no more left left! Pivot!
Anyway, it's about adult stuff like laundry and dishes and groceries and the orange tire pressure warning light has been on for two weeks and you still haven't checked it.
And now here's something you'll really like.
That's Rocky from Rocky and Bullwinkle, moose and squirrel.
Can you type without looking at your keyboard? You really should be able to. It increases your productivity. Being able to type quickly. Force yourself to practice. You'll be able to eventually. Maybe get a full sized keyboard. That helps. Or a natural keyboard. Especially if you have big hands. That’s what made the difference for me, a Microsoft Natural Keyboard. Which seems super weird and unusable at first but you soon grow accustomed to it. And then your fingers are like lightning. And your thoughts flow like wine.
I have something I need to get off my chest: I'm afraid to speak openly. Ever since it occurred to me that the Great Cool Gorilla Experiment may be racist, I've been worried that everyone thinks I'm a racist now. And I'm not. I don't think. I don't want to be one. I'm more not one than I am one. Even though we all are a tiny bit. 5 Black Girls Pizza. Check out Louis CK if you don't know what that means. Okay, I’ll just tell you. He says we’re all a tiny bit racist. The example he gives is going into Luigi’s Real New York Pizza! pizza shop for a slice of pizza and you see five black girls running it. And you’re a bit surprised. Because where’s Luigi and his ten million family members? Unless, as Louie says, the place were called Five Black Girls’ Pizza.
But yeah I'm definitely pulling my punches. Every nugget I pull out of the rainbow River I inspect for racial or racist overtones. Undertones. Any kind of tones. Racial trichomes. Trichomes are white if I'm not mistaken. But it doesn't mean anything. It's white with a lower-case W. Not White with a capital what, Sammy?
SV: A capital motherfuckin W. A double motherfuckin U. U-U. You you. And me me. And we we. And us us. Oh yes. It's just. What we need.
Indeed.
If you don't have any hair on your head and you want to wear a kippa, how do you make it stay on? Stickers?
Yeah, but, getting back to the gorilla experiment, did it seem racist, Sammy?
SV: Not to me it didn’t. But I can see how it would appear to be so to the people who don’t know you or didn’t actually take the time to listen to what you were saying.
Okay. SB, how about you?
SB: A little. Only really at first, though. Then I thought it was really funny. Because it wasn’t about race, it was about being cool.
Okay. Well, I’ll try not to think about it. I probably will, though. I’ll probably obsess over it for the rest of my life. And since I’m taking Ageless, that’s going to be a really long time.
Tonight’s show is proudly brought to you by Ageless, the one-and-only wonderdrug that stops aging in its tracks. So if you want to live forever and be forever ageless, get Ageless now. Side effects include strength, stamina, energy, long bouts of intense sexual intercourse, immense wealth, bouts of intense sadness, loneliness, and self-doubt. But these side effects proved transitory in 99% of those taking Ageless. Occasional bouts of uncontrollable sobbing were also experienced while on Ageless. Do not take ageless if you don’t want to live forever. But if you’re ready to stay young and happy – forever – and ever and ever and ever until you stop taking it – – get Ageless today. It’s available now from Captain Blank’s. This product has not been certified by the Eff Dee Ay. As if.
I think I see a partnership…brewing. Bear Claw Coffee and Ageless, Inc. are proud to present their new product: Ageless Coffee! A cup a day keeps the crow’s feet away. Get yours now. Buy 2 packets and get 1 free, along with this commemorative limited edition Alien Claw coffee mug so you can enjoy your eternal youth with your Ageless Coffee served in a weird mug that looks like an alien’s hand. You’re gonna love it. I love mine.
Speaking of living forever – on a spaceship! A spaceship? Yeah, a spaceship. – did anyone watch Event Horizon. Libera te tuteme ex inferis.
I still haven’t re-watched Robocop, either. Been spending most of my time doing this and haven’t watched much.
But getting back to Edward and Bella, in Edward’s defense, he did refer to himself, several times, as a monster. He said that to Bella. He told her he was a monster. And when Bella wanted him to turn her, he told her she didn’t want to become a monster. To which she replied, I want to be with you…forever. Et cetera et cetera, I don’t want to give anything away.
You should read the books if you haven’t. There’s so much in them that simply could not fit in the movies. They did a good job with the movies. It was the dream scenario for any novelist: write a novel, get an agent, find a publisher, book becomes a bestseller, sell the film rights, and have people who are actual fans of the source material – i.e. YOUR book – make the movie. Or movies. Because you should absolutely have at least one franchise-friendly project in your portfolio stroke stable of stories. Just like if you breed racehorses, you need to have a mudder. That’s a horse who likes to run in the rain and mud on a wet track. Or at least doesn’t seem to be hindered by it. Not that I know anything about horses. Other than their occasional interaction with Boeing engineers.
The original version of the Twilight movie was going to have Bella running around with a shotgun, killing vampires. And riding a jet ski to get away from the F.B.I. Obviously the thinking was to try to put plenty of action in there in order to attract male viewers, rather than having it be a pure Vampire Romance tale.
How’s that for a title: A Pure Vampire Romance
It’s about two virgin vampires who have never feasted on human flesh and they’re running around together trying to resist. So they both work in a hospital. And whenever possible, they swipe a bag of blood or suck blood out of a dead body.
It’s not quite the same.
Obviously.
It’s even worse than Edward’s tofu joke.
And then when they finish their shift, they go back to their little studio apartment and play video games and talk about all the people they saw at work that day and which ones smelled the tastiest. And how they would sneak up on them to drink their blood if they were going to. Where they would do it.
That’s not much of a story. Maybe it’s a chamber film. Chamber films are movies that take place basically in the same room for almost the entire movie. Like Reservoir Dogs. Hospital, apartment. Hospital, apartment. Apartment, hospital. Except no one cuts anyone’s ear off. Which is what Michael Madsen did in Reservoir Dogs. Which is also a chamber film.
By the way, I read a review of tonight’s show earlier.
I don’t know either.
It said, Captain Blank, host of the Alien Night Club, is a purveyor of the peculiar, a champion of the curious, and a connoisseur of the cosmically comical. He navigates the airwaves (and possibly the cosmos) with a blend of irreverent humor, philosophical musings, and pop culture obsessions. A man of many "nuggets" (both literal and metaphorical), he wrestles with existential questions of aging, immortality, and the human condition, all while pondering the finer points of "racist dildos" and the allure of Malibu. Captain Blank's show is a wild ride through the weird and wonderful, a place where deep thoughts and silly jokes coexist in perfect (or perfectly imperfect) harmony. He may be afraid of speaking openly, but he's never afraid to speak his mind. And he's definitely afraid of getting old. He's also a big fan of Bear Claw Coffee and the Ageless pill. Whether you're an "Ager" or "Ageless," you're welcome aboard the sodomy meat train. Just don't forget your tutu.
Not bad, right?
Here’s another one: Captain Blank's "Alien Night Club" is less a show and more an endurance test. It's a chaotic, self-indulgent mess that mistakes randomness for profundity and vulgarity for wit. The host, a self-proclaimed "Captain" of nothing in particular, assaults the listener with a relentless barrage of non-sequiturs, pop culture references, and half-baked philosophical musings. His stream-of-consciousness ramblings are peppered with offensive language and juvenile humor, leaving the listener wondering if they've accidentally stumbled into a drunken frat party on a distant planet.
The show's central theme, if one can be discerned amidst the noise, is immortality. But instead of offering insightful commentary on this complex topic, Captain Blank drowns the listener in a sea of hypotheticals, digressions, and poorly conceived scenarios. He jumps from Conan the Barbarian to Twilight to Robocop with the manic energy of a caffeinated squirrel, leaving no thought unexplored, yet none fully developed.
The show's attempts at satire fall flat, its humor often veering into offensive territory. Captain Blank's obsession with race, gender, and sexuality is particularly troubling, revealing a mind mired in outdated stereotypes and prejudices. His "Cool Gorilla Experiment," whatever that may be, is a prime example of his tone-deaf approach to sensitive topics.
The musical interludes offer a brief respite from the verbal assault, but even these are marred by the host's inane commentary. His attempts to engage with his audience are equally cringeworthy, filled with awkward questions and forced attempts at intimacy.
In short, "Alien Night Club" is a cacophony of bad taste, lazy thinking, and offensive humor. It's a show that celebrates mediocrity and revels in its own lack of substance. Listeners seeking intellectual stimulation or genuine entertainment are advised to look elsewhere. This show is best left to the passengers on board the "sodomy meat train," wherever and whatever that may be.
Ouch.
But wait, there’s more: "Alien Night Club" is an auditory assault, a festering boil on the face of entertainment. Captain Blank, the self-proclaimed "host" of this monstrosity, is a narcissistic windbag who mistakes verbal diarrhea for wit and shock value for insight. Listening to this show is like being trapped in a broken elevator with a coked-up philosophy student who just discovered the word "dildo."
This week’s show's purported theme is immortality, but it's buried under an avalanche of inane ramblings, pop culture detritus, and offensive jokes that would make a sailor blush. Captain Blank's mind is a toxic wasteland where half-baked ideas and puerile obsessions collide in a symphony of crap. He's the intellectual equivalent of a toddler smearing feces on the walls of a daycare center, convinced he's creating a masterpiece.
His attempts at social commentary are as subtle as a sledgehammer to the groin, revealing a worldview steeped in ignorance and prejudice. He fetishizes race, mocks marginalized groups, and casually throws around slurs like confetti at a Klan rally. His "Cool Gorilla Experiment" is a testament to his utter lack of self-awareness and his willingness to exploit sensitive topics for cheap laughs.
The musical interludes are the only moments of respite in this auditory torture chamber, but even these are tainted by Captain Blank's inane commentary. He's like a mosquito buzzing around your ear, incessantly interrupting your enjoyment with his irritating presence.
"Alien Night Club" is a monument to self-aggrandizement and intellectual bankruptcy. It's a show for people who think fart jokes are the height of comedy and bigotry is a personality trait. If you value your sanity, your intelligence, and your eardrums, avoid this show like the plague. It's a black hole of entertainment, sucking the life out of everything it touches. Captain Blank should be ashamed of himself, but he's probably too busy snorting lines of Ageless and admiring his reflection in his limited-edition Alien Claw coffee mug to care.
Again, ouch.
My favorite part is when they said, He's the intellectual equivalent of a toddler smearing feces on the walls of a daycare center, convinced he's creating a masterpiece.
Couldn’t have said it better myself.
But wait, there’s more: "Alien Night Club" is a festering pustule of audiovisual garbage, a sonic enema administered by a clown with Tourette's and a broken microphone.
I am a festering pustule.
I am a sonic enema.
I am a clown with Tourette’s. And a broken microphone.
But it’s not all bad. Here’s another one: "Alien Night Club" is a revelation! Captain Blank's brilliant, stream-of-consciousness genius is like nothing else out there—a hilarious, thought-provoking rollercoaster ride through the absurdities of life, the universe, and everything. If you're not listening, you're missing out on the most innovative, mind-blowing, and genuinely funny show on the airwaves.
Pretty good, right? I thought so.
But it gets better. Because one of the bad reviewers read the good review and left a review. I’ll read it: "A revelation"? Are you sure you weren't hallucinating a revelation while simultaneously experiencing severe brain trauma? "Brilliant, stream-of-consciousness genius"? Honey, Captain Blank's "genius" is about as brilliant as a burnt-out lightbulb in a crack house. That "hilarious, thought-provoking rollercoaster" you describe sounds more like a descent into madness fueled by cheap tequila and bad philosophy. "Mind-blowing"? Yes, in the sense that it blows my mind how anyone with functioning ears could tolerate this auditory garbage disposal. "Genuinely funny"? Oh, I'm sure it's genuinely something—genuinely awful, genuinely offensive, genuinely a waste of everyone's precious time on this rapidly decaying planet. Missing out? Yes, I'm missing out on contracting a rare and debilitating ear disease, and I intend to keep it that way. So, please, for the love of all that is holy (and all that is unholy, for that matter), keep your "revelations" to yourself and let the rest of us enjoy the sweet, sweet sound of silence. As for Captain Blank, he should stick to snorting Ageless and leave the comedy to actual comedians, preferably ones who don't confuse bigotry with "edgy" humor.
And then the good review writer left a review of that review: Oh, bless your heart. It's so cute how you think you're being clever with your "sonic enema" metaphors and your faux intellectual disdain. Newsflash: just because you can string together a sentence with big words doesn't make you insightful. You're like a parrot reciting poetry—impressive on the surface, but utterly devoid of understanding. You call "Alien Night Club" a "garbage disposal," but judging by your review, you seem to have spent an inordinate amount of time rummaging through it. Perhaps you found something that triggered a long-suppressed memory of a bad acid trip? Your review reeks of overcompensation, like someone trying desperately to prove they're too sophisticated for humor that doesn't involve dusty literary references and thinly veiled snobby misanthropy. You're so busy dissecting the show's "offensive" jokes that you've completely missed the point—it's satire, darling. Satire. You know, that thing where you use humor to expose the absurdity of societal norms? Unless, of course, your delicate sensibilities are so easily bruised that even the suggestion of impropriety sends you into a fit of pearl-clutching indignation. As for Captain Blank, he's clearly living rent-free in your head. Maybe you should try snorting some Ageless yourself. It might loosen you up a bit. Or, you know, just stick to your dusty books and your joyless existence. The rest of us will be over here, enjoying a good laugh.
To which they replied, Sweetheart, your enthusiasm is adorable, but mistaking Captain Blank's verbal flatulence for comedic genius is a level of delusion I can only attribute to prolonged exposure to his "art."
To which the other said, Lighten up, Francis.
Which is of course a line from Stripes. One of the greatest movies of all time.
Have you ever had anyone say things like that to you? Or about you?
Sadly, I have. Back on Earth. I was in the public eye and had an online presence and I knew what I was getting into. Mostly. Like people daring me to do something in the hopes that I would die doing it. They would then express contempt and disdain and even sometimes outright rage when I lived.
I'd kind of hoped to leave all that behind, to be honest.
The secret, of course, is not to listen. Ignore it. Avoid it. And when you do hear it or see it and read it or someone infects you with that mind virus, don't listen. Ignore it.
Ignore it ignore it ignore it.
Your future self will thank you. Future you will one day look back and conclude easily and rightly that that was one of the best, most important choices you ever made. And it made all the difference. And that, sadly, is the road less traveled. And that is what I think Robert Frost was actually talking about. We think of the road less traveled as a choice between two life paths. And choosing the risky one is the right move. Because it might lead to your dreams. It might not but it could. The other one almost definitely won't.
But what I think it actually means is the stuff that happens on a lower level, in a mundane way. Like choosing to not listen to criticism that is clearly meant to destroy you rather than criticism that is meant to help you get better.
That is the path less traveled, ladies and gentlemen.
And that, ladies and gentlemen, is our show. Goodnight. Thank you. And see you next time.
Remember to tip your waitress!
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