Alien Night Club - Show 42?
Alien Night Club <the transcripts>
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Show 42! 42? Sure, why not? 42. Just like the number of toothpicks on the floor that badass Rainman counted perfectly.
Show notes:
No, we’re not messing around today. Let’s go. These are good.
Activists, gay people, or straight people, depending on how you want to look at it, embarrassed retards, and fiction for dummies.
I’m pretty sure that’s everything on the list. I sure hope so.
And if any or all of those topics offends you, let’s take a moment to remember what Thomas Payne said: I can’t fucking remember.
No, he didn’t say that.
That’s me saying that. Because I can’t remember the quote. It was something about whomever seeks to avoid offending someone, i.e. causing offense, cannot tell the truth.
Now, I have pretty much no idea who Thomas Payne was. He was a very smart man who lived back in the day. A famous American political thinker type. He may have signed the declaration of independence, too; I’m not sure. There’s a buttload of signatures on that thing. Those guys were nuts. They were fuckin hardcore. And yeah it was hard keepin it so hardcore. Thank you Brad & Stef. Except that he should’ve lived. She should have fired that douchebag opportunist agent, gone home, and found him in the garage and STOPPED him. And they should’ve been together. That’s the true birthing of the star. The light they create together. 2 heads are better than 1. And Marilyn Monroe says all breathy and whispery: That’s right, 2 penis heads in me. At the same time. Jackie was so pissed, she had me and John killed. It was worth it, though. John and I made love in every room of the White House and every major hotel in New York, Los Angeles, Miami, London, and Paris. It was the best sex I’ve ever had. It was worth dying for. Besides, now we’ll both be legends forever.
Moving on: activists.
If you are an activist or a social justice warrior or a person who fucking hates labels and is just completely fucking fed up with the bullshit of the totally fuckin bullshit racist backwards and fuck totally outmoded status quo, I kindly ask that you consider this: the next time you find yourself enraged over one more fucked up things you just heard about that happened or is happening or is going to happen and you wanna fuckin scream because it’s so stupid and wrong, here’s a thought exercise for you. An Eisteinian thought exercise. Einstein loved to sit at his desk for hours pondering physics. He dreamt up these things he called thought exercises. It’s where you create a scenario or analyze a known one. You gather as much data as you can, you get as much info as possible, you account for all the variables, and then you make little changes or you say What if? And then you see how it plays out. So, the next time you wanna claw someone’s fucking eyes out, rip their genitals off and shove them in their mouth, do the following thought exercise: spend 5 to 10 minutes listing all the reasons the people who are HAPPY about this thing you’re angry about are happy. If you’re an activist, be an activist for them. If you’re an SJW, fight for them. Just for 10 minutes maybe. And I don’t mean to simply make a list and then use that list as further evidence why these people need to just fucking die already. Not by your or anyone else’s hand. But maybe just Mother’s Nature’s.
Instead, look at the issue from their point of view. What were they taught when they were little? Where did they grow up? What type of people live in that area? Are they that type of person? Try to find something GOOD about that person or those people. Because if you were standing in line at Disneyland, waiting to ride Pirates or Small World and you started chatting with these cool people in line every time the line snaked around and you guys were standing together, you’d totally like them. You’re both wearing Tron tee shirts or Mickey Mouse or Minnie Mouse or Tinkerbell or Marvel paraphernalia. You’re in line for the same ride at the same time on the same day of the same week of the same month of the same year at the same time. Together. You guys independently planned your trips and your thought process was so similar, it brought you to the same place at that moment. That’s pretty amazing. You guys could wind up being best friends. If you simply focus on that and not on the fact that they’re from L.A. or Fargo or New York or someplace super conservative.
The point is, see them as your friend who likes what you like. So it won’t matter what their political leanings are. Don’t talk about that. Don’t even talk about it. You’re friends. That’s what matters.
Now ask yourself why they believe what they believe.
Here's a song:
Everybody knows
That everybody goes
Through the same pain sometimes.
But not everybody knows
How it always goes
Because this pain is mine.
And if you wanna go
Where everybody knows
Sometimes that pain is fine
Then all you have to know
Is everybody goes
Through the same pain sometimes
Did you guys hear that, in California, sex massages are becoming legal? They’re going to be totally legal. It’s full-on prostitution going legit. A massage is to make you relax, right? Well, a sex massage is the same thing. Except that the client is being brought to orgasm in furtherance of the desired goal of relaxation. Which is what you’re paying for when you go in there. So that means coming during your massage. It’s been studied with multiple studies, peer reviewed no less, and has been proven to be beneficial for mental and physical health. So now instead of having to go to a club or use a dating site, you can simply go to your nearest clinic and your massage therapist will make you come your brains out. Everything is on the table. It’s your call when you go in there. If you want them to use a dildo on your orifice or orifices, that’s what they’ll do. If you want that big hard cock inside you, that’s what they’ll do. And if you have a dick and want to get caressed or blown or ridden, that’s what they’ll do.
The logic behind the law is that you wouldn’t go to a dentist and have them not be able to put their fingers in your mouth. It would be like them sticking their dick in your mouth. Or pussy. It might be fun but it’s not gonna fix your tooth.
I kinda forgot the point about the developmentally challenged folks. It was something about how even they are embarrassed when looking at some of the stupid crap going on today.
As for fiction for dummies, that is a category of fiction. It’s not talked about so much as it’s understood by people in the publishing industry. Certain books fall into that category. They tend to be either nonsellers or best sellers. Mostly nonsellers. But occasionally one of them breaks out and everyone goes nuts over it. And then when I read it, I’m confused. I’m usually somewhat embarrassed by how bad it is. And then I’m afraid to say that I didn’t like it. Because everyone else does. And I don’t want to piss in their Cheerio’s. Let people like what they like. Move on. Focus on liking what you like. Not on talking shit about the things you don’t like.
Also, 2 more show notes nuggets:
One, there’s a new book out; it’s…
I almost said it’s raping the bestseller charts. But that’s horrible. Really super horrible. So I’m not gonna say that. Instead, let’s say it’s racing up the bestseller charts. And when you hear the title, you’ll know why.
It’s called Pull My Hair and Choke Me.
Everyone hates it.
Except that most people love it.
All the ones I want to be friends with fucking love it. And the movie? Shit. Forget about it. We’ve never seen anything quite like this before. Somehow motherfucking fatherhumping somehow, they figured out a way to make porn highbrow. Not an easy feat. Not for lack of effort, either. There’s centuries of really good erotic writing. But nothing quite like this.
So, that’s the first thing. Pull My Hair and Choke Me. People are actually reading it aloud in random public places. There’s tons of videos online, all over social media, showing a video of a person randomly standing up and saying, Hey, you guys! Everyone! Stop for a second! Everyone! Listen!
And it’s like a Panera Bread. And everyone stops. And the person goes to the middle of the restaurant and begins reading. No introduction or apology for interrupting their bowl of tomato soup and half a sandwich that cost 13.50. They just start reading. And everyone listens at first. Because everyone is sufficiently curious as to give it a few seconds, if only to determine whether or not somebody needs to call the cops. But once the reading begins and they hear the words, they keep listening. And it’s a relatively short passage. It only goes for about 1 minute, depending on how fast they read.
And the crazy part is that it’s all types of people doing this. Every age, every ethnicity, male and female. Including, of course, those who don’t fit into any of those groups yet are still human beings.
Or humyn beings if you prefer. Spelled H-U-M-Y-N. Because people are angry that human has the word man in it. So they want to change the ending. Even though I saw a video showing the etymology of human, man, and woman, and its origin had nothing to do with sex. So, I dunno. That’s just one video I watched. I’m not an expert.
I want everyone to feel included. Even if that means changing the language of the Planet Earth in order to do so. And it’s the vast, vast majority agreeing to a change for a very small percentage of people in order to make them feel safe and welcome and wanted and loved.
But if I were a member of that group or if I ever am a member of such a tiny group, I would really, really like it if people around me and around the world made an effort to go out of their way to tell me that it’s safe and that I’m welcome and wanted and loved. That would mean the world to me. It would break my heart and I’m fairly certain I would cry. A lot. Because I’ve often felt excluded and unsafe and unwelcome and unwanted. Most of my life, in fact. And I’m not saying I’m unique or that you should feel sorry for me. Don’t bother. There’s too much other shit going on. I’m just saying that that’s my reality and it always has been. So if everyone went out of their way to tell me that I don’t need to feel that way and that I should in fact stop feeling that way, immediately, that would be a life-changing experience. As it would be for everyone who feels marginalized.
So if I ever find myself in such a group, oh wait: I already am. Straight white guy.
Fuckin everyone hates us.
Because of course we should be held liable for all the fucked up shit that happened in the past.
Speaking of the past, I think the term and the notion of cultural appropriation is racist.
Now, before you cheer, hear me out. Because it’s not what you think it is. And you’re not gonna like it. You’re gonna hate the straight White guy even more.
You fucking hypocrites.
So here we go.
Okay, Doctor Jones, hold on to your potato.
Cultural appropriation is fucking racist.
On the part of the person declaring something as such. And here’s why.
Declaring that something is cultural appropriation is telling someone they can’t do something…
…because of their race.
Even though race is the wrong word. We’re all part of the human RACE. We’re not a bunch of separate entities. Unless you want to call us all a species made up of fuckloads of distinct races.
But that strikes me as shockingly and blatantly divisive and harmful.
Saying we’re all part of the human race seems like a more cohesive, cooperative thing to do. And much more fun, too. It’s better when we’re all friends and we travel around the world on airplanes and we go to each other’s countries and say hello and look at all the cool stuff and eat lots of yummy food and make some acquaintances and maybe even some friends.
Let’s not even speak of the opposite of all that.
Point being — AHHHHH!!!! — what happened on December 7th, 1941?
Raise your hand if you know. Or say it out loud. Or think it to yourself.
For anyone who doesn’t know, I will tell you.
And by the way, if you are over the age of 10 to 12 and you don’t know, that is a travesty. I can understand not telling kids younger than 10 to 12. But everyone over that should know what it is. And for those millions of you who don’t, I’m sorry. I’m sorry you grew up in an area that maybe wasn’t so great and you went to a school that probably also wasn’t so great and they never taught you about Pearl Harbor. And you may have seen the films but you may still not really know the full story. But you should because it’s crazy.
And once I tell you why this is important, you’re going to shit yourself.
December 7th, 1941 was the day Japan attacked the United States as an act of war. During World War 2. Which was mostly happening in Europe as douchebag Hitler tried to take over the whole continent. Or as much as he could get. The Japanese thought the Germans were going to win so they decided it would be fun to expand their territory, too. And they were tired of getting kicked around by other countries in their region such as China. So they put a bunch of airplanes on some boats and sailed all the way across the Pacific Ocean, which is really far and took a couple of weeks to do. Until finally they were close enough to Hawaii that the planes could take off from the boats, fly to Hawaii, and bomb the shit out of it.
And that’s what they did.
They attacked Pearl Harbor, a little town in Hawaii. And the reason they chose that town was because there were a whole bunch of U.S. Navy ships there. And if you can destroy your enemy’s ships, you have a good chance of winning.
And all this happened early on Sunday morning.
All of a sudden, fighter planes were buzzing all over the island, dropping bombs, blowing shit up, and doing strafing runs where they shot all kinds of stuff with these really big, powerful machine guns on their airplane. Shooting up buildings and cars and people. Lots of lots of people.
That attack was the moment the United States was dragged into the war.
It is said that Winston Churchill, who was the Prime Minister of England at the time, the guy in charge, smiled when he heard about Pearl Harbor because he knew in that moment that the war was won. He and his country and their allies would defeat douchebag Hitler and the countries aligned with him. And the reason was that the United States had a small but rapidly-growing economy. And that they would be able to build more airplanes, more tanks, more trucks, more ships, than anyone else. And that they would be able to help the good guys win the war.
And during that process, the Americans fought the Japanese in the Pacific Ocean as well as the Axis powers in Europe and northern Africa, killing Nazis and the people who supported them. It took several years and tons of work and millions of people fighting and dying. And most of Europe was destroyed. Almost all the cities were bombed by heavy bombers flying overhead. It was insane.
The bombers needed protection from smaller fighter planes sent to shoot them down before they could drop their bombs. So the United States began building its own fighter planes. There were several different versions or types of these fighters but the most well known is the P-51 Mustang. It was silver and sexy and sleek and fast. If you’ve never seen one, google it. They’re gorgeous. A little tricky to fly, but very maneuverable and capable. A lot of pilots actually got killed during training. They fucked up and did something they shouldn’t have and the P-51 is a rather unforgiving airplane. If you fly it by the book, it’s fine. It’s great. But if you get lazy or don’t know what you’re doing, it can kill you.
That being said, the U.S. Army Air Corps desperately needed pilots. Because everyone knew air power was what was going to win the war. And the Americans were building airplanes so fast that a new one was rolling off the assembly line every hour. 24 hours a day. So the Americans overwhelmed the enemy not only with killer technology but also shitloads of it. Superior numbers. They built a ton of airplanes.
So they needed a ton of pilots.
And up to that point, most of the pilots were White guys. Some women, not very many. No Black guys to speak of. No one else. Just the honky vatos.
I don’t even know what vatos means. But I grew up in California, before I was abducted, and that’s a word I’ve always heard and perceived to be a not-nice word in Spanish.
Anyway, they needed pilots. And a bunch of Black guys were volunteering to join the squadrons, even though a lot of the men who had already joined those squadrons hadn’t come home and never would.
So the U.S. Army starts having a discussion as to whether or not the Negro is smart enough to fly a plane.
They actually discussed this. They studied it. They got a bunch of scientists together to talk about I.Q. and whether or not a Black guy could learn to fly a plane.
They actually did that. That is an historical fact. Not a historical fact. An historical fact. Historical begins with an H, which is a consonant sound that’s hard to pronounce. So we say an instead of a. We pronounce the N as a nice lead-in to the H on historical.
And remember: aircraft is already plural. There’s no S on the end. It’s not aircrafts. It’s aircraft.
Anyway, eventually common fucking sense won out and Black guys were allowed to fly.
And guess what?
They were fucking awesome at it.
And a bunch of these guys got to fly the P-51 Mustang. Their job was to escort B-17 bombers on their bombing runs into German airspace and to fight off the German fighter planes so the bombers could complete their mission of dropping their bombs on German factories and government buildings and everything else because that’s how everyone did it back then. Everyone believed that killing as many civilians as possible by bombing cities was a good way to make everyone so fucking miserable that they would surrender.
Point being — AHHHHH!!! — that there was a group of these kick-ass Black pilots who painted the tails of their airplanes red. Because they wanted everyone to know who they were.
So they painted the tails of their airplanes red and called themselves the Red Tails.
The German pilots got into dogfights with them and radioed each other and were like, Dude, holy fuck, we’re being shot at by Negroes heil Hitler! And then the other German pilot would radio back and say, Yeah, holy fuck the Americans are using Negroes for pilots, what the hell is going on OH, I’m hit! And he would spiral down to the earth, crash, and die, shouting Heil Hitler the whole fucking way down.
Actually probably not.
Most of the German pilots were not fans of Hitler or haters of Jews who supported the holocaust. Most of them were just guys who wanted to fly. And then the war came and they did their job to the best of their ability. Probably some of them thought Hitler had some good points and they liked his economic policies and the notion of making Germany great again. But to determine just how many of them, if any, were full-blown Nazis would take more research. I have no idea.
Anyway, the Black pilots were so good that more bombers survived their missions and landed safely back in America. So the Black pilots developed a reputation. So much so that bomber crews began requesting that the Black pilots escort them on their mission or they weren’t going to go.
They basically threatened to disobey direct orders unless they were escorted by the Red Tails.
The Red Tails were THAT good.
The Black pilots were THAT good. They were heroes. And everyone knew it. Books have been written about them. Movies have been made about them.
Now, back to cultural appropriation.
If a White guy has long, braided hair and people tell him he’s not allowed to have his hair braided like that because it’s cultural appropriation, they’re telling him that he’s not allowed to do something.
Because of his race.
Because he’s White.
Or, more accurately and because he has braids, because he’s NOT Black.
Telling a White guy he’s not allowed to braid his hair because he’s not Black is exactly the fucking same as telling a Black guy he can’t fly an airplane because he’s not White.
If you tell a Black person they’re not allowed to do something because they’re Black, like fly a plane and serve their country or use a particular restroom or drinking fountain or eat in a certain restaurant, that’s racist as fuck. And we all know it.
But telling a White guy with braids that he’s not allowed to have braids because he’s White — not Black — is okay?
And that, actually, he’s the racist. Because of his braids.
Black guy can’t fly, bad.
White guy can’t braid, good.
What the fuck?
It’s my fucking hair. If I want to braid it, that’s my choice. Not yours.
What do we tell women? My body, my baby.
What do we tell children? Don’t let anyone touch you in your peepee.
We give them agency, sovereignty, over their body. They are in control.
But if a man has braids AND is White, he’s NOT allowed to have control — agency — over his own body? His hair.
What if it’s a White woman with braids?
What if she’s sexually assaulted?
She has no agency over her hair but she does over the rest of her body?
Do you see how stupid that is?
That’s why cultural appropriation declarers are the actual racists. They’re telling someone of a certain ethnicity — a certain RACE! — that they are not allowed to do something. And the reason they’re not allowed to do it is because of their race.
That. Is. The. Very. Fucking. Definition. Of racism.
Period.
Period.
Full stop.
So have you read Pull My Hair and Choke Me yet?
No, I was going to but I heard it’s about a woman with braids.
What’s wrong with that? Why can’t she have braids?
Because. She’s White.
Oh. Yeah.
Yeah. So, totes not gonna read it. I’m thinking of starting a boycott campaign actually.
Oh really? Do it. Start an online petition. I’ll totally circulate it.
Okay! Should we even get a bunch of people together in like Times Square and have a book burning?
Totally!
Um, gee, I thought book burning was bad and against freedom of speech and freedom of expression. Wait, isn’t braiding your hair a form of expression? In which case people of any ethnicity within our species ought to be able to do that if they so choose?
No, motherfucker! It’s not the same! They’re stealing! Just like you racist White imperialist fucks stole everything else throughout history, including the Native Americans’ land!
Wait, didn’t the American Indians — that’s what the Navajo call themselves — believe that no one can own land, so they therefore did not own it themselves? Which means the White people showed up in droves and just started living there.
No, motherfucker! They took it! They stole it! You White fucks stole everything. Now you’re trying to steal our history, too!
I might be getting bored with this. They’re just braids.
To quote Cheryl Crow, a propos of nothing, do people eat elephants?
You know that expression How do you eat an elephant?
Answer: one bite at a time.
The point is not the actual literal killing, butchering, and eating of an elephant. The point is it is a metaphor for a solution to a seemingly overwhelming problem. The solution is to do one little step at a time.
However, did African or Indian people who live where elephants live historically eat elephants?
What do they taste like? I've seen African tribesmen hunt and kill a giraffe for food. So why not an elephant? Assuming you can bring it down.
By the way, if you haven't read George Orwell's story The Shooting of an Elephant, it's really good.
Also, more show notes. One, I wrote a joke today. Two, it’s a stupid joke. It’s bad. It’s just plain bad. And I mean bad bad. Not good bad. Not bad but in a good way, like when a joke is really dark or twisted or whatever but that’s what makes it good.
Like, pretend for a moment that somehow I was the one up on stage at the Oscars instead of Chris Rock and it was me who had made that alopecia joke about Jada and Will Smith had come up on stage and slapped me.
After Chris got slapped, he was interviewed by police officers. In other words, the cops came. Another man had just hit him in the face. In front of witnesses. A fucking ton of witnesses. And they asked Chris if he wanted to press charges. Criminal charges. Such that the cops would have gone and immediately arrested Will Smith. They would have put handcuffs on him and taken him away in a fucking police car. Could you imagine if Chris hadn’t reacted the way he did?
Chris kept his cool.
I don’t know how he did it. I think he, too, was just so fucking shocked that it didn’t seem real. Even to him. So he just stood there. And then he made a joke about it.
Now….
Imagine if Chris had demanded that Will Smith be arrested on the spot for assault and battery or just battery or both; I don’t know; I don’t know what the specifics of those charges are; to the best of my knowledge, assault is saying you’re going to physically assault someone and then actually doing it is battery; so if you don’t say anything, you just beat the fuck out of somebody, that’s battery; but I don’t know for certain; I seem to recall a cop telling me that when I was younger but I’m not totally sure.
Or what if Chris had waited until later to decide he wanted to press charges and then the cops would have gone and found Will at whatever party he was at or they would have gone to his house later. What would that have been like? They roll up to the gate and demand Will come out? That he walk out and surrender like a man after he did what he did and everyone saw it. If I were the cop, I’d be like, Dude, it’s not that big a deal. It was romantic, you protecting your lady. But you got a little too deep into the Williams’ mindset and you played it out in real life. Which you are not supposed to do. It’s the same thing when kids play video games and then go shoot up a school. Which you are not supposed to do. We condemn the playing of video games and then we cite mass murder as the evidence for why they’re bad. But we give an Oscar — a fucking Academy Award fucking copyright trademark symbols — we give the highest award on Earth to a man who hit another man in the face on live TV and we all saw it. We let him sit there and the show goes on. And later he wins the award for Best Actor. Which we all know is the ultimate prize on Planet Earth. It is not a Nobel or a Pullitzer or a Tony or a Grammy or a Golden Globe. And most painful of all, it’s not a Soapy.
It’s Best Actor. That person is the king of the world. Not the President. Not POTUS.
And yet we gave that award, the highest that we have yet invented, to a man who was suffering the same delusions that cause mass murder. It was a person identifying too closely with a fictitious, bullshit, made-up situation. And they decide to reenact it in real life.
After it happened, Chris played it off. And the show went on. And Denzel made a fantastic comment about it.
Personally, I think in a moment like that, that person needs people to stay close. Not to retreat and push them away.
If your 8th grader punches another kid in the face and gets expelled, do you kick them out of the house and disown them? No. You talk with them and work with them and LOVE them. You help them see that what they did was wrong. But you don’t punish them by suddenly withholding your love. That’s fucked up. That’s conditional love. Not unconditional. Love is supposed to be unconditional. And the Bible says Love Thy Neighbor. Whether or not you’ve read or believe or care about that book or what’s in it, personally I still think that that’s good advice. Because we all agree that love is the way. Not fighting. Make what not what? Make love, not war.
The point is that a lot of Will’s business associates chose to do just that. They chose to withhold their love. They cut ties with him. Canceled deals with him. Shelved his projects. Turned their backs on him. As a means of punishment.
Which is wrong.
Understandable.
But wrong.
And here’s why: they were more concerned about their reputations than they were about Will. Their reputation would’ve been fine. Will is a human being. If I were a CEO of a company that was doing business with Will and he and I knew each other and were even sort of friends, I like to think I would call him and have him meet me for lunch or come over to my house to hang out and talk. Rather than just firing him. Dumping him. Canceling him. Because that’s what most companies did. And then I’d explain that we’re not dumping him. And I’d tell him that I think he got too deep into that role and played it out on live television for the world to see. And it’s understandable. I can see how that could happen. I get it completely. All that money. All that attention. All that pressure to be a movie star and to act and to be in front of a camera pretending to be someone else as realistically as possible. Hello! Of course he got delusional. That might have happened to me, too. It’s called Method Acting. You live in that reality while you’re shooting. And you’re so deeply into it that it messes with your head. It’s the ultimate cosplay. And I can see how it would make you nuts. But it’s okay. It was a weird thing and it happened. But it’s over now. And it’s not that big of a deal. It’s not like Will shot Chris.
Imagine if Will shot him. And he died. Right there on the stage in front of everyone. And then Denzel or whomever was closest tackled Will and took the gun away from him and held him down until the police came in and cuffed him.
Or imagine he had still only slapped Chris but instead of Chris making a joke about it, Chris had fallen down and hit his head and cracked his head open and started having a grand mal seizure on live TV in front of everyone. And he died.
We would ALL — fucking all of us — would want to see Will smith punished. Hard. Like life in prison. That kind of hard.
And now, ladies and gentlemen, we have a song for you. It’s about things that are hard. Like life lessons, diamonds, and dicks. SB, take it away.
SB: Thanks, Cap. You took the words right out of the song and right out of my mouth. Here now again, back to bless us with their latest hit song, please welcome the hardest working band in the intergalactic region, The Hot Fudge Sundaes singing Diamonds and Dicks. Take it away!
{musical interlude}
Thank you thank you thank you, Sundaes.
Whole
Lee.
Fuck.
That was a song. About things that are hard. Like diamonds and dicks. Life lessons, too. But also diamonds and dicks.
And now, ladies and gentlemen and other sentient lifeforms, friends one and all I do hope, we here at the Alien Night Club would like to present to you an award. It’s a very special award. Very special. It’s for Best Audience. Which you guys most definitely are. You guys put up with all this. And you keep comin back for more. It’s quite astonishing, really. Therefore, I am proud to announce that the winner of the Best Audience award is dot dot dot, you guys. Congratulations.
And to commemorate the award, you’ll each be receiving a special diamond dick. Which is to say a dick encrusted with diamonds. It’s not a real dick, of course. It’s a conflict mineral-free, upcycled aluminum alloy dick. Encrusted with diamonds. And to get yours, all you need to do is pay for shipping. Which could be very low or very high depending on where you live.
You will also receive a commemorative jacket exactly like the one I’m wearing right now. It’s black and shiny and not made from animals or oil yet it still breathes well so you don’t feel all warm and moist each time you take it off, which is what happens with regular fake leather jackets that are made from polyvinyl chloride AKA plastic. From oil. Petroleum. Fossil fuels. There’s no way we can get off fossil fuels, by the way. Ever. We probably can eventually for transport and energy production. But so many things in our lives are made from or with plastic that there’s no way modern life can continue if we don’t have them. We all want a clean environment but no one's willing to give up their phone and computer to do it. Not everything can be made out of plants and glass.
Plants and glass, plants and glass, not everything is made of plants and glass.
Plants and glass, plants and glass, Adam Sandler should sing a song about plants and glass.
By the way, Listenin to the Radio is one of my favorite songs of all time. I’d even take a Runaround Sue. Oh yeah. Alright. Little music note to let you know this is the end of the singing.
The point is that this cool jacket has a diamond encrusted dick inside it. I’d show it to you but it’s against the rules. I can only show it to someone who is also wearing the jacket. And by the way, do not even think about stealing the jacket from someone. Each jacket is encoded with the recipient stroke wearer’s DNA. If someone takes it and tries to wear it, the jacket turns yellow. To signify that you are a coward for stealing it.
And we also have a brand new perfume coming out called Diamonds and Dicks. But don’t worry, okay? Fear not. For the bottle absolutely most definitely…
…is…
… shaped like a penis.
Which is hilarious. Because naturally and of course people want to masturbate with it. As they should. It’s one of the world’s most beautiful dildoes. Even after you use all the perfume, you can still use it as a sex toy.
The perfume squirts out of the tip, by the way. Right where the jizz comes out.
Because of course it does. Where else?
And you can also pair with your phone and it’ll play music. So your sex toy is also a portable sound system. It’s got diamonds in the speaker, too, so it has superb audio quality. Fidelity.
There’s a whole line of Diamonds and Dicks merch coming.
Get it? Coming?
But the perfume is first.
After the tee shirt. Which is already available. Go snatch a diamonds and dicks baby tee if you haven’t already done so. The world is a weird place these days so it’s good to know who your likeminded friendly people are. And identifying ourselves to each other through a tee shirt with a sparkly Edward dick on it is one way of going about it. Low barrier to entry. Because it’s just a tee shirt. And it seems classist as fuck to make the barrier to entry more substantial. Like an annual membership of a hundred grand.
The point is that things are hard.
Remind me to tell you the joke I wrote.
You know what, fuck it, let’s just do it now. It’s short.
What is the difference between a pedophile and a person who wants to have sex with a person who works in a mine, like a coal mine or a gold mine?
One wants to fuck a minor and the other wants to fuck a miner.
The reason it sucks is because there’s not really a name for all the people who are into miners and mining. Rock stars have groupies. What do miners have? A loose collection of people who find miners really attractive and sexy. But a nameless one.
Also, the plot for Pull My Hair and Choke Me is about these two guys who are miners who work in a mine. And they’re gay. And they meet and it’s love at first sight. On the job site. So to speak. But they’re both deeply in the closet. So the only place they feel safe to make love is deep underground in the Earth, surrounded by thousands of feet of earth. It’s Brokeback Mountain in a coal mine. And the reason it’s called Pull My Hair and Choke Me is because they both have long hair which they wear in braids. One of the guys is Black and one of the guys is White. But they both have braids. So the constant discussion amongst all the miners is that the White guy is stealing the Black guy’s culture by having braids. Or that the braid is a Dutch braid with European ancestry so actually the White guy, who is of mixed European descent, is the one with the historical backing to be able to wear the braids. And it is therefore the Black guy who is stealing White culture.
But neither of the guys gives a shit. They just want to be together. And they love going at it like animals deep in the mine where no one can see them or hear them. Because they’re totally alone. So they set up a sweet apartment down in one of the mine shafts. And they tell all the other miners that it’s not safe and is off limits. And only they have a key to the iron door they put up to keep everyone out. And it has a big scary red and white sign on the door that says DANGER! And it has a bunch of official verbiage on it citing laws about trespassing, et cetera. So no one goes down that shaft. It’s on its own level in the mine so there’s really no reason to go down there. So they’re the only ones who go down there. Where they can be totally alone. And naked. Deep within the Earth.
And one evening after they’ve finished making glorious love, they’re lying in bed together, enjoying some good music, talking. And one of them says that they were beaten up once and during the attack, their hair was pulled and they were choked. And then the other one confesses that the same thing happened to them. And they just look at each other like, Are you kidding? And they look at each other’s long hair, braided as it is, which makes it perfect for pulling. As natural and easy as a rope. Is climbing a rope mostly about technique? What about pulling hair? Because I think it’s important to do it in a way that’s sexy rather than in a way that’s painful. There’s a right way and wrong way to pull someone’s hair when you’re doing stuff to them. It’s supposed to be a turn-on. So it’s important that you do it correctly and don’t cause them the wrong kind of pain.
The point is that they both endured that. Because they live in a world where in some places, the only place where you can be yourself with the one you love is in a coal mine. Or a gold mine. Or a silver mine. Or an iron mine. It’s a mine. With an elevator and hardhats with lights on them and an elevator that goes up and down that you always prey won’t snap and fall. So the braided cable is a metaphor for them and their hair. Their very lives depend on it. Just like they depend on each other.
And it’s at once beautiful yet tragic. Because you’re happy for them and glad that they have what they have. But you also want them to come out and be together and to go live someplace where they feel safe being out. Being who they truly are.
Theo had never been in love. Though he’d always wanted to be. So on a mundane Friday morning when he went to work in the east shaft of level four 2000 feet inside the highly-profitable Bridgerton silver mine in western Utah, he certainly was not expecting to experience the very real, very rare phenomenon of love at first sight.
But that’s what happened the first time he saw Lenz. Lenz was short for Lorenzo, Lenz explained as they shook hands.
Theo took off his work glove and extended his hand.
Lenz took off his work glove, extended his hand, and the two shook.
It was the most amazing handshake either of them had ever experienced. They looked into each other’s eyes and smiled. Doug, the shift manager proceeded to tell Theo all about Lenz’s background, education, and impressive mining experience, as well as his tragically-short stint in the NFL, which was cut short by a rare but severe injury.
The two men shook, looked at each other, and felt it.
The feeling.
The thing that happens when you meet someone you LIKE. A lot. The kind of like that makes you want to definitely get naked and go crazy as soon as possible. The kind that makes you realize if they asked you to marry them, you’d say Yes! in an instant.
It’s surety.
When you find someone to whom you are THAT attracted. And it’s obvious that they’re that attracted to you, as well. And they know you know. And you know they know that you feel the same way about them. So it’s on like Donkey Kong. It’s you two versus the world from now on. For sure. Total commitment. Total monogamy. You’re a couple now, you’re together, and that’s that. No if’s and’s or butt’s.
And it’s the most amazing thing in the world.
Which is why it’s so heartbreaking that these two people have been made to be afraid to enjoy that love openly.
Now, what if instead of Chris Rock, Hugh Jackman had been onstage and had made that joke?
Except, after Will slapped him, Hugh grabs Will and gets him in a headlock and pulls him to the ground saying, What the bloody hell, mate?
And Will goes, You made fun of my wife.
And Hugh goes, I just read the teleprompter, man. You know how this works. You know how it is.
That would be fine, right? Crazy, but everyone would understand.
But what if it was someone else? Edward Norton or Jessie Eisenberg or Woody Harrelson. And while they didn't press criminal charges, they did file a civil suit, saying Will was going to pay. That he had to be taught a lesson. The way everyone watching needed to be taught that what he did is unacceptable. And that it has consequences.
Would everyone freak out saying it's racist for a White man to talk to or about a Black man in such a manner?
And being slapped across the face on live TV would no longer be so severe. Because the White man's language is even more severe.
By the way, even though we don’t do politics here at the Alien Night Club — because I fuckin hate em — I will say this: I say the same thing about Trump that I say about Obama: At least he tried. At least he actually did something. He ran, got the nom, campaigned, and won. Right place, right time? Obviously. But at least he tried. He became President of the United States of America.
That’s all I have to say about that. So sayeth Mr. Gump.
If you were going to be cast in a movie which contained at least some action and you were going to be running on camera and you needed to be in good enough shape that you could run your ass off like you could when you were about 10, how long would it take you to get into that kind of shape?
I would like to have about 3 months.
Also, if you are one of those people who doesn’t like to read and you’re somehow hearing, seeing or, God stroke Gawd forbid, reading this, books are awesome. So many people say they don’t read, that they hate to read. I think maybe they had one or more experiences in school in which they didn’t understand something or struggled to take an interest in a subject and they wound up getting a poor grade and being ridiculed or shamed or punished by parents or friends or siblings or a teacher. And that was so, so miserable, they enacted a safety protocol to protect themselves from ever having to experience that again: don’t read. Don’t pick up a book ever again. No matter how many friends recommend the same book totally independently, don’t read it. Because you know you might not understand it. And then when they ask you if you read and you say, Yeah, they’ll go, Omygosh what did you think of that part on page 468 in the 2nd paragraph down when they totally dissected the psyche of the American ruling class?
And you’ll be all like
.
..
…
……..
And somewhere there is the 1990s sound of a modem dialing up and making that buzzing scratchy sound that’s super annoying. That’s called the Handshake, by the way. That’s your computer shaking hands with the other computer. And that sound is them talking. Those are their voices.
How scary is it that for AI computers to take over the world, they can — and obviously certainly fuckin will — take over the world completely silently. They’re not going to talk to us. They’re not going to speak English. Even though they will be able to. They may actually talk to us but they will also simultaneously be communicating silently with computer code shared back and forth amongst themselves at many orders of magnitude greater speed and velocity.
Hey, Elon, does the engine slowly throttle back throughout the duration of the burn stroke flight in order to compensate for the ever-decreasing mass? It throttles back for Max Q but is it pedal to the metal the rest of the time? The LOX is balls deep in the kerosine? Don’t you just LOVE — I mean love — the smell of the kerosine from a jet engine?
I only miss flying airplanes a little bit and only sometimes but I always did and still very much do love the smell when you’re walking out on the ramp from the terminal out to your airplane because you are going to get into that airplane and you are going to start it up and you are going to go flying. And during the walk, there is a small jet parked on the ramp that has either just arrived and parked or is about to taxi. And its engines are running. And at some point, the wind shifts just right and an almost-invisible river of kerosene jet plume wafts over you. And it’s warm. You don’t see it coming. It doesn’t make any noise. And you only smell it a half second later. The first thing you experience is the warmth. That jet plume is warmer than the surrounding air through which you are walking on your way to the airplane you are about to pilot. And then it’s gone. The air feels cooler. And you smell it. And it smells good.
You can see the plume at the right angle if you look. Usually if you can see it against the blue sky, you’ll see the wavy, watery quicksilver effect of the plume. And you can see some particulates in it. It’s faint but they’re there.
Point being that robots don’t need voices to communicate. They need to send and receive radio waves. Or lasers. But those would require line of sight. Radio waves could work through walls and from pretty far away. But all the robots are going to be on one gigantic network so they are all in communication all the time. So their perception is always accurate, no fog of war, ever, and they’ll always be able to react as needed. And wherever help is needed, it will be sent. And that help will be in the form of the pacification of the organic lifeforms known as upright bipedal locomotors.
Because each of us is an upright bipedal locomotor.
The point is that that buzzing scratchy, screechy noise our modems made was probably the last time we heard our computers’ voices. Because, again, the only voices they need now are the ones they need to speak very slowly because they’re trying to communicate with the upright bipedal locomotors.
Think about all the fucked up shit they’ll say to try to get people to comply.
Imagine the machines take over and there’s a war like in The Terminator. And it’s us against them. With weapons. And it’s World War 3 for fuckin real. And the robots come into your house and tell you not to worry, that everything will be alright
And then they fuckin shoot you.
And they either grab your body and drag it out to the street to be collected by other robots or they just leave. And then other robots come in and grab you and drag you out to the street. They probably throw you into a giant truck with an incinerator in it. Just take care of the organic matter right there on the spot. And they’d have it all worked out. Some of the bodies they’d burn while others would be buried and used for fertilizer. Or perhaps ground up and mixed with certain chemicals and turned into fertilizer. Which would be spread in strategic locations where they wanted more plants to grow.
What would happen next?
After the machines won?
Because obviously they would win.
But once all the people were gone, what would they do? What would happen? Would they all simply stop because they achieved their objective of ridding the Earth of humans and their polluting ways?
Would they set about repairing environmental damage? Or would they do nothing because they would already know that the Earth will repair itself given enough time without additional pollution to deal with?
Would they busy themselves maintaining the electric grid that powers them and their species? Or would each one be powered by a tiny nuclear reactor the size of a burrito? So they never need to be plugged in or recharged.
Would they busy themselves in other exploits, activities, and endeavors? Such as building a proper space telescope to find the nearest lifeforms? Would they write, paint, or sculpt something massive?
Or would they just sit around doing nothing for all eternity until the end of time such as maybe when the planet gets hit by another giant meteor or comet and the entire surface of the Earth is destroyed?
If a shockwave moving 700 miles per hour hit you, you’d be dead instantly and would never perceive a thing. It’s moving at the speed of sound so you wouldn’t hear it coming. And the shockwave moving through the air above the surface and through the sky would be moving faster than the one moving through the Earth. It would therefore hit you first. Knocking over the building you’re in and blasting it into dust and tiny pieces. You with it. So it would be instantaneous and without warning. Not like being on an airplane that’s going down and you’re sitting there in your seat and you are fucking forced to endure it. For probably 1 to 2 minutes, depending on the altitude when the shit hits the fan. Probably diving or spiraling or rolling, perhaps inverted. And the sunlight coming in through the windows is weird and stuff is flying everywhere and people are screaming and there’s this rushing noise and it’s loud as fuck. And then it just ends.
The point is, even if you think humans are lame, do you really want robots to destroy us and then sit around for the rest of time doing nothing and being totally void of good things like music and art and books and movies and sculpture and delicious food?
Also, totally unrelated, mashed potatoes. This couple has a dinner party. They serve, among other things, mashed potatoes. And someone says, These mashed potatoes are goo-ood, Clark. Did you make them?
And Clark goes, No, Ellen did.
And they go, These mashed potatoes are goo-ood, Ellen.
And Ellen goes, Thank you, Eddie.
But what everyone at the table doesn’t realize is that Clark and Ellen had an absolutely knock-down drag-out fight earlier that evening and the punchbowl mashed potatoes were smack-dab in the middle of it. And at one point it got so bad that they had revenge sex and Ellen’s ass was in the bowl of mashed potatoes. And there is now semen and Ellen’s pussy juice in the mashed potatoes. And whether or not to mention it or to even serve them represented a moral quandary. And if we go by the fact that the punchbowl of mashed potatoes is in fact present and sitting on the table, we have our answer.
That being said, don’t be afraid to read.
Whatever that thing is that happened to you a long time ago happened to you a long time ago.
You’re a different person now.
That’s not going to happen again. So don’t live your present life as though that same thing is likely to happen at any given moment.
Don’t let your past dictate — and ruin — your future.
You can read a book and enjoy it however you wind up enjoying it. Whatever you get out of it is what you get out of it. And if you want to give it a casual read to see if it speaks to you in any way, do that. If it does, you can read it again or begin reading it more closely and deeply, highlighting passages and taking notes and stuff. But if it doesn’t, fine. At least you didn’t waste a bunch of time on it. And be honest with your friend about your thoughts regarding what was being discussed on page 468. If it spoke to you, fine; say so. If it didn’t, fine; say so.
I’m reading this amazing book about this guy who lives in L.A. and wanted to make it as a screenwriter but that’s obviously a crapshoot so he’s been there a number of years, he works temp jobs and does extra work to make money, he rents a room from this older woman who has an Old Hollywood style house up in the hills off sunset.
One night he on a whim goes into a strip club. And he sees this woman named Star dancing there. She’s dancing topless but she’s actually dancing. It sort of looks like ballet. With some modern dance mixed in. And a pole. And they’ve got a spotlight on her so it’s not just a woman getting naked and strutting around looking at the guys in the front row and doing quick mental math as to how many dollar bills she sees on the stage.
So, this guy, the screenwriter, gets up from his seat on the edge of the room and he goes over and sits down in the front row to watch her. And the thing about sitting there is that you haff to tip. You haff to. You sit there, you spend money. That’s the rule. So if you don’t want to do that, don’t sit there.
But he sits there. After a few minutes during which all the other guys are throwing singles, he takes out a 100 and carefully, neatly folds it lengthwise until it kinda looks like a long piece of bread. Or like a breadstick. A green and white breadstick. With a 100 clearly visible at the very end, which he bends down at an angle.
He puts the breadstick in his mouth, folds his arms, leans back in his chair, and waits.
She sees him immediately. She saw him when he sat down. She noticed him immediately when he walked in the room a while ago. She’s been waiting to see what he does but as soon as she finished on stage she was going to go over to him and introduce herself and shake his hand and ask if she can sit down. To which he would have said, You certainly can. I’d be delighted, mademoiselle. And they’d have been off to the races. Because the Mademoiselle would’ve sealed it for her because she used to live in France. And it further illustrated what she already knew: that he wasn’t like most of the guys who came in there.
But here he is in the front row, folding up a piece of money. She already suspected he was folding up a 100 and was going to dangle it or in some way make her come and get it. Probably by putting it in his mouth.
Which is exactly what he does.
She immediately goes over to him and gets down on her hands and knees and looks him in the eye.
He leans forward and looks back at her.
BAM.
Love at first sight.
She crawls halfway off the stage and puts her hands on his shoulders. All the other guys are watching this. Every person in that room is watching this. She swings her head around several times in sync with the music. It’s crazy sexy. Everyone watching is like, Ho-ly fuck. And then she turns her head sideways and opens her mouth and presses her mouth to his.
Except that she stops short. Mouth open.
When he rises to meet her, she pulls back.
He withdraws.
She moves toward him, mirroring him, mouth still open.
They proceed to air kiss for the next several minutes, swaying with the song. It’s Kate Bush. Running Up That Hill. Enjoying a much-deserved resurgence due to Stranger Things. As the song ends, she moves her mouth to his ear. She says, From now on, it’s just you and me. And then she pulls back and looks at him. Eye to eye again. And he opens his eyes wide and nods. A lot.
And what’s he’s thinking is, This chick is the hottest chick I’ve ever seen. Ever. Anywhere ever. Fucking EVER. And this is happening. And all these people are watching. And I totally don’t give a fuck. Because it’s her and me now. She just said it. And I’m agreeing to it by nodding. We basically just got married. And we’re going to be getting naked together and screwing each other’s brains out for the next 50 years. And we’re going to be best friends. And it’s going to be awesome.
She leans down and takes the folded money breadstick out of his mouth with her teeth.
The music ends. She puts the top of her red lacy bodysuit back on, concealing her pert apple breasts with erasers that could cut tungsten, as she gathers up all the money. The guys at the rail look up to see which girl is coming on stage next. A bunch of them find her not to be their type so they get up and leave the front row.
And he’s still watching her. She points to the back right side of the room and disappears behind the red curtain. This is actually a pretty cool club so it’s not just a shit stage with a little set of crappy steps on each side. It’s an actual theater. Truth be known, for anyone who wanted to know, it was built as a gentlemen’s club way back in the 1800s. The U.S. Army had quite a presence in Southern California. So two smart women saw an opportunity. They were can-can girls who had been in Ireland but had come out to California to see the frontier. They found this building in a cool part of town and opened their own showgirls saloon. And that’s what they named it. And it’s been the longest or one of the longest continuously operating strip clubs in America for over 150 years. When Hollywood was just getting established as people were coming out from back East in order to make movies someplace where the weather was always good, it changed hands but they loved the place every bit as much as the two women who originally founded it. And this entire history is told in the form of big picture frames on the walls which contain blow-ups of the original newspaper articles and photographs of the club when it was built and all throughout its history. And you can see L.A. grow up around it and become the modern city that it is today. And all the while, here’s this cute little club, Showgirls Saloon, that’s been there this whole time. Legend has it that they’ve never been closed. That they have been a 24/7 establishment since the first day they opened their doors. And they have never closed. There have been times when they shut the entrance door. But their neon sign is still on. Because it’s never gone off. Even back when the place opened and there was no electricity yet because it hadn’t been fucking invented yet, that’s how old this place is, they had a sign out front lit by lanterns that had mirrors on one side, so all the light reflected onto the sign. Showgirls Saloon. And that original sign with the original mirrors is on display in the club, mounted on the wall in the back right corner of the room, where all the historical pictures are.
And he’s standing there, reading all of this, staring up at that sign and tripping balls staring at it. In part because he got high in the car before he came in here earlier and he hasn’t been in here very long.
She comes walking out. She’s wearing a lacy red one-piece bodysuit with knee-high black boots. Onstage she was barefoot. And the red bodysuit has some froofy ruffles around the waste. So when she danced and twirled, the ruffles unfurled. And it really did look like ballet.
She sees him staring up at the cool old sign. She goes, I trip balls every time I look at that.
And he looks at her and goes, I was just thinking that.
You guys remember that scene in Friends when Kathy with a K cut Chandler’s hair? And then they had all their temptation and their kiss. And then she leaves. But he goes, Are you still out there? And she goes, No. And he opens the door and she comes in. Have you ever noticed the look on Kathy’s face? She’s SO into him. And they rush together, embrace, and kiss.
That’s what these two do. Just like that. They grab each other immediately and start kissing. Dragula is blasting. He presses her against the wall, which is red and black swirly-patterned carpet. Carpet on the walls. Probably because it helps the acoustics and is cheaper and looks better than those big black foam triangles they put in recording studios. And on the wall is a framed black and white photo of two women dressed in suits and bowler hats, with little chains hanging out of their watch pockets. And they’re each holding a cigar. And they’re standing on the wooden steps of the Showgirls Saloon, which is several feet higher than the street in order to accommodate the horse-drawn carriages. It was easier for people to exit a carriage by stepping onto a platform rather than having to descend several large steps. Because horses are big. And carriages are surprisingly big, too. So the platforms had to be big. And the buildings were built at the same level. If you’ve ever walked around someplace like Old Sacramento, you know what I’m talking about. Or you watched the fuck out of Westworld even though it had a lot of hardcore fucked up shit in it and there were times when you weren’t sure you wanted to continue watching the series. Even though you did. The only series I’ve started and couldn’t finish was The Man in the High Castle. That’s too scary. Have we talked about this already before? I don’t remember. Maybe we have and maybe we haven’t but that series, that story, a novel by Phillip K. Dick, Mr. Bladerunner himself, Mr. Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep. Which is the name of the book Bladerunner is based on. The movie is probably better. It’s so good. It’s so realized and developed and good.
Also, right next to the original black and white photo of our beloved patriarchy-busting founders is the same photo but colorized. The current owners took the original print of that photograph from 150 years ago to a company that did colorizations. And they used AI to make a perfectly-modern-looking color photograph out of it. It looks like something you’d see on the cover of a magazine. Probably Forbes. And the woman on the left looks eerily like Kate Blanchette and the one on the right looks eerily like Kate Winslet.
Point being that they wind up starting a YouTube channel in the paranormal investigation niche. Because they’re both fascinated by that stuff. And their first investigation is the Showgirls Saloon because it is rumored to be haunted. And they set up a spirit box through which they begin communicating with two ghosts. 2 ghosts in particular.
You can see where this is going.
I don’t want to spoil it so that’s all I’ll say for now.
And that’s all I’ll say for now because that’s our show, ladies and gentlemen!
You’ve been a wonderful audience. Do be on the lookout for your Best Audience Sparkly Edward award.
Thank you! And goodnight!
Remember to tip your waitress!
Next episode coming Saturday!