Devilishly Departmental: Part Deux
[SceneI: The Throneroom]
[Satan and his new agent, Agent 665, are in his throne room going over the agenda.]
Agent 665: Allright, first item. You have a 9:30 appointment with a Mr. Daniels for violin
lessons.
Satan: Violin lessons? What the hell kind of evil is that? In fact, that's really NOT evil. That's
just stupid.
Agent 665: [Waving his hands] Something about Georgia and Golden Fiddles, and some kid
named "Johnny"....the information is really kind of sketchy.
Satan: Burn them! Burn the piss out of them!
Agent 655: Well, if we did that....[looks at his sheet of paper] we will lose 67%, roughly, of
our profits from eBay. Those little trailer rats love useless crap.
Satan: Oh. Can't we just singe them a bit then?
Agent 665: No. Besides, the commissioner of the Southeastern Conference is in Georgia.
His contract doesn't expire until 2017.
Satan: Damn! Damn! Damn! [Pounds his fist]
Agent 665: Ok, next order of business. The Vatican has decided to up its original requests
for bleeding Jesus sculpture from one a year to seven. And they are also requesting
an extension of the rental agreements for the souls of lecherous priests.
Satan: Absolutely not on the first. What are they offering on the second?
Agent 665: A 'Nuns of the Convent' yearly calendar, a Civil War commemorative chess set,
a subscription to the cheese of the month club, and 25% off at Hot Topic.
Satan: Did you say 'Nuns of the Convent"? And cheese?
Agent 665: Yup!
Satan: I certainly do love nuns and cheese....
Agent 665: ...and it's a pretty nice chess set, too.
Satan: [Thinks for a moment] Ok. tell them yes, but only an extra month. Meanwhile, I want
the calendar over there next to the throne, the cheese on one of those big silver
platters over there [Points], and funnel the rest to our eBay store. No, wait. Forward
the discount card to Golgotha; she may need spare parts.
Agent 665: Very good, sir. Next item: Jesus called. He wants to sit down.
Satan: Again?! We just did that two millenia ago next Tuesday.
Agent 665: He's really pretty adamant about this. We really should pencil him in. How about
three o'clock in the main conference hall? We'll just cancel your weekly round of golf
with Tiger Woods. Besides, we can always reschedule.
Satan: [Sighs] Fine! Damn!
Agent 665: We can always set it for another time....
Satan: No, damnit! Let's get this stupid crap over with! In fact, bump it up to umm...noontime.
We'll make it a lunch thing. That way I can still play golf. I got your ass this time, Tiger!
[Raises fist to the air]
Agent 665: Ok, that should cover everything for today.
Satan: Let's see, what time is it? [Looks at his watch] Ahh, 8:45. Time for a quick sulphur
rinse, and then off to the races!
Agent 665: As you wish, sire.
[Exit Satan]
[End Scene]
[Scene II: The Main Conference Hall of Hell]
[Satan and Agent 665 awaits Jesus and his men.]
[Satan is reading Reader's Digest Magzine]
[Agent 665 is picking his nose and trying to flick it off his fingertip]
Satan: [Chuckling] Oh, Reader's Digest, laughter really is the best medicine!
[Closes the magazine.]
Where are they?! It's almost 1:00 for chrissakes!
Agent 665: [Chuckling]
Satan: What?
Agent 665: Nothing. You just said 'christ's sake'....
Satan: Oh, yeah, Ha!. That's pretty funny, actually.
Agent 665: Yeah...
[Enter Jesus and his two goons]
Jesus: Satan!
Satan: Jesus! Wonderful to see you! I hope the flight was to your liking?
Jesus: Eh. It was ok. A little bumpy around the tokhes, but ok.
Satan: You want I should fetch a charioteer for you next time? You haven't traveled to the
Underworld until you've done it by chariot!
Jesus: Oh, you musn't trouble. I'll be fine! I'll just get another one. Dad's got tons of extras.
I was thinking of something athletic and Nigerian. [Poses and looks at his rear end]
Satan: Why mess with perfection?
Agent 665: [Ushering towards a table and chairs] Gentlemen? Shall we?
Satan: [Sits down at the head of the table] Have some challah made fresh this morning,
Jesus. You're a wine man, aren't you? Wine all around! And bring some of those
fish ball things, too.
Agent 665: As you wish, sire.
[Exit Agent 665]
Jesus: Really, Satan, you worry too much. Forget me! Let's get on with things. We can
have fish and bread later, but now....now, let's talk.
Satan: By all means. How terrible of me. Please, continue.
Jesus: The other day, Ishmael comes to me...
[Enter Agent 665 with a plate of bread and fish balls, and a bottle of wine.]
Agent 665: Here we are, Gentlemen!
Jesus: [Rolling his eyes] Thank you...
Goon #1: Could ya' pass the challah, boss?
Jesus: [Staring at the goon in amazement] Murray, forget the challah! Eat on your own time.
[Under his breath] Schmuck. Anyways, Ishmael comes to me the other day and
says to me, 'Hey, Boss, Satan is making bleeding sculptures for the priests. I thought
this was our job!' So, I says to myself 'How could this be? This very good friend of
mine? Renting out bleeding sculptures with my face on them? This can't be true of
this person.'
Satan: Outrageous!
Agent 665: Yes, that's crazy. [Looks briefly at Satan who looks back at him.]
Jesus: That's good, boys....
Goon #2: [With a mouth full of food] Yeah, that's good for them! Tell 'em, Boss!
Jesus: I'm tellin' 'em, already! Don't talk wit' your mouth full! [Smacks Goon #2] Like I was
sayin', that's good. Because if'n I ever found out someone was tryin' to move in on my
business - you know what I would do?
Satan: Make them watch Ishtar?
Agent 665: Good one! [Satan and Agent 665 discreetly high-five and snicker at each other
in agreement]
Jesus: Gentlemen, I don't think you are taking this seriously. [Takes a fish ball and tosses it
into his mouth] and when I don't think someone isn't taking me seriously, it makes
me angry. [Clears his throat and grabs another fsh ball] Listen, if I find out you've
been making anything, ...and I mean ANYTHNG for the priests, I will send you back
to work for Disney until the sun explodes. Get me? [Eats the second fish ball and
coughs]
Satan: Yeah, I got it. Geez!
Agent 665: [Winces]
Jesus: Excuse me, you little punk? [Coughs heartily now]
Agent 665: Jesus, have a glass of wine. [Pours a glass of wine for Jesus]
Jesus: [Coughing] Thank you, my son. [Drinks the wine and clears his throat] Four billion
years and you still haven't learned any manners? Satan, what have you been doing
with yourself? Look at you. Who do you think you are? Mel Gibson? [Begins
coughing again]
Satan: Lord of the Pit?
Jesus: You're about ...[Coughs profusely]
Goon #1: Boss....[Both goons stand up]
Goon #2: You don't look so good, boss. [Satan and Agent 665 look at each other briefly]
Jesus: [Feeling nautious, stops coughing for a moment] You know boys, you're right. I don't
feel well. [Begins coughing again; shoots an angry look at Satan and Agent 665]
Goon #1: Come on, Boss. Let's get you some rest.
Goon #2: Yeah, you got yourself all worked up and stuff.
[The goons help the coughing Jesus up out of his chair]
Jesus: [Struggling to hold his breath] This ain't over, you two. I'll be back.
Satan: I'll have my people call you in three days.
Goon #1: Hey, don't get so smart, wise guy, or I'll twist your horns backwards to poke you in
your ass.
Goon #2: [Chuckles oafishly; Jesus begins to cough again]
[Exit Jesus]
[Exit Goon#1]
[Exit Goon #2]
Satan: [Awestruck] What the HELL just happened?
Agent 665: Umm, I think we just pissed off the son of god.
Satan: [Picks up a fish ball and looks at it] What did you put in these?
Agent 665: Just what you said: fish balls.
Satan: [Pausing in disbelief] You put WHAT in these?
Agent 665: You said bring in some wine and fish balls.
Satan: You fed the son of God the balls of a fish? I didn't even know fish had balls!
Agent 665: How was I supposed to know? I mean, he fed everybody with fish!
Satan: Yeah, sure, but he never ate any himself.
Agent 665: Ahh, right. Eww, ok, my bad. [Sighs] So, what do we do now?
Satan: We? No, sir. Me! I'll be enjoying margaritas off the tits of a dragon on the beaches
of Titan in about two hours. You will likely be left to polish Mickey's one good eye
as he hits an eightball or two off of Alice's Teacups. Sounds, great, but no thank you!
Agent 665: What the hell, man?
Satan: [Mockingly Singing] Oh, I'm the Devil and I don't care!
Agent 665: I've organized your social calendar and appointments, I've laughed at your stupid
jokes, cooked and fed you, and let's not forget that case of Velorian Herpes you got
from that overly-fertile whatever-you-call-them-things...
Satan: It was a Chocolate H'gruk Gruk.
Agent 665: ...that's it! A Chocolate [stumbling over the words] H'gruk Gruk, which I still
don't know how that happened since there were no holes in her body.
Satan: There is now! [Laughs at himself]
Agent 665: ...
Satan: What? It's all in the wrist! [Looks at his watch] Speaking of....I'm famished. Let's get
something to eat.
Agent 665: [Pouting] Have some fish balls.
Satan: Yeah, well, I think I'm going to go out tonight. Want I should pick you up something?
Agent 665: Really?
Satan: Hell, no! [Cackles]
[Exit Satan]
[End Scene]
[Scene III: On The Moon of Titan]
[Satan awaits one of his mistresses while conducting business on the phone]
Satan: [Talking on the phone and pacing] Listen, Benny, I appreciate your interest in our
product but upping the number of bleeding Jesus sculptures from one to seven can
upset the balance of things if we don't space these things out.
...
Seriously, you're going to coach me on the business of evil, now?
...
Benny...[Trying to interrupt]...Benny, no dice, man. Listen, I got another call coming
in - I got to take this. I'll send you the first one on Thursday in Brooklyn, NY. Bye!
[Answers the second caller]
[In a pleasant voice] Prince of Darkness.....?
...
Mr. President! Good to hear from you. What can I do for you?
...
Wait a minute, ... ok....ok! Slow down!
...
Well, who cares if the Republicans are stonewalling you?
...
Uh huh...? I tell you what, [Sighs] I'll talk to Sarah tomorrow and see if she'll consider
it, and if that doesn't work, we'll send in the Tea Partyers.
...
Yeah, I know they're racist but they hate Republicans. After all, the enemy of my
enemy....Tell me about it! Hey, listen, I got company on the way. I'll talk to you
later, k? Ok, Barack, talk to you soon. Buh-bye.
[Hangs up]
[There's a knock at the door; Satan answers]
Baby, am I glad to see you!
Lilith: Satan! [Kisses Satan on the cheek and enters]
Satan: How long has it been? Two? Two and a half thousand years?
Lilith: [Sings a stanza from Barbara Streisand's You Don't Bring Me Flowers]
"You don't bring me flowers, you don't write me love songs...."
Satan: Yeah, yeah, I know. I've been busy.
Lilith: Busy? Too busy for me?
Satan: Listen, it's been a busy year. Can't get a decent concierge anywhere, I got the pope
breathing down my neck about miracles, and I got a country to run among other
things.
Lilith: Sounds like you need a little stress reliever.
[Seductively rubs his chest and looks at him]
Satan: Exactly. To top things off, I got this Jesus thing to deal with.
Lilith: I thought we killed him once before?
Satan: We did, but the fucker rose from the dead after a three-day drunken tirade through
the City of Dis. Now he says I owe him or something.
Lilith: I don't see you for a couple thousand years, and all I get is whining. Where's the guy
who rode a river of lava through the streets of Pompeii just so he could get even heat
on his marshmallows so they wouldn't burn on one side?
Satan: [Grins] Yeah, that was fun...
Lilith: Allright now, come over here and give some sugar to your favorite temptress.
Satan: [Kisses Lilith; Phone rings again] Goddamnit! I got to take this, one moment.
[Answers phone]
Bill, how's it going? Uh huh? Yep. Yep. Ok, did you clear your cookies? Ok, after
you saw the blue screen, did you restart the computer? Ok, try that.
[Makes a silly face as he counts the moments]
That worked? Good deal, man. Hey, no problem, it's all part of the contract. Ok,
talk to you later.
[Hangs up]
Ok, now where were we?
Lilith: Heating marshmallows....? [Smiles seductively]
Satan: Oh, yeah...[Leans in for a kiss; the phone rings again] Son of a bitch! This shit
didn't happen when I wasn't doing this all myself. That's it.
[Snaps his fingers; there's a knock at the door]
Lilith: [Answering the door; talking to Satan] Oh, darling, you ordered room service....
Satan: Get in here and answer these calls, thrull!
Agent 665: [Phone continues to ring] Answer it yourself.
Satan: Listen, if you don't shut this ringing phone up I'm going to flay you over an open pit.
Lilith: Satan, dearest, it appears you're busy....
Satan: No, just hold on, Lilith.
Agent 665: [Folds his arms] I don't care. Not until you apologize.
Lilith: Ok, this is lame on so many levels.
[Exits flipping the bird to Satan and slamming the door]
Satan: [Exasperated; stomping his feet] Damn, damn, damn, DDDAAAAMMMNNN!
[Shoots an angry stare at Agent 665 and points a finger] You! You're the cause
of this!
Agent 665: Do what you will, but no apology, no help.
[Closes his eyes in anticipation of being struck by Satan]
Satan: [Raising a fist to beat Agent 665 and then pausing] Ok, asshole, I'm sorry! Now, can
you please just answer this damn phone?!
Agent 665: [Smiles, and takes the phone from Satan] Prince of Darkness, Lord of the Pit!...
Absolutely not! Well, I'm afraid that will just have to do, Mister Ill. He is out of the
office until Monday at the earliest...I don't care if you are the leader of North Korea!
Ok, well, that is just rude. Good day, sir!
...
I said good day, sir!
[Hangs up]
Satan: Now, that's what I'm talking about!
Agent 665: You damn right it is.
Satan: NOW, I can get back to doing what I do best....
Agent 665: Space Invaders?
Satan: Damn right. You going to be player two?
Agent 665: What about Lilith?
Satan: She hates this thing.
Agent 665: Then, in that case, damn right!
[Both sit down and grab a controller]
This time you're going down!
Satan: In your dreams, cockboy!
[Fade to Black]
[End Scene III]
[End Act]
Invino Veritas
9/24/11
EOF
Saturday, September 24, 2011
Random Pies on the Window Sill
9/19/11
---------
1. I should remind myself to write the book entitled "Songs That Should Never Be Sung
Aloud To Anyone Ever". This will be a collection of inappropriate, crude, lewd,
gauche, common, and otherwise lowbrow songs meant for purposes of humour and
just to simply get them out of my head. Their lyrical patterns will follow the ones
found in many popular songs. In all likelihood, it will probably become nothing more
than "Invino's Big Book of Dirty Poems".
2. This should probably be called "Random Cow Pies In The Field".
3. Remind me to make a Christmas version of "Songs That Should Never Be Sung Aloud To
Anyone Ever". Naturally, it should be narrated by Morgan Freeman.
4. I knew I was right; Courtney Gains was in both 'Children of the Corn' and 'Hardbodies'.
5. Man, never got any REM sleep last night. I hate it when this happens. Layed there for
four hours in a semi-sleep state until 6:30 this morning. I've a feeling this is going to
affect my Monday Night Football ventures.
6. I've a feeling that I'm going to end up getting denatured alcohol in my eye. My eye itches,
and I have the alcohol on my fingers at the moment.
7. After listening to a bunch of Cabaret bands and singers on last.fm, I've realized a few
things. Most all of them are really crappy. Voltaire is awesome. Vermillion Lies ain't
bad. Abney Park is pretty decent. But the rest of it sounds like butt. I would happily
recommend some Voltaire, however. Oh, and Jason Webley seems to be pretty decent,
too.
8. Everyone should know people of the following five occupations: Police Officer, Lawyer,
Doctor, Mechanic, and a Computer Guy. These seem like people who you will inevitably
find yourself paying at one point in your life within modern society unless you have a
friend.
9/20/11
---------
1. I feel like I'm in a creative lull. I wonder if it may be that I'm not putting myself into
situations that serve as impetus for my creativity. Hmm.
2. Zombina and the Skeletons are cool. Check 'em here.
3. I really wonder about the inspiration that people have for their band names. For example:
Black Math Horseman, The Peculiar Pretzelman, The Mystic Knights of the Oingo
Boingo, and, my favorite, Honest Bob and the Factory-to-Dealer Incentives.
4. I wonder if the band 'The Last Days of Jesus' mean their music to be listened before,
during, or after Passover. And are they talking about the first or second time? This is
so confusing.
5. Given the amount of MSG in Chinese cuisine in the U.S., I wonder if I could rub some Lo
Mein on some day-old cantaloupe and bring back the color in the fruit. After all, Fruit
Fresh was nothing more than MSG, which, by the way, you can buy in your spice aisle.
6. Clockhammer was one of the best bands of which you never heard.
7. I think I deserve to be upset to a slight degree if I sit in my chair for an hour with my fly
down a nobody brings it to my attention. Especially when I already know.
9/21/11
---------
1. Ok, Facebook. You may wonder why I decided to post this one Google's service. It's for
the same reason every infinitesimal chunk of substance that I still like about Facebook is
being wittled away piece by piece with every stupid change you make to the interface. If I
want to drive to the store in my hometown, the city doesn't change the route every few
weeks. The things that I found attractive about using your service are slowly disappearing
with every change. You need to realize that I, among others, don't need you. What will we
do without you? The same damn thing we did before you, and maybe more. With the
competition that has sprung upvwith your success, you can't afford to drive the mainstays
away. But I have a minor solution forvyou: institute a classic view. Otherwise, the more
infrequent I hear from you, the better.
2. There is a suprising amount of people in this world who will attempt to tell intelligent,
smart, creative, and talented people that they are ignorant. I'm reminded of ex-KGB
agent Yuri Bezmenov's explanation of 'normalization', or the changing of a nation over
a period of time to one's own idea of truth, fact, and definition. You can catch some
of Yuri's interviews on Youtube, by the way. It's actually pretty good, and really kind
of depressing and scary.
3. 'Breaking Bad' is an excellent show. It's interesting, comical at times, and it has a different
sort of feel than most shows. But, unlike many other shows I like, it's not very inspiring.
Usually, I feel like I may have creative surges when I start watching or engaging in
something, but not with this show. It's kind of strange, actually. No, I'm not saying I
borrow from these other shows. Think of it more like applying the heat to cook your
dinner. It just gets the juices flowing.
4. I really should apply myself towards getting another scene, at the very least, to the play.
5. I think I need a priest or a rabbi. These printers are surely spawns of the devil, and must
be blessed and/or exorcised.
6. Too bad brass isn't worth a ton of money. I could be swimming in dough right about
now from all this brass lying around in these spare parts.
7. What if it's not that our perspective on time changes a we get older but rather the temporal
stream changes as we get older? Say, for example, it's not that time flies when we get
older, but it's actually "covering less ground' as it reaches its own finality. I think Ted
Theodore Logan just said 'Whoa."
8. I fought the Taco Bell 12-Pack, and the 12-Pack won. I'll have to write that Kobayashi guy
and learn his training secrets. I'll be back, damn you! You can't escape me forever! (This is
me shaking my fist on a blog service.)
9. I made a clerical error yesterday: it's Zombina and the Skeletones.
10. The Creepshow is pretty cool, too. The band, not the show or movie.
9/22/11
---------
1. Taken from a recent Classifieds listing: "FS: Squeaky Shoes". Really? This is a
selling point?
2. Man, my back has been feeling pretty good the past couple of days. I wonder why. Hmm.
3. Man, Kyle Thomas's (Alabama Thunderpussy) voice is monstrous. The guy is a beast.
4. I think if I replace one more printer base I'm going to end up in the bell tower with a rifle.
5. Today, I worked on the second installment or act or fourth scene or whatever of something
that began on here as a whim of three scenes and one act called "Devilishly
Departmental: A Farce". It's called "Devilishly Departmental: Part Deux". I wrote nearly
two entire scenes of what should probably be three scenes. This is why there's probably
not going to be as much content under this date in this post.
9/23/11
----------
1. Damn I'm tired.
2. When martian kids look at the night sky, do they see the martian in the earth?
3. When the tooth is long,
And the beard is gray,
When the moon is bright,
And the sun goes away,
The stars do shine,
Lighting silver bristles,
Shining the way,
For tiny silver missiles.
4. "You can't have everything; Where would you put it?" (Steven Wright)
5. So if neutrinos can go faster than the speed of light, how could we harness that if
they pass through all tangible matter?
6. "Son, you put the 'shit' in shit."
7. The end.
---------
1. I should remind myself to write the book entitled "Songs That Should Never Be Sung
Aloud To Anyone Ever". This will be a collection of inappropriate, crude, lewd,
gauche, common, and otherwise lowbrow songs meant for purposes of humour and
just to simply get them out of my head. Their lyrical patterns will follow the ones
found in many popular songs. In all likelihood, it will probably become nothing more
than "Invino's Big Book of Dirty Poems".
2. This should probably be called "Random Cow Pies In The Field".
3. Remind me to make a Christmas version of "Songs That Should Never Be Sung Aloud To
Anyone Ever". Naturally, it should be narrated by Morgan Freeman.
4. I knew I was right; Courtney Gains was in both 'Children of the Corn' and 'Hardbodies'.
5. Man, never got any REM sleep last night. I hate it when this happens. Layed there for
four hours in a semi-sleep state until 6:30 this morning. I've a feeling this is going to
affect my Monday Night Football ventures.
6. I've a feeling that I'm going to end up getting denatured alcohol in my eye. My eye itches,
and I have the alcohol on my fingers at the moment.
7. After listening to a bunch of Cabaret bands and singers on last.fm, I've realized a few
things. Most all of them are really crappy. Voltaire is awesome. Vermillion Lies ain't
bad. Abney Park is pretty decent. But the rest of it sounds like butt. I would happily
recommend some Voltaire, however. Oh, and Jason Webley seems to be pretty decent,
too.
8. Everyone should know people of the following five occupations: Police Officer, Lawyer,
Doctor, Mechanic, and a Computer Guy. These seem like people who you will inevitably
find yourself paying at one point in your life within modern society unless you have a
friend.
9/20/11
---------
1. I feel like I'm in a creative lull. I wonder if it may be that I'm not putting myself into
situations that serve as impetus for my creativity. Hmm.
2. Zombina and the Skeletons are cool. Check 'em here.
3. I really wonder about the inspiration that people have for their band names. For example:
Black Math Horseman, The Peculiar Pretzelman, The Mystic Knights of the Oingo
Boingo, and, my favorite, Honest Bob and the Factory-to-Dealer Incentives.
4. I wonder if the band 'The Last Days of Jesus' mean their music to be listened before,
during, or after Passover. And are they talking about the first or second time? This is
so confusing.
5. Given the amount of MSG in Chinese cuisine in the U.S., I wonder if I could rub some Lo
Mein on some day-old cantaloupe and bring back the color in the fruit. After all, Fruit
Fresh was nothing more than MSG, which, by the way, you can buy in your spice aisle.
6. Clockhammer was one of the best bands of which you never heard.
7. I think I deserve to be upset to a slight degree if I sit in my chair for an hour with my fly
down a nobody brings it to my attention. Especially when I already know.
9/21/11
---------
1. Ok, Facebook. You may wonder why I decided to post this one Google's service. It's for
the same reason every infinitesimal chunk of substance that I still like about Facebook is
being wittled away piece by piece with every stupid change you make to the interface. If I
want to drive to the store in my hometown, the city doesn't change the route every few
weeks. The things that I found attractive about using your service are slowly disappearing
with every change. You need to realize that I, among others, don't need you. What will we
do without you? The same damn thing we did before you, and maybe more. With the
competition that has sprung upvwith your success, you can't afford to drive the mainstays
away. But I have a minor solution forvyou: institute a classic view. Otherwise, the more
infrequent I hear from you, the better.
2. There is a suprising amount of people in this world who will attempt to tell intelligent,
smart, creative, and talented people that they are ignorant. I'm reminded of ex-KGB
agent Yuri Bezmenov's explanation of 'normalization', or the changing of a nation over
a period of time to one's own idea of truth, fact, and definition. You can catch some
of Yuri's interviews on Youtube, by the way. It's actually pretty good, and really kind
of depressing and scary.
3. 'Breaking Bad' is an excellent show. It's interesting, comical at times, and it has a different
sort of feel than most shows. But, unlike many other shows I like, it's not very inspiring.
Usually, I feel like I may have creative surges when I start watching or engaging in
something, but not with this show. It's kind of strange, actually. No, I'm not saying I
borrow from these other shows. Think of it more like applying the heat to cook your
dinner. It just gets the juices flowing.
4. I really should apply myself towards getting another scene, at the very least, to the play.
5. I think I need a priest or a rabbi. These printers are surely spawns of the devil, and must
be blessed and/or exorcised.
6. Too bad brass isn't worth a ton of money. I could be swimming in dough right about
now from all this brass lying around in these spare parts.
7. What if it's not that our perspective on time changes a we get older but rather the temporal
stream changes as we get older? Say, for example, it's not that time flies when we get
older, but it's actually "covering less ground' as it reaches its own finality. I think Ted
Theodore Logan just said 'Whoa."
8. I fought the Taco Bell 12-Pack, and the 12-Pack won. I'll have to write that Kobayashi guy
and learn his training secrets. I'll be back, damn you! You can't escape me forever! (This is
me shaking my fist on a blog service.)
9. I made a clerical error yesterday: it's Zombina and the Skeletones.
10. The Creepshow is pretty cool, too. The band, not the show or movie.
9/22/11
---------
1. Taken from a recent Classifieds listing: "FS: Squeaky Shoes". Really? This is a
selling point?
2. Man, my back has been feeling pretty good the past couple of days. I wonder why. Hmm.
3. Man, Kyle Thomas's (Alabama Thunderpussy) voice is monstrous. The guy is a beast.
4. I think if I replace one more printer base I'm going to end up in the bell tower with a rifle.
5. Today, I worked on the second installment or act or fourth scene or whatever of something
that began on here as a whim of three scenes and one act called "Devilishly
Departmental: A Farce". It's called "Devilishly Departmental: Part Deux". I wrote nearly
two entire scenes of what should probably be three scenes. This is why there's probably
not going to be as much content under this date in this post.
9/23/11
----------
1. Damn I'm tired.
2. When martian kids look at the night sky, do they see the martian in the earth?
3. When the tooth is long,
And the beard is gray,
When the moon is bright,
And the sun goes away,
The stars do shine,
Lighting silver bristles,
Shining the way,
For tiny silver missiles.
4. "You can't have everything; Where would you put it?" (Steven Wright)
5. So if neutrinos can go faster than the speed of light, how could we harness that if
they pass through all tangible matter?
6. "Son, you put the 'shit' in shit."
7. The end.
Monday, September 5, 2011
Technical Support Connection
This one goes out to all my friends who have the fortune to be employed at this time, but the misfortune of being employed by the Sitel Corporation doing technical support.
Technical Support Connection
I'm eating corn chips,
I shoot from my hip,
I'm a first-year student,
And barely equipped,
But I'm your technical support connection,
Directing you to remove your microchip.
Now I'm level two,
When your screen is blue,
And you're crying because,
All your work is through,
But I'm your technical support connection,
Denying your next request for something new.
Screaming on the phone,
To the newbie drone,
Diconnected for the,
Fury that you've shown,
From your new technical support connection,
Leaving you to ignite at your home alone.
Returning once more,
Nicer than before,
You get a manager,
To settle the score,
It's me! Your technical support connection,
Your warranty has ended and here's the door!
You've escalated,
Never placated,
You have begged and pleaded,
And then debated,
To your new technical support connection,
Who seemed, a little less than you, elated.
So you have one made,
Think yourself well-played,
But as fate has decided,
It's me that you paid!
Your local technical support connection,
I'm the guy, who for some reason, made the grade.
Invino Veritas
9/5/11
EOF
Technical Support Connection
I'm eating corn chips,
I shoot from my hip,
I'm a first-year student,
And barely equipped,
But I'm your technical support connection,
Directing you to remove your microchip.
Now I'm level two,
When your screen is blue,
And you're crying because,
All your work is through,
But I'm your technical support connection,
Denying your next request for something new.
Screaming on the phone,
To the newbie drone,
Diconnected for the,
Fury that you've shown,
From your new technical support connection,
Leaving you to ignite at your home alone.
Returning once more,
Nicer than before,
You get a manager,
To settle the score,
It's me! Your technical support connection,
Your warranty has ended and here's the door!
You've escalated,
Never placated,
You have begged and pleaded,
And then debated,
To your new technical support connection,
Who seemed, a little less than you, elated.
So you have one made,
Think yourself well-played,
But as fate has decided,
It's me that you paid!
Your local technical support connection,
I'm the guy, who for some reason, made the grade.
Invino Veritas
9/5/11
EOF
Friday, September 2, 2011
The Week In Review
Well, another seven days or so has passed by once again. My normal work has kept me pretty busy and my renewed interest in SlothMUD has taken up some of my time. Football season has officially started in the college realm and that means Fantasy Football, meat on the grill, and overall good times to be had by many. I spent a lot of time this week revisiting some old music from the 80's, too. Namely, I've revisited three bands: Oingo Boingo, Bow Wow Wow, and The Go-Go's. (I have full intention to discuss them in future posts.) Got paid on Wednesday, got poor again by Thursday as all bills are paid at the moment. Thursday night is also raw oyster night at one of the local watering holes here, and accordingly I felt obligated to scarf down about eighteen of them along with some lagers. There's a small voice in my head everytime I eat raw oysters, though, and it says to me "You realize, one day they will kill you, right?" But perhaps it's not only the taste I enjoy but the thrill of the edgewise strafing I enjoy as well. I'll accept both answers at this time.
As we embark upon another Labor Day weekend here in the States, I have no real plans for anything out of the ordinary. I plan to get in some serious couch time and likely watch some Star Trek: Voyager on Netflix. There will be no doubt as to my working on the new area I am creating for SlothMUD. Having recently finsihed a frontier of dinosaurs, I have begun construction of a quest area chock full of a strange array of good, evil, law, and chaos. I am determined on another venture, however. Real world business has caused me to neglect my adventures of Dalmar over at the Bucholera blog, and I fully intend to produce another chapter and bring some resolution to the conflict tha has beset Dalmar and his partner, Sh'lzzt. Labor Day weekend means more than relaxation and personal productivity - at least for many. I have options, and plenty of them should I desire to get away from it all. I reckon I will find time for visiting and manning a grill or two as, once again, it is the beginning of the college football season. But I hate getting busy at work for two major reasons: it keeps me from being involved with my friends and their lives, and it stifles my creativity with unrelated thoughts and stress. I just simply don't produce the quality of material, if at all, when I m that busy with work. It can really be quite disheartening. In as much as all that, I am thankful to have three days with which to work out the details. I think I'm going to leave things on cruise control for a while, and just coast in to the harbor. That seems to be a viable course of action, and also seems to be appropriate given the nature of historic Labor Day activities.
Catch you guys on the flipside of the wormhole.
Peace.
Invino Veritas
9/2/11
EOF
As we embark upon another Labor Day weekend here in the States, I have no real plans for anything out of the ordinary. I plan to get in some serious couch time and likely watch some Star Trek: Voyager on Netflix. There will be no doubt as to my working on the new area I am creating for SlothMUD. Having recently finsihed a frontier of dinosaurs, I have begun construction of a quest area chock full of a strange array of good, evil, law, and chaos. I am determined on another venture, however. Real world business has caused me to neglect my adventures of Dalmar over at the Bucholera blog, and I fully intend to produce another chapter and bring some resolution to the conflict tha has beset Dalmar and his partner, Sh'lzzt. Labor Day weekend means more than relaxation and personal productivity - at least for many. I have options, and plenty of them should I desire to get away from it all. I reckon I will find time for visiting and manning a grill or two as, once again, it is the beginning of the college football season. But I hate getting busy at work for two major reasons: it keeps me from being involved with my friends and their lives, and it stifles my creativity with unrelated thoughts and stress. I just simply don't produce the quality of material, if at all, when I m that busy with work. It can really be quite disheartening. In as much as all that, I am thankful to have three days with which to work out the details. I think I'm going to leave things on cruise control for a while, and just coast in to the harbor. That seems to be a viable course of action, and also seems to be appropriate given the nature of historic Labor Day activities.
Catch you guys on the flipside of the wormhole.
Peace.
Invino Veritas
9/2/11
EOF
Friday, August 19, 2011
The Broken Compass and Other Ramblings
Today began with a contemplative mood and this mood has persisted throughout the morning to this very time. As it happens often enough, I am confronted by the question of moral existences. Life has a funny way of pesenting me with opportunities of relfection such as these. I think this mood actually started last night, actually. You ever get a sudden epiphany that something about you becomes blindingly apparent all at once, and either you react with a sort of startle or shame? Well, maybe not shame, per se, but disappointment. Moreover, I guess you could say I had a moment of clarity. For the first time in a long time, I saw myself and someone I have known for years in a different, unsettling light. But at the very least, one of them is immediately changeable. The other will require some careful consideration.
Taking into consideration that, at that time, I had had about four beers, I will take some responsibility for the possibility of warping my perspective. There. That's done. Now, to continue, I will stop drinking beer for a while I think about this. On the surface this sounds like I'm only doing this for one day. Not at all. I propose to quit drinking altogether for about two weeks at the very least starting today. Done it before. I can do it again. This will undoubtedly curb my night time activities. (For those of you who know me, don't hate me for not being around much.) It's OK, though; It might even save me some money. Then I can take that extra cash and start on the things I've been putting behind for too long. This leads me to my own realization that I had let some things pass too long without doing anything about them. This is part two of the things I can change: get of my ass and getting back in control of my destiny. It's time to take a proactive approach to those parts of my environment that I can control. I don't really want to put some really attractive distractions to the wayside, but I have way too much pride to let things continue as they are at the moment.
Anyways, the following poem is one that I wrote while i was thinking about the other person and the light by which she became apparent. I won't go into details, but it was pretty startling as I have known this person for years. Normally, I really hate the idea of puttng my stuff online with the possibility of not getting credit or my ideas. I realize the agreement that Google makes you agree to when you get an account with them is just another way for another company to say "Hey, come check us out, but if you do we are going to steal your shit and not pay you for it. We will also use it in any way, regardless of context - disparaging or promotional - or not at all regardless of how you feel about it. Oh, by the way, you waive all your instrinsic rights as human beings and citizens of [Enter Country Here] by agreeing to this document." It seems to be pretty fairly common practice for all sorts of companies. This time, however, I don't feel particularly inclined to complain or have the energy to care about it right now.
Enjoy.
---------------
The Broken Compass
There's no laughter I wish to find,
No confusion about the world,
No findings about the universe,
To make the toes begin to curl,
There's no order to my process,
No random to the entropy,
Simply a blanketing disappointment,
Boiling out from inside of me.
I reflect upon beginnings,
Of the inherent properties,
That became nothing more than nursery rhymes,
Of the phantom moralities,
And yet should this broken compass,
Pointing different for child and man,
Directs the quills staining legal parchment,
Without intentions for its hand.
Tell me when the identity,
Like caterpillars, grew their wings,
As butterflies, from the chrysalis flew,
Into a world of dif'rent things,
When did the sacred commandments,
And the intrinsic wrongs and rights,
Cease to be, ever again, recognized,
And cease our fires from burning bright.
---------------
By the way, I realize I told you guys that there would be another music review on here. I just wanted to take a moment to say the following: Be patient. It's coming. I plan to try to address that this weekend.
Also, tune into the ongoing adventures of Dalmar this weekend as we discover another chapter in his quest to return to Draftengil and exact his long-awaited his vengeance against the evil wizard, Xander. Only in my other blog, Bucholera! Will he make it? Who can tell? Tune in!
Invino Veritas
8/19/11 (Happy Birthday, sis!)
EOF
Taking into consideration that, at that time, I had had about four beers, I will take some responsibility for the possibility of warping my perspective. There. That's done. Now, to continue, I will stop drinking beer for a while I think about this. On the surface this sounds like I'm only doing this for one day. Not at all. I propose to quit drinking altogether for about two weeks at the very least starting today. Done it before. I can do it again. This will undoubtedly curb my night time activities. (For those of you who know me, don't hate me for not being around much.) It's OK, though; It might even save me some money. Then I can take that extra cash and start on the things I've been putting behind for too long. This leads me to my own realization that I had let some things pass too long without doing anything about them. This is part two of the things I can change: get of my ass and getting back in control of my destiny. It's time to take a proactive approach to those parts of my environment that I can control. I don't really want to put some really attractive distractions to the wayside, but I have way too much pride to let things continue as they are at the moment.
Anyways, the following poem is one that I wrote while i was thinking about the other person and the light by which she became apparent. I won't go into details, but it was pretty startling as I have known this person for years. Normally, I really hate the idea of puttng my stuff online with the possibility of not getting credit or my ideas. I realize the agreement that Google makes you agree to when you get an account with them is just another way for another company to say "Hey, come check us out, but if you do we are going to steal your shit and not pay you for it. We will also use it in any way, regardless of context - disparaging or promotional - or not at all regardless of how you feel about it. Oh, by the way, you waive all your instrinsic rights as human beings and citizens of [Enter Country Here] by agreeing to this document." It seems to be pretty fairly common practice for all sorts of companies. This time, however, I don't feel particularly inclined to complain or have the energy to care about it right now.
Enjoy.
---------------
The Broken Compass
There's no laughter I wish to find,
No confusion about the world,
No findings about the universe,
To make the toes begin to curl,
There's no order to my process,
No random to the entropy,
Simply a blanketing disappointment,
Boiling out from inside of me.
I reflect upon beginnings,
Of the inherent properties,
That became nothing more than nursery rhymes,
Of the phantom moralities,
And yet should this broken compass,
Pointing different for child and man,
Directs the quills staining legal parchment,
Without intentions for its hand.
Tell me when the identity,
Like caterpillars, grew their wings,
As butterflies, from the chrysalis flew,
Into a world of dif'rent things,
When did the sacred commandments,
And the intrinsic wrongs and rights,
Cease to be, ever again, recognized,
And cease our fires from burning bright.
---------------
By the way, I realize I told you guys that there would be another music review on here. I just wanted to take a moment to say the following: Be patient. It's coming. I plan to try to address that this weekend.
Also, tune into the ongoing adventures of Dalmar this weekend as we discover another chapter in his quest to return to Draftengil and exact his long-awaited his vengeance against the evil wizard, Xander. Only in my other blog, Bucholera! Will he make it? Who can tell? Tune in!
Invino Veritas
8/19/11 (Happy Birthday, sis!)
EOF
Thursday, August 11, 2011
Earthless - Live At Roadburn (2008): A Review
It's a chilly, rainy day in Missylvania as the winds that drive the storm crackle overhead and break through the effervescent sky of divine pipe smoke. The asthmatic breath of the gods point everything ninety degrees to the southeast, and I, without an umbrella, dash the ten feet through the howls of weather to quickly unlock my car door and hurl myself into the front seat. The general plan is to do this without getting too soaked, but that is just a pipe dream and I hit the seat, scoot upright with added motion in my hips, and slam the door behind as a monstrous gust beats at my driver side window like a horde of banshees beating at the the stone walls of Blarney Castle. I am soaked. The droplets of water drip from my bangs and onto my shirt as I turn the key and the cold AC, still on from yesterday's ride, blasts me in my face sending tiny daggers of ice through my veins as it whips across the water on my arms and face. "There's got to be more to life than this" I think to myself as I push the partially visible compact disc hanging from the player into its slit and watch it disappear. Perhaps I'll be lucky this time. Perhaps not. I close my eyes for a brief moment as if the added mental effort on my part might sway the spirits of earthly probability to allow this small gem of gold foil and lacquered plastic is alongside prayed to produce some cheerful sound to accompany my drive to work. No such luck. I shall only be beckoned by the droning laughter of the rain and wind, the splashing of the cars as I pass them and they pass me on either side of the white lines barely visible in the storm.
I walk into work twenty-seven minutes late due to poor visibility and the ire of a front that is still mad at mankind for not sacrificing a virgin at midnight perhaps. Hell, I don't know, but I'm really sick of having to drive in this rain at this point. This time it cost me money, and all I wanted to do was disappear into my work, and escape for a while on some dreamy current of music, textured velveteen with the knowledge that it would be a while before I had to venture back out in the elements. I slipped into my chair with nary a word, turned on my computer, and immediately put on my headphones. I flicked the switch on my external hard drive contianing all the music I owned in the world, sixty gigs stretched across a spinning platter lik a pizza pie made of the wreckage of a world war II bombing squadron. What was I in for? Who could tell. I had made a concerted effort recently to pick up some new music, and was eager to try some of it out. I discovered a record label, TeePee records, that had a bunch of neat bands with names like Black Math Horseman and Ancestors. "Earthless. Hmm. Okie dokie. Bring it on, Earthless." I said to myself as I started the first track of the album "Live at Roadburn". There were only two songs on this album which wasn't really an oddity for some of these bands to whom I had listened. Often these indy labels put out EPs of live shows and whatnot. What ensued after that mouse click was nothing short of ninety minutes of groovy and about seven or eight inches past 'Damn.'
Earthless was exactly what I needed this morning. The first track, Blue / From The Ages, began with a warm welcoming of the crowd at the 13th annual Roadburn fest in 2008. Earthless, didn't waste any time, however, as Isaiah Mitchell's feedback ladened whine of sustain broke the air and hung there like a bumblebee caught in an updraft and smoking a phatty while watching Max Headroom sing Merry Christmas, Santa Claus. I couldn't really tell you where either of the two songs started, ended, or came together. Unlike so many jams, the beauty of Earthless isn't at the joining of two ends a la The Allman Brothers Band, but rather the journey between multiple destinations amongst the stars of a universe painted with multiple effects and rawness of the dusty, woody tone of Mitchell's trip across the cosmos. As note after note swirls about the others in aeruption of harmonic ether. each rhythm, each variation of rhythm seems to break through like a sentient piece of baker's dough kneading itself in a tumbling dryer of existential discovery. I begin to see exactly why they call themselves Earthless. They are not simply a 'jam band' though I've only run across one song of their's that's under 7 minutes long and has words, and that's a cover tune.
Just happy to be along for the ride is the bouncy tone of Mike Eginton just outside the background of Mitchell's serenade piercing the black void ahead like a comet, holding his pilot just a few inches above the complementary tides of drum after drum sent forth by Mario Rubacalba, Earthless' mad scientist that broguht the elements together. But in the end, you have to ask yourself, "Does the monster bend to the will of the scientist, or does the scientist bend to the will of the monster?" Through fifty-six minutes of greased lightning and blazing solar furnaces of stoner rock, the listener's ear are wrapped around a variety of intermingling rhythms backboned by Rubacalba and Eginton, and fat, meaty accompaniments architectured by Mitchell's Silver Surfer -esque unravelings. During this time and with a hardly a otice, I replaced the LCD in a notebook computer. I had reached my goal. I escaped the trying frustrations of my corner of the universe. I, indeed, had become quite, well, earthless myself.
All was not cherries and popsicles, however. Now, there's nothing bad about this album, but after fifty-six minutes, I realized why I didn't own a lot of jam bands in my musical repertoire. Jam bands are like porn in that it's just not fun anymore after about an hour. I need a bit more conclusion, summarization, or even finality in my life. Well, if not in an existential sense, then atleast in context of my music. Perhaps my appraisal would be different if I hadn't made a particular effort to listen to every portion of this album today. After all, this is the kind of album you put on in the background during a cokout with your friends and just let it hang in the background like a weather baloon made of awesome, pulsing just enough to occaionally catch someone's attention to appreciate it. I really like this album. But I can't sit for 90 minutes and listen to two songs, unless I have something to affect my sense of time to the point that time flies by or my mental functions completely drag like sliding down an incline made of caulk. In this, Earthless is no Allman Brothers, Rubacalba is no Gregg Allman, and Mitchell is no Duane Allman. But they are pretty damned good in their own right. Comparing the two isn't fair, though, as that's really comparing oranges and bike tires. Yeah, they are both round, but that's really about it. I could compare them to, maybe, some of the Widespread Panic jams, but then that just leaves me wondering 'Widespread who?'. But that wouldn't be fair to Earthless, right?
Alas, I digress.
Earthless Links:
Earthless @ MySpace
Earthless @ Wikipedia
Gravity Records
TeePee Records
Earthless @ Last.fm
Enjoy.
Invino Veritas
8/11/11
EOF
I walk into work twenty-seven minutes late due to poor visibility and the ire of a front that is still mad at mankind for not sacrificing a virgin at midnight perhaps. Hell, I don't know, but I'm really sick of having to drive in this rain at this point. This time it cost me money, and all I wanted to do was disappear into my work, and escape for a while on some dreamy current of music, textured velveteen with the knowledge that it would be a while before I had to venture back out in the elements. I slipped into my chair with nary a word, turned on my computer, and immediately put on my headphones. I flicked the switch on my external hard drive contianing all the music I owned in the world, sixty gigs stretched across a spinning platter lik a pizza pie made of the wreckage of a world war II bombing squadron. What was I in for? Who could tell. I had made a concerted effort recently to pick up some new music, and was eager to try some of it out. I discovered a record label, TeePee records, that had a bunch of neat bands with names like Black Math Horseman and Ancestors. "Earthless. Hmm. Okie dokie. Bring it on, Earthless." I said to myself as I started the first track of the album "Live at Roadburn". There were only two songs on this album which wasn't really an oddity for some of these bands to whom I had listened. Often these indy labels put out EPs of live shows and whatnot. What ensued after that mouse click was nothing short of ninety minutes of groovy and about seven or eight inches past 'Damn.'
Earthless was exactly what I needed this morning. The first track, Blue / From The Ages, began with a warm welcoming of the crowd at the 13th annual Roadburn fest in 2008. Earthless, didn't waste any time, however, as Isaiah Mitchell's feedback ladened whine of sustain broke the air and hung there like a bumblebee caught in an updraft and smoking a phatty while watching Max Headroom sing Merry Christmas, Santa Claus. I couldn't really tell you where either of the two songs started, ended, or came together. Unlike so many jams, the beauty of Earthless isn't at the joining of two ends a la The Allman Brothers Band, but rather the journey between multiple destinations amongst the stars of a universe painted with multiple effects and rawness of the dusty, woody tone of Mitchell's trip across the cosmos. As note after note swirls about the others in aeruption of harmonic ether. each rhythm, each variation of rhythm seems to break through like a sentient piece of baker's dough kneading itself in a tumbling dryer of existential discovery. I begin to see exactly why they call themselves Earthless. They are not simply a 'jam band' though I've only run across one song of their's that's under 7 minutes long and has words, and that's a cover tune.
Just happy to be along for the ride is the bouncy tone of Mike Eginton just outside the background of Mitchell's serenade piercing the black void ahead like a comet, holding his pilot just a few inches above the complementary tides of drum after drum sent forth by Mario Rubacalba, Earthless' mad scientist that broguht the elements together. But in the end, you have to ask yourself, "Does the monster bend to the will of the scientist, or does the scientist bend to the will of the monster?" Through fifty-six minutes of greased lightning and blazing solar furnaces of stoner rock, the listener's ear are wrapped around a variety of intermingling rhythms backboned by Rubacalba and Eginton, and fat, meaty accompaniments architectured by Mitchell's Silver Surfer -esque unravelings. During this time and with a hardly a otice, I replaced the LCD in a notebook computer. I had reached my goal. I escaped the trying frustrations of my corner of the universe. I, indeed, had become quite, well, earthless myself.
All was not cherries and popsicles, however. Now, there's nothing bad about this album, but after fifty-six minutes, I realized why I didn't own a lot of jam bands in my musical repertoire. Jam bands are like porn in that it's just not fun anymore after about an hour. I need a bit more conclusion, summarization, or even finality in my life. Well, if not in an existential sense, then atleast in context of my music. Perhaps my appraisal would be different if I hadn't made a particular effort to listen to every portion of this album today. After all, this is the kind of album you put on in the background during a cokout with your friends and just let it hang in the background like a weather baloon made of awesome, pulsing just enough to occaionally catch someone's attention to appreciate it. I really like this album. But I can't sit for 90 minutes and listen to two songs, unless I have something to affect my sense of time to the point that time flies by or my mental functions completely drag like sliding down an incline made of caulk. In this, Earthless is no Allman Brothers, Rubacalba is no Gregg Allman, and Mitchell is no Duane Allman. But they are pretty damned good in their own right. Comparing the two isn't fair, though, as that's really comparing oranges and bike tires. Yeah, they are both round, but that's really about it. I could compare them to, maybe, some of the Widespread Panic jams, but then that just leaves me wondering 'Widespread who?'. But that wouldn't be fair to Earthless, right?
Alas, I digress.
Earthless Links:
Earthless @ MySpace
Earthless @ Wikipedia
Gravity Records
TeePee Records
Earthless @ Last.fm
Enjoy.
Invino Veritas
8/11/11
EOF
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
Devilishly Departmental: A Farce
[Scene I: The Throneroom]
[Satan is awaiting Agent 666]
[Enter Agent 666]
Agent 666: Father, the demoness Lilith awaits you in her cavern.
Satan: Excellent, my son. Maybe THIS time she'll have created a being evil enough to serve
in my armies outside the boundaries of my domain.
Agent 666: Perhaps if you hadn't taken away her intelligence...
Satan: Don't question me, thrull! It was necessary to keep her at bay! We can't have
powerful being just wandering the cosmos willy-nilly. That'd be silly!
Agent 666: But father, don't you wander the cosmos, and aren't you powerful?
Satan: Why, sure, but I'm usually back before 6:30 each night. The Australian version of
Baywatch comes on at 7:00. Can't miss that, you know!
Agent 666: Well, that's kind of hypocritical, don't you think?
Satan: What part about 'DEVIL' don't you get? I thought the [mockingly] powerful and craft
Antichrist would be able to fathom THAT idea at least!
Agent 666: Yeah, yeah. [Mockingly quoting Satan] D plus evil spells you, I get it it already.
[Makes a masturbatory gesture] But how in the pit is hypocrisy evil?
Satan: Because I said so! I am Satan. It comes with the job. He gets to decide what is good,
and I decide what is evil.
Agent 666: That doesn't make something evil. Things are evil not because they are declared
to be evil, but rather because they have an inrinsic property of being evil.
Satan: Enough already! [Mumbling] Kid thinks I don't know evil!
Agent 666: Well, whatever. Lilith is waiting.
Satan: Why don't you go to the lake of fire and play? I'll walk myself to Lilith's cavern.
Agent 666: I would probably take off those bunny slippers first. It doesn't really do much for
your credibility as the Prince of Darkness.
Satan: [Looking] Oh, hmm. You may be right. [Pauses] On the other hand, that's what
makes it SO evil! I'm so evil, I make MYSELF look bad! [Laughs maniacally]
Agent 666: [Rolling his eyes] I'd better stay and help you find your way. You might end up in
New Jersey again, and I don't want to listen to you bitch for another century.
Satan: Well, New Jersey was just AWFUL. You don't know what it's like.
Agent 666: Father? Lilith?
Satan: Right. Lead on.
[Exit Satan and Agent 666]
[End of Scene I]
[Scene II: The City of Dis]
[Satan and Agent 666 are walking through the city on their way to Lilith's cavern]
Agent 666: If you want to get to Lilith's anytime soon, we can't stop in EVERY brothel
in Hell on the way.
Satan: Why the Hell not?
[Enter Orcus]
Orcus: Satan! Great to see you! How are you?
Satan: Orcus, ole' buddy! How excellent to see you. How's Glasya? Still ugly as ever?
Orcus: Getting uglier everyday!
Satan: And little Agox?
Orcus: Uglier than Glasya!
Satan: Great! Too bad you're such a handsome devil! [Laughs with Orcus]
Agent 666: Good to see you again, Master Orcus, but we're on our way to Lilith's. I'm sorry,
but we really must be going....
Satan: Oh, pshaw! We've got plenty of time. Besides, I haven't seen Orcus since Munich
1972.
Orcus: Actually, I'm in a hurry as well. Just saw ou guys and wanted to say hello. I'm on my
way to pick up some brimstone for the missus. We're a bit low.
Satan: Ahh, well, in that case, we'll be on our way.
[Enter Mephistopheles]
Mephistopheles: Satan, you old bastard, how are you!?
Satan: Mephistopheles! Older than you, you whippersnapper you!
Mephistopheles: And twice as pretty!
Satan: How else can I convince your mom to turn around?
[Each erupt in laughter]
Mephistopheles: Orcus, my old friend, and how are you? Still peddling magic tricks to
children on All Hallow's Eve?
Orcus: Yeah, we've been recruiting pretty heavy this year.
Mephistopheles: Excellent! Get 'em while they're young!
Orcus: Exactly. Candy is such a great reinforcer.
Mephistopheles: [Looking at Satan's slippers] Nice slippers, chief.
Agent 666: I told you, father!
Satan: They are evil bunny slippers. Can't you tell? Orcus and I were just talking about
how evil these things are just a few moments ago, weren't we, Orcus?
Orcus: Oh, yeah, definitely. Evil. That's it. Right down to the core. Mmmhmm.
Mephistopheles: [Guaging Satan and Orcus' intentions] Oh, you two! Damn tricksters!
You really must join me sometime. You can usually find me at The Bloody Mic
down on 3rd and Souless Way. I do a bit there on Wednesday nights.
Orcus: Sounds great!
Satan: That sounds like fun, old friend!
Agent 666: Yes, yes, but as for NOW, we really must be going....
Satan: I'm afraid the boy's right, fellas.
Orcus: Me too. Great to see you guys. Catch you on the flipside. [Exit Orcus]
Mephistopheles: Actually I was just on my way to shoot some ducks with the little
demoness. Great to see you again, Satan.
Satan: Always a pleasure.
[Exit Mephistopheles]
Agent 666: Finally, we can get on our way!
Satan: Pipe down before I cause an Alluvian Spider's egg sac to erupt inside your
eyeball again.
Agent 666: That was NOT funny.
Satan: Oh, but it was funny. Just ask the slippers. [Wiggles the slippers making the
bunny ears flop]
Agent 666: Anyways, we're late. Come on.
Satan: Right-O!
[Exit Satan and Agent 666]
[End of Scene II]
[Scene III: Lilith's Cavern]
[Lilith. the mother of all demons, awaits Satan while dancing and listening to
Cyndi Lauper's Girls Just Want To Have Fun]
[Enter Satan and Agent 666]
Satan: ....and THAT is where I hid Hoffa's body.
Lilith: [Startled; Turns off the music] Your majesty!
Satan: Ahh, Lilith! So fine that I should gaze upon your disgusting features once again.
[Kisses her cheek]
Lilith: Oh! Your majesty!
Satan: Agent, I believe I can handle things now. Go find something to kill, but be back
by six.
Agent 666: Umm, ok. [Bows to Lilith]
[Exit Agent 666]
Satan: Now, what have you created for me this time? Another agent, I hope?
Lilith: [Twitching nervously] Yes, sire, another agent. Behold....[Gesturing]...Agent 665!
Satan: Agent 665? You DO realize that we had passed that number already?
Lilith: Yes, your majesty. I thought since you were so adamant about using 666 the first
time that you might want to start at 665 this time because, well, you know, you
skipped it last time.
Satan: I also skipped zero through six-sixty-four. Do you plan to screw up 664 more
times?
Lilith: Perhaps the sire would care to see some its features? [Claps her hands]
Satan: Holy shit, Lilith! My god, that's huge. Was that really necessary to put that on
there?
Lilith: Yes, it was absolutely necessary, sire.
Satan: Well, ok for now, but I want that shrunk a few inches by the final draft.
Lilith: Yes, sire.
Satan: Ok, what else you got?
Lilith: Four spring rolls, a few grimoires, and a complete collection of Cyndi Lauper
records from 1983 to the present.
Satan: No, I mean what else can this thing do? [Mumbling] Dumbshit.
Lilith: Oh! Yes, of course. Well, Agent 665 is pyrokinetic, electrokinetic, psychokinetic,
telekinetic, and can use the entire spectrum of light to see if it chooses.
Satan: [Sarcastically] Oh, well THAT's useful. Finally, someone who can choose not to
be able to detect anything and everything.
Lilith: [Mumbling, speaking quickly] and hehasgreatstamina....
Satan: What?
Lilith: Hmm?
Satan: [Dismissing Lilith's comment] Well, [Sighs] I guess you can send it over tomorrow.
But if it isn't evil enough this time, I'm afraid we'll just have to have you mulched
and spread over the death flowers in the great hall.
Lilith: As you wish, sire.
Satan: In the meantime and since we ended early...[Snaps his fingers]
[Fade to Black]
Lilith: Sire? Are those bunny slippers?
[Begin song Just A Gigolo by David Lee Roth.]
[End Scene III]
[End Act]
Invino Veritas
8/9/11
EOF
[Satan is awaiting Agent 666]
[Enter Agent 666]
Agent 666: Father, the demoness Lilith awaits you in her cavern.
Satan: Excellent, my son. Maybe THIS time she'll have created a being evil enough to serve
in my armies outside the boundaries of my domain.
Agent 666: Perhaps if you hadn't taken away her intelligence...
Satan: Don't question me, thrull! It was necessary to keep her at bay! We can't have
powerful being just wandering the cosmos willy-nilly. That'd be silly!
Agent 666: But father, don't you wander the cosmos, and aren't you powerful?
Satan: Why, sure, but I'm usually back before 6:30 each night. The Australian version of
Baywatch comes on at 7:00. Can't miss that, you know!
Agent 666: Well, that's kind of hypocritical, don't you think?
Satan: What part about 'DEVIL' don't you get? I thought the [mockingly] powerful and craft
Antichrist would be able to fathom THAT idea at least!
Agent 666: Yeah, yeah. [Mockingly quoting Satan] D plus evil spells you, I get it it already.
[Makes a masturbatory gesture] But how in the pit is hypocrisy evil?
Satan: Because I said so! I am Satan. It comes with the job. He gets to decide what is good,
and I decide what is evil.
Agent 666: That doesn't make something evil. Things are evil not because they are declared
to be evil, but rather because they have an inrinsic property of being evil.
Satan: Enough already! [Mumbling] Kid thinks I don't know evil!
Agent 666: Well, whatever. Lilith is waiting.
Satan: Why don't you go to the lake of fire and play? I'll walk myself to Lilith's cavern.
Agent 666: I would probably take off those bunny slippers first. It doesn't really do much for
your credibility as the Prince of Darkness.
Satan: [Looking] Oh, hmm. You may be right. [Pauses] On the other hand, that's what
makes it SO evil! I'm so evil, I make MYSELF look bad! [Laughs maniacally]
Agent 666: [Rolling his eyes] I'd better stay and help you find your way. You might end up in
New Jersey again, and I don't want to listen to you bitch for another century.
Satan: Well, New Jersey was just AWFUL. You don't know what it's like.
Agent 666: Father? Lilith?
Satan: Right. Lead on.
[Exit Satan and Agent 666]
[End of Scene I]
[Scene II: The City of Dis]
[Satan and Agent 666 are walking through the city on their way to Lilith's cavern]
Agent 666: If you want to get to Lilith's anytime soon, we can't stop in EVERY brothel
in Hell on the way.
Satan: Why the Hell not?
[Enter Orcus]
Orcus: Satan! Great to see you! How are you?
Satan: Orcus, ole' buddy! How excellent to see you. How's Glasya? Still ugly as ever?
Orcus: Getting uglier everyday!
Satan: And little Agox?
Orcus: Uglier than Glasya!
Satan: Great! Too bad you're such a handsome devil! [Laughs with Orcus]
Agent 666: Good to see you again, Master Orcus, but we're on our way to Lilith's. I'm sorry,
but we really must be going....
Satan: Oh, pshaw! We've got plenty of time. Besides, I haven't seen Orcus since Munich
1972.
Orcus: Actually, I'm in a hurry as well. Just saw ou guys and wanted to say hello. I'm on my
way to pick up some brimstone for the missus. We're a bit low.
Satan: Ahh, well, in that case, we'll be on our way.
[Enter Mephistopheles]
Mephistopheles: Satan, you old bastard, how are you!?
Satan: Mephistopheles! Older than you, you whippersnapper you!
Mephistopheles: And twice as pretty!
Satan: How else can I convince your mom to turn around?
[Each erupt in laughter]
Mephistopheles: Orcus, my old friend, and how are you? Still peddling magic tricks to
children on All Hallow's Eve?
Orcus: Yeah, we've been recruiting pretty heavy this year.
Mephistopheles: Excellent! Get 'em while they're young!
Orcus: Exactly. Candy is such a great reinforcer.
Mephistopheles: [Looking at Satan's slippers] Nice slippers, chief.
Agent 666: I told you, father!
Satan: They are evil bunny slippers. Can't you tell? Orcus and I were just talking about
how evil these things are just a few moments ago, weren't we, Orcus?
Orcus: Oh, yeah, definitely. Evil. That's it. Right down to the core. Mmmhmm.
Mephistopheles: [Guaging Satan and Orcus' intentions] Oh, you two! Damn tricksters!
You really must join me sometime. You can usually find me at The Bloody Mic
down on 3rd and Souless Way. I do a bit there on Wednesday nights.
Orcus: Sounds great!
Satan: That sounds like fun, old friend!
Agent 666: Yes, yes, but as for NOW, we really must be going....
Satan: I'm afraid the boy's right, fellas.
Orcus: Me too. Great to see you guys. Catch you on the flipside. [Exit Orcus]
Mephistopheles: Actually I was just on my way to shoot some ducks with the little
demoness. Great to see you again, Satan.
Satan: Always a pleasure.
[Exit Mephistopheles]
Agent 666: Finally, we can get on our way!
Satan: Pipe down before I cause an Alluvian Spider's egg sac to erupt inside your
eyeball again.
Agent 666: That was NOT funny.
Satan: Oh, but it was funny. Just ask the slippers. [Wiggles the slippers making the
bunny ears flop]
Agent 666: Anyways, we're late. Come on.
Satan: Right-O!
[Exit Satan and Agent 666]
[End of Scene II]
[Scene III: Lilith's Cavern]
[Lilith. the mother of all demons, awaits Satan while dancing and listening to
Cyndi Lauper's Girls Just Want To Have Fun]
[Enter Satan and Agent 666]
Satan: ....and THAT is where I hid Hoffa's body.
Lilith: [Startled; Turns off the music] Your majesty!
Satan: Ahh, Lilith! So fine that I should gaze upon your disgusting features once again.
[Kisses her cheek]
Lilith: Oh! Your majesty!
Satan: Agent, I believe I can handle things now. Go find something to kill, but be back
by six.
Agent 666: Umm, ok. [Bows to Lilith]
[Exit Agent 666]
Satan: Now, what have you created for me this time? Another agent, I hope?
Lilith: [Twitching nervously] Yes, sire, another agent. Behold....[Gesturing]...Agent 665!
Satan: Agent 665? You DO realize that we had passed that number already?
Lilith: Yes, your majesty. I thought since you were so adamant about using 666 the first
time that you might want to start at 665 this time because, well, you know, you
skipped it last time.
Satan: I also skipped zero through six-sixty-four. Do you plan to screw up 664 more
times?
Lilith: Perhaps the sire would care to see some its features? [Claps her hands]
Satan: Holy shit, Lilith! My god, that's huge. Was that really necessary to put that on
there?
Lilith: Yes, it was absolutely necessary, sire.
Satan: Well, ok for now, but I want that shrunk a few inches by the final draft.
Lilith: Yes, sire.
Satan: Ok, what else you got?
Lilith: Four spring rolls, a few grimoires, and a complete collection of Cyndi Lauper
records from 1983 to the present.
Satan: No, I mean what else can this thing do? [Mumbling] Dumbshit.
Lilith: Oh! Yes, of course. Well, Agent 665 is pyrokinetic, electrokinetic, psychokinetic,
telekinetic, and can use the entire spectrum of light to see if it chooses.
Satan: [Sarcastically] Oh, well THAT's useful. Finally, someone who can choose not to
be able to detect anything and everything.
Lilith: [Mumbling, speaking quickly] and hehasgreatstamina....
Satan: What?
Lilith: Hmm?
Satan: [Dismissing Lilith's comment] Well, [Sighs] I guess you can send it over tomorrow.
But if it isn't evil enough this time, I'm afraid we'll just have to have you mulched
and spread over the death flowers in the great hall.
Lilith: As you wish, sire.
Satan: In the meantime and since we ended early...[Snaps his fingers]
[Fade to Black]
Lilith: Sire? Are those bunny slippers?
[Begin song Just A Gigolo by David Lee Roth.]
[End Scene III]
[End Act]
Invino Veritas
8/9/11
EOF
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