by Larry Doyle
all this has taken some getting used to. Free-range fruits and vegetables are okay, I guess, if you get to them not too long after they’ve hit the ground, but I do miss eggs and milk and cooked food, and I know this will sound odd, but I miss the chance to wash my clothes. And while I’ll admit it is safer to walk in the woods since they banned hunting, and it’s much easier to save money now that it’s worthless, the fact is, you can’t walk on the grass anywhere anymore, and it’s downright dangerous to go to the zoo. So then,
I suppose if I had known
then
what I know now,
well then,
I guess I would have never signed that petition.
Recent Supreme Court Decisions
Court Under Roberts Is Most Conservative in Decades
—New York Times
The justices ruled 6–3 that “professional intuition” is sufficient cause to prompt a search of persons or property. The Court upheld the constitutionality of a “blanket search warrant” issued in 2010 by a federal judge in Texas authorizing the search of the residence or vehicle of “any persons answering to the names Angel, Enrique, Juan, Manuel, Pedro, Jesus, or Ramon.”
By a 5–4 majority, the Court voted to further narrow Roe v. Wade, upholding an Idaho law granting women unrestricted access to abortion “except in those cases in which the woman is pregnant or the abortion will somehow impair her ability to become pregnant in the future.”
Voting 7–2, the justices ruled that children under the age of eighteen have “only those rights conferred upon them by the state, or their parents.” The case stemmed from a February 2009 incident in which the principal of an Austin, Texas, grade school conducted full body-cavity searches of twenty-seven third-graders in an attempt to locate a missing chalkboard eraser, which was never found.
Reversing California’s high court, the justices voted 6–3 to reinstate the disorderly conduct and resisting arrest conviction of Laurence S. Williams, who was apprehended by the California Highway Patrol after “making voodoo eyes” at one of its officers. The decision was moot, however, as Williams was released following the state court’s action and subsequently was shot and killed attempting to leave the scene of a double-parking incident.
Freezer Madness
Quick-fix artists are now in a frenzy over guns. But let’s be honest and recognize that the overriding issue isn’t really gun control.
—Former vice president Dan Quayle, blaming school shootings on a lack of prayer in schools, a liberal legal system, and a popular culture “that transmits counterculture values”
Cherry Garcia, Wavy Gravy, Phish Food, Dave Matthew’s Band Magic Brownies
—Flavors of Ben & Jerry’s Ice Cream that are sold to children and named for the late hippie singer, the hippie clown, the marijuana-loving hippie band, and marijuana-laced pastries, respectively
Damien Thorn needed a fix. He had had another hard day at William J. Bennett High School, where his more popular classmates had again teased him about his long hair, blue jeans, and out-of-step political views. Damien felt like screaming. For ice cream.
At 4:50 p.m., the impressionable sixteen-year-old entered the Piggly Wiggly supermarket in Heartland, a tightly knit midwestern community. He went straight for the grocer’s frozen food section.
He stared down the endless, gleaming freezer, his young eyes glazing over. There were dozens of flavors to choose from, and no one to tell him that any one flavor was the “right” one. Vanilla, chocolate, strawberry? Traditional flavors, he sneered, for squares.
He pulled out a container. Bovine Divinity: Milk chocolate ice cream and white fudge cows swirled with white chocolate ice cream and dark fudge cows.
“Cows are gods,” he chuckled. “Cool.”
Damien peeled up the cover and plunged his finger deep into the intermarried chocolate and vanilla. He sucked his finger, savoring the creamy anti-Christian message. Almost immediately, he felt a tingling in his brain. He tossed the opened container back into the freezer, having no intention of paying for it.
He opened the next container: Brownie vs. the Board of Education. Delicious.
The sugar and fat were giving him a definite “buzz” now, and he began pawing through the cold metal shelves, promiscuously touching, tasting…
Karamel Marx, Lenin Meringue, Julius and Ethyl Rosenberry… Next row, next row.
Fudge Blackmun’s Roe v. Walnuts, Godless Chocolate Cake, Morsel Relativism, Plumiscuity…
More, more, no limitations…
Greenpeach, Gum Control, Pro-Gay Agenda Swish, Creamy Sex Education in Schools with Free Condom Swirl…
Oh, sugar, sugar! Oh, honey, honey…
Up Against the Wall, Fluffernutters! The Revolution Will Not Be Caramelized! Chill Your Parents!
Damien sat in the middle of the aisle, splayed legs, frostburned fingers, three dozen pints of immoral mess oozing around him. He grinned stuporously, his pupils ricocheting like Mexicans scurrying across the border.
Then he saw it.
He crawled into the case, clawing at the one remaining, iceencrusted container. Still inside, he scraped the frost away with his thumbnail:
THE WORLD’S BEST VANILLA
“Vanilla ice cream made with pure vanilla extract.” A laugh escaped and hung in the frozen air. So perfect, so pure. And heavy, he noticed. And hard.
At 7:53 the next morning, Chip White, the star quarterback of the WBHS Values, was standing at his locker, ministering to some members of the cheerleading squad, when he did not notice a wildeyed Damien Thorn approach him from behind, raise above his head a blue cylinder with the now all-too-familiar psychedelic lettering, and Hello, we’re Ben and Jerry, and we really must protest at this point. We know what the author is trying to do here, and we don’t like it one bit. To our knowledge, no Ben & Jerry’s prepacked pint has ever been used in the commission of a first-degree murder. And, we cannot state more emphatically, we do not condone this use of our product. Also, and not to nitpick, but most of the flavors referenced above are not and never were available for sale in supermarkets, but only in our 350 franchise scoop shops across the country.
As to the larger issue, let us reiterate that the link between premium ice cream and violence is tenuous at best. Millions of teen Americans enjoy our fresh, delicious ice cream regularly and do not go on rampages of any kind. Recent legislative efforts to place age limits on the consumption of Ben &Jerry’s will, we believe, drive children to consume subpremium ice creams high in chemical preservatives and pumped full of air, as was common during the Vietnam War, with potentially tragic results.
At Ben & Jerry’s, we make premium ice cream from only the finest natural ingredients and pure Vermont cream, and do not support the violent overthrow of the United States government at this time.
Pop Corps
Some of Hollywood’s top action filmmakers—men behind such octane-fueled thrillers as “Die Hard” and “Delta Force One”—are helping the U.S. Army dream up possible terrorist threats America might face in the future and how to handle them.
The counter-terrorism brainstorming sessions are the latest focus of the Institute for Creative Technologies, formed in 1999 at the University of Southern California to develop advanced training programs for the Army, institute officials said Tuesday.
“The group looking at counter-terrorism is really an extension of the kind of efforts we’ve been doing for about two years,” one institute official said. “The benefit of the entertainment group is that they think more creatively. They think outside the box.”
—Variety
Brig. Gen. Alan Spangler presided. In attendance from the entertainment community were: Sandy Duckler, film producer (Thrill Kill, The Last Jihad, The Fragging of Lieutenant Chapman, Where’s the President?); Hanna Amann, screenwriter (Executive Privilege, Diplomatic Immunity, Breach of Protocol); Joshua Patrick Stern, screenwriter (My First Girl, Dennis the Menace IV: The Pubescence, Carnispore); McBoog, commercial, music video, and film director (Mon
key Fist, Iron Toes, The Razor’s Kiss); Capri Sunset, television writer-producer (Mutanauts, X-Mammals, Junior Mutanauts). Sitting in the back were Mr. Turner and Mr. Cooper, button salesmen from Langley and Quantico, Va., respectively.
Gen. Spangler welcomed the participants and complimented them on their patriotism. He said this initial meeting was to be a “bull” or “brainstorming” session, that there were no right or wrong scenarios, and that everyone should feel free to pitch their edgiest stuff. Mr. Duckler asked, “Who do I have to [orally copulate with] to get a latte around here?”
After coffee was delivered, Gen. Spangler again solicited terrorist scenarios.
“What if,” Mr. Stern began, “the bad guys got a hold of a small device, fits in the palm of your hand, which can knock out everything electronic—cars, planes, kidney machines—within a mile radius?”
“An electromagnetic pulse device?” Gen. Spangler asked.
“Right,” Mr. Stern said. “I couldn’t think of the name.”
“Need to raise the stakes,” Mr. Duckler said. “Make it a hundred miles.”
“A mile is plenty,” Gen. Spangler said. “And how would you power such a device?”
“I was thinking, some kind of ancient sacred ruby,” Mr. Stern said.
“We did that on Mutanauts,” Ms. Sunset said.
“I don’t watch Mutanauts,” Mr. Stern said. “I’ve never watched the show.”
Gen. Spangler asked the participants to please move on.
“Just blue-skying.” Ms. Amann suggested a scenario in which a “Black Muslim, angry but not unrelatable, meets a mysterious Arabic woman at an Islamic social function.”
“Will Smith and Eva Mendes,” Mr. Duckler suggested. Mr. Stern pointed out that Ms. Mendes is Cuban. Mr. Duckler felt that it was racist to think Ms. Mendes could not play other minorities. “Do they have to be Muslim?” wondered Mr. Stern. “That feels played out to me.” Mr. Duckler thought that perhaps Ms. Mendes could play a radical lesbian separatist. That’s what ruined Mr. Duckler’s remake of Casablanca, Mr. Stern opined. Mr. Duckler then assessed Mr. Stern’s professional credentials in disparaging and profane terms. Mr. Stern stood, and appeared to be about to climb across the conference table when he was subdued by two MPs and escorted from the room.
Gen. Spangler asked Ms. Amann to please continue with her scenario.
Mr. Smith’s character falls hard for Ms. Mendes’s, Ms. Amann explained, but then he begins to suspect she is a member of a rogue sect bent on bringing down the entire U.S. government.
“On Valentine’s Day,” Ms. Sunset proposed.
“Puts a clock on it and gives it heart,” agreed Mr. Duckler. “Sleepless in Seattle meets Jagged Edge or Basic Instinct, or Sliver or Jade. I can deliver Eszterhas.”
“He’s dead,” said Ms. Amann.
“He was a dear friend,” said Mr. Duckler.
“Anyway,” Ms. Amann continued, Mr. Smith’s character “must decide whether his love for this one-woman harem [Ms. Mendes] and his hatred of institutional racism ultimately outweigh his patriotism for the land of his birth.”
“Maybe his father died fighting for his country,” Gen. Spangler suggested.
“Maybe,” Ms. Amann responded.
“I like it,” Gen. Spangler said. “But what exactly is the Valentine’s Day plot that Will Smith has to thwart?”
“They usually bring in the Wibberleys for that,” Ms. Amann responded. “I do the relationship [material].”
Gen. Spangler rebriefed the group on the purpose of the session, requesting that they leave aside for the moment who might be behind such actions and focus on the mechanics of the actions themselves. “Everything follows from character,” Ms. Amann responded. “You’re going to end up with a Michael Bay movie.”
“I’m not good at pitching,” Ms. Sunset apologized, “but, anyhoo, just, well, here I go, my idea: Evil genius, Muhammad Allah Ding-Dong, Fu Manchu, whoever, is releasing these videotapes, which of course CNN, MSNBC, everybody is airing ad nauseam, right? Turns out he’s hypnotizing everybody, so it’s the first game of the World Series, we’re all singing ‘Star-Spangled Banner’—and the home of the braaaave… That’s the trigger: Suddenly everybody wants to kill the president of the United States. Two hundred million people, Congress, even the Secret Service…”
“Except,” Gen. Spangler interjected. “Except the one agent who’s too stupid to be hypnotized.”
“Steve Carell!” Mr. Duckler suggested. Ms. Amann cited a recent Entertainment Weekly interview in which Mr. Carell stated his desire to leave “dumb guy” roles behind. “He’s an American, isn’t he?” Mr. Duckler responded, then told Ms. Sunset to definitely call him after the meeting.
“One goddamn second,” Gen. Spangler said. “I was the one who came up with the key comic conceit. Without the dumb guy there’s no movie.”
Mr. Duckler began to lecture Gen. Spangler on “how this business works” but was interrupted when three MPs dragged him from the room.
After a short silence, Mr. McBoog spoke for the first time. “I always wondered,” he said, “What would happen if It could be something as simple as or maybe .”
The meeting was adjourned. Mr. McBoog was asked to stay behind.
How to Handle Your Money
Go to the bank and get all of your money. Accept only uncirculated singles. Come home. Lock doors and windows, unplug phones and appliances, and place electrical tape over sockets.
Draw the blinds. Put on latex gloves.
Place bills face down. With a Magic Marker, black out the Eye of Horus above the Masonic pyramid. Fill in the oval completely.
Secure your money, avoiding obvious spots such as under mattresses, behind paintings, up your or your spouse’s anus, in cookie jars, etc. Suggested hiding places:
• Spread out in a single layer behind the wallpaper
• Colored with crayons and taped to refrigerator
• Folded and frozen into ice cubes
• Sewn inside dog
Spread your money across several different locations, keeping all of them in sight at all times. Stand with your feet eighteen inches apart, knees slightly bent, ready to spring in any direction.
Remain very still.
Thank You for Considering My Cult
You picked a great day to visit. We have meat on Sundays.
Meat! Meat! Meat! Meat!…
Ignore those guys. They’re nuts. C’mon, let me show you around. I think you’re going to love it here.
If you don’t mind, could I ask how you heard about us? It wasn’t Nightline? That Cynthia McFadden, oh boy. She draws you into those dreamy green pools of hers, and next thing you know you’re saying all sorts of bizarre crap. Creepy, how she does that.
Don’t step in that bejeweled area. I spat there once and some consider it “sacred ground.” They’d kill you before I could stop them.
So you know, then: we are the Mighties of David, after the ragtag band of warriors the giant-slayer assembled to battle the Elders of Zion. I’m David, but not that David. It’s just a happy coincidence.
Hey, Eleazar, Son of Dodai! One of my top Mighties, this fella, in charge of explosives and root vegetables. You can shake his hand, perfectly safe. We do all our own prosthetics here; our guy, Abishai the Extremity Maker, did the arm for the first Terminator. Those knuckles are fully articulated, by the way. Don’t worry; it won’t crush you.
Okay, broad strokes: We’re a democracy up here. How we do that is we achieve a consensus through me, which I pronounce and it’s written in stone, then tossed on the Pile of David. Bigger stone means bigger law. A few of the biggest: Tithing is 80 percent, before agency commissions; sexual activity is permitted, pending my availability on a first come first served basis; and, well, those are the two big ones.
Over in this area are the sleeping pits, and right next to that is the prayer/jerk circle—still a couple open spots if you’re interested, right next to Benaiah the Grub Hunter or Jashobeam the Ant Pi
per, or you could squeeze in between Shammah the Sin Eater and Zalmon the Body Cleanser, sons of Anthony Quinn, the Zorba the Greek.
Well, maybe later then.
Okay, those tents, right to left: latrine, abattoir, showers, canteen. We’ve got to get some signs up. And down there, through those trees, you can see the lake where they shot the opening to the old Andy Griffith Show.
Ooh, sorry, didn’t see you, Eliphelet! Of all of my Mighties, all of whom would give an arm or a leg, none have given as much or as generously as Eliphalet the Frequently Chosen.
You just sort of tug on his ear.
Our beliefs? You know, it’s funny; most people don’t even ask that. Pretty basic. We’re fighting the Elders of Zion, who control the means of production through wickedness and vertical integration. That’s why we’re ideally situated up here in the hills; we can make sorties at will against Paramount to the south and Disney and Universal in the Valley; Fox and Sony are less than a day’s march. Interesting note: this whole encampment was once owned by another king, King Vidor. And later by Sheila E. Frankie Muniz donated it when he joined. I’d introduce you, but he’s in the Enlightenment Box right now, learning the meaning of off the top.
Now, I don’t want you to get the impression that this is some sort of fantasy paradise. I mean, it’s a great space and this is the swellest bunch of guys, and gal. But we’re in an epic struggle here. This time it really is David versus Goliath. Thus, the pile of stones.
Meat … meat … meat…
They do love their meat. And they’ve earned it. Can you stay for dinner?
Wonderful. Listen, could you reach into this bladder and pull out a pebble?
It’s a tradition.
No, you’re our guest, you go first. Any pebble.
You got the red one! And on your first try.
Meat!… Meat!… Meat!… Meat!…