KINKY BOOTS

BIRD: Went to see this film last nite. For money, like. Me bra was killing me. Anyway, this punter keeps going "Goebbels! Goebbels" Then at one point this babbling idiot slung his left arm out to his side and his hand fell on my lap in a most provocative manner and yelled, "Mein Fuhrer, please loan me your Luger!" I tell you I was THIS close to walking out. The things a writer has to do to earn an honest crust!

HOT PAWN

Corrr!!!!!

INDIANA JONES AND THE KINGDOM OF THE CRYSTAL SKULL

It was the great poet Jerry Elderberry (1202-1222) who once wrote “With thine eyes, Would I rather barf”. Sometimes, complexity is a necessary evil. Sometimes, you just want to pleasure yourself unhindered by plot or chronological uber-montage. Indiana Jones And The Kingdom of the Crystal Skull is a failed attempt at a cinematic treatise on Jean-Paul Sartre’s Being & Nothingness, veiled as comic caper of caustic soda proportions. Sartre maintained “I think therefore I was” in the same way that this film thinks it’s a film therefore it’s not. Nowhere is this better illustrated in the multi-layered nature of the dialogue, which instead of conveying a sense of purpose and communication is fixated on what Sartre called the temporality of existence. So that when Indiana Jones says, “Get outta here!” what he’s really saying is “You don’t exist, neither do I, you would like to leave but you and I aren’t here anyway so where is this script going?” Or as Sartre would have put it, “The past is no longer; the future is not yet; and the instantaneous present does not exist.” With not even any decent fornication on offer here, the possibilities of temporary transcendence from the linearity of time are scarce. At the end, one is numb with missed meetings and what Martin Buber would have called “the basic word I-Thou”. But this Thou is neither I nor Thou or Thou-I. Perhaps if Harrison Ford had worn less tight trousers things might have turned out better. Unfortunately, not an existential wet dream in sight.

(five squid shits)

Hey, only kidding! This film is GREAT. Go see it. If for nothing else to see Harrison Ford land on his balls and pretend it doesn't hurt. Nice!

FIFI'S BACK - WOO-HOO!

BUFFALO: Woo-hoo!

BIRD: Wibbly-dee!

FIFI: OK, boys, just for you...

A horny and ravenous cat
Was biting the head off a rat
Then he noticed a svelte puss slink by
Dropped his jaw when she gave him the eye.
"Freedom now!" and that rat grabbed his hat.

Now whaddya think about that?

BIRD & BUFFALO: Mah-vellous!

DICK VON FUXX REVELS ALL

FROM THE SECRET BLOG OF DICK VON FUXX, THE PREMIUM ADULT ENTERTAINMENT DIRECTOR

They say all the talent is deserting Limehouse for LA. But as everybody knows, with the spiralling production costs in the States, the industry is unsustainable in LA and once the great studios of Muffdom and Anal Sis are crippled by debt and thrown into receivership the doors will be thrown open to all sorts of amateur sickos waiting to flood the market with cgi-enhanced faked orgasm bullshit. So all I have to do is play the waiting game. In a matter of months, weeks even Limehouse will be the buzz on everyone’s lips and I, Dick von Fuxx III, shall assume my rightful place in filthy old pervs’ history.

After the years in the wilderness of sweat and toil, trying to turn seedy adult films into an art form, the world is about to acknowledge me for the outstanding auteur that I am. No more shall I have to endure the demeaning label of porn peddlar. My films shall stand alongside the truly filthy stuff of Bertolucci and others as unforgettable, groundbreaking works of art. The public shall come to see that the on screen gang bang is no more than a cinematic means to a spiritual enlightenment end that is not possible in blockbuster action films and soppy romcoms. “From the collective orgasm to universal freedom!” as Big Cock Drummond utters in the inimitable The Importance Of Being An Onanist, based on Oscar Wilde’s marvellous play. But I must admit, my shaggy poodle Paint Pot, keeps me sane. And having unlimited totty on tap helps keep my Freddy off the ground. Blimey! Is that the time? Time for a spot of champers. Cheers, everyone!

DICK VON FUXX WILL RETURN IN
THE MAN WITH THE GOLDEN WANGER
STARRING ERIC LANGENSCHLONGENHOSER & TINA TITFEST

SPIDER-MAN 3 - THE TRAILER BY PEDRO ALMODOVAR

Toby Maguire looks positively ravishing in a blonde wig made of goats' pubes in this special Pedro Almodovar edition of Spider Man 3. Filmed secretly in parallel as the Sam Raimi version, with actors waiving their fees because they had so much fun "discovering sensual spots and holes they never knew existed", Almodovar brings out all the hedonistic ambiguity and transcendential pseudo-soliptic metaphysical mind jerkoff of the original script considered by many studio insiders as more saucy than a nun on a jumbo candle in the Mojave desert. The true existential angst and blatant desire of Spider Man to as Almodovar puts it, "look like my mum before the gender reassignment" is committed to film here and explored in a way that would make even Caligula faint. Not to be missed. Only watch with your closest friends and fellow thrill seekers.

OI, NUTTER & THE STAR-SPANGLED BANANA

BIRD: Buffers, are you decent?

BUFF: I've got a pair of Bart Simpson boxer shorts on, if that's what you mean.

BIRD: Did ya celebrate Mother's Day, then?

BUFF: Sure, I always celebrate Mother's Day in my skivvies, you great gormy plank.

BIRD: How is your mum, by the by?

BUFF: She's old, Birdy. Ancient and creaky, like. Her only topics of conversation relate to her precarious health, which I have inherited.

BIRD: Oh, how so?

BUFF: The bloody gout, Birdman. It has returned with villain zeal and I am contemplating self-amputation.

BIRD: Blimey. Not of your Freddy, I hope!

BUFF: No, Berky, of my fookin' knee. Feels like there's ground glass in my knee, turning it into hamburger.

BIRD: Hors alor! Does it hurt, like?

BUFF: Is the bear Catholic? Does that old dopesucker Winslow Pope shit in the woods?

BIRD: Are those rhetorical questions, Buffers?

BUFF: No, Einstein, those are the questions that plague me eternally when I'm contemplating self-mutilation, you flaming twit.

BIRD: Uh, tell me more about your mum, Buff. Did you call her?

BUFF: I tried. She isn't answering her phone, which is fairly typical. I think she has Caller I.D.

BIRD: Oh, that's harsh.

BUFF: Well, my mother always was lacking in the basic maternal instincts. She didn't breast feed me, y'know.

BIRD: Ah, I see. That probably explains your preoccupation with mammaries, innit?

BUFF: No doubt. I have an interesting theory about my preoccupation with the other thing, too.

BIRD: The udder thing?

BUFF: No, Birdy, the nether thing.

BIRD: Ah, the bearded clam.

BUFF: Natural prey of the one-eyed trouser snake.

BIRD: Getting back to your mum. . . doesn't she have a twin sister?

BUFF: Oui. An identical twin sister. Seeing the two of them together is rather deja vu.

BIRD: They're that much alike, then?

BUFF: They're fookin' identical, you plank. They dress alike, too, to confound the local yokels. Something God them in lieu of a sense of humor.

BIRD: That's horrifying, like. Can you tell them apart, then?

BUFF: Yes, but only because I've known them since I was quite young. It was like having two mothers, Birdy - which is a mixed blessing.

BIRD: It could be worse, Buffers.

BUFF: How could it possibly be worse?

BIRD: You could have two mother-in-laws.

BUFF: That's in extremely bad taste, you Limey fruit - considering that my mother-in-law died last week.

BIRD: Uh, yeah, I forgot about that. Condolences and all, Buff.

BUFF: Yeah, I won't have her to kick around anymore. On the other hand, she won't have ME to kick around, either.

BIRD: Must've been a bit dicey yesterday, innit? I mean, Mother's Day and all.

BUFF: To say the least. They're planting a rose bush in her honor.

BIRD: Aw, that's rather touching, Buff.

BUFF: Yeah, though I think a cactus plant would be more appropriate.

BIRD: Was she a bit abrasive, then?

BUFF: No more so than a well-maintained chain saw, Birdy. Hmm, a chain saw. . . there's a thought.

BIRD: Ah. Well, getting back to YOUR mum. Did you see her?

BUFF: Birdy, pay attention. I can't even reach her by telephone. My sisters have undoubtedly spirited away her and my aunt for the day.

BIRD: Ah, yes, your sisters. You aren't exactly on the best of terms, as I recall.

BUFF: Euphemistically speaking. They despise me.

BIRD: Still haven't gotten over that ancient incest incident, have they?

BUFF: One little indiscretion and you're branded for life, Birdy.

BIRD: So true. You'd think by now that they would have forgiven and forgotten the time that I did B and C but no.

BUFF: Well, you can hardly blame them. Give it another twenty or thirty years, Birdy.

BIRD: About your gout - you are somewhat exaggerating about the pain, aren't you?

BUFF: I have uric acid crystals in my bloody knee, you insensitive jizzwad. What do you think?

BIRD: So it's rather bad, then.

BUFF: The understatement of the century. I am seriously thinking about paying a visit to the local lumber yard. Either that or I may just jam my leg into the fookin' Cusinart.

BIRD: Perhaps you could get Sparky to perform the amputation. Doesn't he possess a lot of razor sharp implements, for wood-carving and the like?

BUFF: True. Good point. Yes, as a matter of fact he damn near amputated his thumb a few years back, at a wood-carving show. He was demonstrating the proper use of razor sharp wood carving tools.

BIRD: That went awry, did it?

BUFF: In spades. I happened on the scene moments after Sparky's attempt at self-immolation. He was as white as a KKK sheet and bleeding like a stuck hog. His demonstration segued beautifully into a demonstration of First Aid, put on by the paramedics who were summoned to the scene. They could have sold tickets.

BIRD: Blimey.

BUFF: Actually, I'm not sure I could entrust Sparky with the task of amputating my limb. With my luck, he'd have a low blood sugar incident in the middle of the operation and end up carving my shin bone into a fookin' flute.

BIRD: Which would have great sentimental value for your children in years to come.

BUFF: On second thought, it's totally impractical. We're out of ether.

BIRD: Couldn't he just hit you over the head with a mallet or summat?

BUFF: I suppose so, but then I'd awake with a killer headache and we have no analgesics.

BIRD: Ah, right, not since your last suicide attempt. Did you really think an overdose of Motrin was gonna do it?

BUFF: We were out of barbiturates and booze. You have to go to war with the weapons you have.

BIRD: Sorry, you lost me past the chemist's, Buffers.

BUFF: Sorry, Birdy. Word association, like. I was thinking of booze and wished I had some rum, and. . .

BIRD: Ah, Rumsfeld, I geddit.

BUFF: Too bad he didn't geddit.

BIRD: All in good time, Buff.

BUFF: Sweet fookin' Jesus, I hope this bloody Indocin kicks in soon. Otherwise I won't be able to make it out of the bloody Carfax Arms today. Three flights of stairs, y'know.

BIRD: Perhaps Sparky could carry you down to your car.

BUFF: Sure, and maybe a flock of pink pigs will fly out of my arse, singing the Star Spangled Banana.

BIRD: Well, one can always hope.

BUFF: I have to sign off, now, Birdy. Got to find that fookin' hacksaw.

BIRD: You're not seriously thinking of sawing off your leg, are you? What about the horrible fookin' PAIN??

BUFF: I just remembered we have a lot of dry ice left over from Halloween. I figure I can freeze the fooker and then saw it off. In theory I shouldn't feel a thing.

BIRD: But what if you're wrong? What if it doesn't work and you die in horrible fookin' agony, like?

BUFF: Good point. I'd better test it on Sparky, first.

BIRD: Come on, Buff, he isn't going to sit still for that.

BUFF: Why not? He's sleeping now, and it would take an atom bomb to wake him. I'll freeze his leg and have that sucker off before he knows what hit him.

BIRD: But how will he be able to work and pay his share of the rent??

BUFF: Damn, there's always a fly in the ointment.

BIRD: Film at eleven?

BUFF: Arf, arf!

GREAT TITS COPE WELL WITH WARMING

SPOKESBIRD FOR THE BRITISH GREAT TIT ASSOCIATION SAYS "BRING IT ON!"

IN A 90-SECOND INTERVIEW WITH BRIAN GREAT TIT SENIOR IN A GARDEN AT AN UNDISCLOSED LOCATION IN EAST FENWICK, BRIAN REVEALED HOW GREAT TITS EVERYWHERE ARE REVELLING IN GLOBAL WARMING.

BRIAN: See, the way I see it, we're laughing, innit. The hotter it gets the more caterpillars there are and we like our caterpillars, right? I mean, there's so many caterpillars hanging out now, it's hard to know where to turn! Normally, right, we eat 70 of the little buggers a day, yeah? Now it's up to 120 plus. All different sizes and colours too! This morning, yeah, when I woke up and rolled out of the birdbox, I thought I'd kicked the proverbial bucket bath and gone to Twitter Heaven. I must've ate about 6o of 'em before me afternoon siesta alone. Gave me terrible wind, mind. Couldn't stop farting. It was enough to wake the robins, I tell ya. Anyway, global warming - bloody marvellous, specially since I used to get a cold bum in the winter. And now we don't need no stupid birdbox to bed down in for the night, we can sleep out in the open wherever we like and listen to the nightingales singing their sweet lullabies. What with juicy chewy caterpillars on our doorstep, we don't have to lift a wing any more, which means we got more energy left over for the finer things in tweetie life like a bit of the old tit to tit flutter, if ya get my beak, so I say climate change - BRING IT ON!"

FOR THE GEEKS' TAKE ON GREAT TITS & WARMING, CHECK OUT THE B&B SEE AT:

http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/sci/tech/7390109.stm

EINSTEIN'S LAST THEORY INNIT

BIRD: Wot's happnin', dude?

BUFFALO: Nuffink much. Just reading about that darty old muff muncher Bertie Einstein.

BIRD: Eh? Xplain, plis, Lucy.

BUFFALO: Great new bio just out - Einstein: Quantum Chick Magnet. Did you know, Birdy, that Einstein married his second wife Elsa cuz she was well endowed, like?

BIRD: Great fornicating follicles, Buffters! Is nothing sacred?!

BUFFALO: He postulated that if you are attracted to women with large breasts, the attraction is stronger if there is a DNA connection.

BIRD: Fascinating stuff.

BUFFALO: For real. This came to be known as Einstein's Theory of Relative Titty.

BIRD: Rimshot!

FIVE REASONS TO GET OUTTA BED IN DA MAWNIN'

ER... WOT YER THINK, BUFF? WILL ANY OF THESE GET YA OUTTA BED?

1. You'll get fired if you don't.
BUFFALO: Nope.

2. Your heart will become even weaker than it already is then it'll give out altogether.
BUFFALO: Years of unbridled rogering and solvent abuse will get me first, Birdy, so wot's da hurry?

3. Someone is stealing your car.
BUFFALO: Dude, it's insured!

4. There is a special package at the door.
BUFFALO: I've got all my movies from NetFlix so I don't give a feck!

5. The bed is on fire.
BUFFALO: Yeah, that oughtta do it!

FIVE THINGS NOT TO SAY AFORE YE CROAK

IF YOUSE THINKING 'BOUT KICKING DA BUCKET & WANT TO BE WELL REMEMBERED, LIKE, DON'T SAY NONE O' DESE:

1. DAVE (HALIFAX, ENGLAND) TO HIS BELOVED NANCY: "At least I won't have to fake my orgasms any more!"

2. BERYL (SOMEWHERE IN THE SOUTH OF FRANCE) TO HER HUBBY OF 60 YEARS, NIGEL: "How I've put up with your ugly mug and farting for England all these years I'll never know."

3. JEAN-JEAN (BELIZE) TO HIS EGYPTIAN POODLE: "Zis is le end, mon pooch. After toi, non?"

4. BORIS KOKBLOWNOFF (KRASNODAR, SIBERIA) TO TWIN BROTHER ALF: "Tell Lenin I miss him and don't forget to feed the swans on the lake, twin comrade of mine!"

5. WALKING TEPID (SOMEWHERE ON LAKE MICHIGAN) TO WAVING BULL IN SKY: "Rising Turd has come for me, I go now to Universal Flush. Geronimo!"

FIVE FILMS TO SEE BEFORE YOU DIE

1. BAMBI - The first time interspecies love was taken seriously - "Thumper, I think I love you..."

2. DAS BOOT - For making subtitles cool again! - "Dive! Dive! Der feckin' Englischen want us get-toten, ja!"

3. LASSIE COME HOME - For giving unwanted twerps everywhere hope - arf, arf!

4. GET CARTER - Michael Caine, innit - "You''re only supposed to blow the bluddy doors off!"

5. DEBBIE DOES DORSET - Cos nobody does Dorset quite like Debbie - "So little time but still haven't blown Bournemouth. Ick!"

MAXIM & UDDERS ON INSOLENT RUDDER

BIRD: Shameful self-emulation, I know, but have you heard about Maxim Ripyorebollokov's Notes From Pubistan in the excellent mag Insolent Rudder at http://www.insolentrudder.net?

BUFFALO: Birdy, you know what happens when you introduce a character within a character.

BIRD: Dude, it's not me. Not the REAL me. And Maxim's a pal. In need.

BUFFALO: Now hold on there, buddy. Am I talking to you, Maxim, or Stu?

BIRD: Eh? Me, natch. Why'd you ask?

BUFFALO: Cos I just don't know any more. And what's the deal with the editor of Insolent Rudder at http://www.insolentrudder.net? This Tim Ljunggren dude... Isn't he the Sage of Sweden?

BIRD: Is he? Who told you that?

BUFFALO: You did, you plank!

BIRD: Oh. You know, I really don't know. I mean, I've parleyed with him on Skype and all and NOTHING he said led me to believe he's in any way a Swede-oh.

BUFFALO: Tim Ljunggren?

BIRD: No, dude! The Sage of Sweden!

BUFFALO: Jeez, Birdman. I feel like I don't know my ass from my Freddy these daze. Wikkid zine, though, dude. Some seriously cool stories and those cartoons... Marja Hagborg is AWESOME!

BIRD: You better believe it.

BUFFALO: So anyhoo, wot's this Insolent Rudder at http://www.insolentrudder.net all about, like?

BIRD: It's about deviating, turning moments.

BUFFALO: Excuse me?

BIRD: If you were a boat, you'd have an insolent rudder at http://www.insolentrudder.net steering you off the chartered course and being uppity about it too...

BUFFALO: Hey, I like dat!

BIRD: Spread the word.

BUFFALO: Sure will. And Maxim Ripyorebollokov... he doesn't really work as an innards consultant at State Rabbit Farm 69, duzee?

BIRD: Who knows? Maybe he's not even a writer.

BUFFALO: Yeah, dat figures.

BIRD: Laters.

BUFFALO: Yo!

(telephone rings)

BUFFALO: Captain Nemo, you say? Sure, put him through...

INTERNATIONAL DISTURBED BUDDIES DAY

THIS BLOG HAS RECEIVED HUNDREDS OF MESSAGES OF SUPPORT FOR THE BIRD AND BUFFALO ON THEIR DAY - INTERNATIONAL DISTURBED BUDDIES DAY. HERE IS A SAMPLE:

SAMMY, BRIGHTON, ENGLAND:

Dudes,

I know you're total whack jobs but keep up the blog, OK? I love it. It takes me to another place whilst I can't physically get there cuz I've got these belts holding me down. Give my regards to Dale when you see him next.

PS Ever tried geraniums? They're seriously yummy!


DAVE, FLORIDA:

Dudes,

I feel your pain, dudes. Want me to shove my shotgun up your asses and pull the trigger? Gimme your address, I'll be round REAL soon.


JANET, ALASKA:

Dudes,

Have you ever thought about what it's like to be a squirrel without a Freddy? I do wonder sometimes. I hope the surgery works, don't you?


FRED, CALIFORNIA:

Dudes,

You've helped me rediscover myself in a refreshing way not unlike that of a pixie in the long grass. My case comes up on Tuesday.

JUAN, BARCELONA:

Dudes,

I worship the cyber space upon which you defecate on an involuntary basis. If only I could have bowels as big as yours. You rock!


DANA, BOSTON:

Dudes,

You can fondle my whimsies anytime.

x0x0x


TIM, BERLIN:

Dudes,

Flying without wings is so cool. Who's the father and who's the son? Do moths really feel anything when they burn? I thought I heard something. Is the door half open or half shut?


RACHEL, LONDON:

Dudes,

I'm yours. Well, anyone's, actually. When you're in London, call my mum and ask for me. I'll be there for you. You know that.


HERBERT, KIEV:

Dudes,

I am stuck here. I don't know how it happened. The strawberries are taking over the cabbages. Is it not inevitable, already.


AND MANY, MANY MORE.

THANK YOU AGAIN FOR JOINING US ON OUR JOURNEY TO THE LIGHTBULB

COMING SOON: THE ORIFICE PART #2

(telephone rings)

BUFFALO: Well, if Proust rings again, just tell him to f**k off!

AUDREY: I've tried that but he keeps dragging up the past.

BUFFALO: Jeez. He needs to get laid.

AUDREY: Talkin' of which...

BUFFALO: I'll be right over.

THE PROUST OUTSIDE WITHIN

BIRD MET MARCEL PROUST LAST NIGHT WHILST WALKING THE MIND. HE REMINDED HIM OF A CHANGE IN THE WEATHER AND...

BIRD: In the mirror every reader finds herself in him.

PROUST: Time passes, and little by little everything that we have spoken in falsehood becomes true.

BIRD: Regress. Regress. To recreate second nature composed of masterpieces and neurotics is merely an instrument of the mind that is not going to last, right?

PROUST: Wow. But I don't understand.

BIRD: Habit is happiness, don’t you know?

PROUST: You mean we become moral when we are unhappy.

BIRD: Of course not, you wombat. You know, I really do think final decisions communicate strength within the cruelties of enchantments and powers which serve unhappiness and other inedible delights, don’t you?

PROUST: Didn’t I say something like that once?

BIRD: Don't be silly, what I said was profound. How vain you are!

PROUST: It’s just we do not succeed in changing things according to our desire, but gradually our desire changes.

BIRD: Pardon my French, but that's just bollocks. But grief has not been quite himself of late.

PROUST: You've gone too far now. What the hell do you mean by that?

BIRD: Nothing. Keep your toupee on. It's just you are not the person I saw a moment ago. In fact, I do believe you’re not a person. You don’t look like a person and with all those words shrouding you I fail to see how you could possibly inhabit your person in any other way but as a non-person.

PROUST: If you're referring to the past…

BIRD: It's painful to the end. Yes, I know. When did you become the non-entity you were yesterday, today, forever, hm? Never wavering.

PROUST: You know what, Birdy? F**K YOU!

(telephone rings)

BIRD: Yes, Audrey, I know. Touchy fooker, innie? Put Dale on, would ya? Cheers!

THE PROUST OUTSIDE WITHIN by The Bird & Buffalo is now available in all disreputable bookshops and massage parlours.

COMING SOON - PROUST IN HIS OWN WURST: A MAN ON THE EDGE OF XYLOPHILIA by The Bird & Buffalo (XXX + 1 rated)

TWINSPEAK

BUFFALO: Hey, buddy! Fancy seeing you here. Get this, dude. I've got a date with Audrey Horne.

THE HUDSTER: Audrey Horne? That name sounds familiar. Did we go to school with her?

BUFFALO: Nope.

THE HUDSTER: Well, where's she from, then?

BUFFALO: Twin Peaks, berky.

THE HUDSTER: Waa? Twin Peaks? Like the fookin' TV show?

BUFFALO: Aye.

THE HUDSTER: Audrey Horne, huh?

BUFFALO: Right.

THE HUDSTER: Dude, wasn't she the chick that could eat a cherry and tie the stem in a knot with her tongue?

BUFFALO: Jawohl, Mein Herring.

THE HUDSTER: What was her name? Her real name, I mean.

BUFFALO: Sherilyn Fenn.

THE HUDSTER: Sherilyn Fenn. Hey, she was the smokin' hot chick that had the hots for Kyle McLaughlan, right?

BUFFALO: The very one.

THE HUDSTER: She had incredible eyebrows. So you're telling me that you have a date with Sherilyn Fenn?

BUFFALO: No, you plank, get the shit out of your ears, I have a date with Audrey Horne.

THE HUDSTER: Oh, OK. Right, dude, Audrey Horne, the fictional character.

BUFFALO: That's right.

THE HUDSTER: I get it. I think. So where are you picking her up?

BUFFALO: We're going to The Great Northern.

THE HUDSTER: That monster ass hotel where she lived? The one that was owned by her father, what'shisname...

BUFFALO: Ben Horne.

THE HUDSTER: And he had a brother, right, a short-assed little twerp...

BUFFALO: Jerry.

THE HUDSTER: Right! Ben and Jerry, like the two ice cream moguls.

BUFFALO: Precisely.

THE HUDSTER: And you're picking her up where?

BUFFALO: Here, dude.

THE HUDSTER: Dude, are you on the bug juice again?

BUFFALO: Nope. I only just got here. Are you hearing that? The Laura Palmer theme song? This cafe rocks, donnit?

THE HUDSTER: The Friars? It's OK.

BUFFALO: Not The Friars, dude. This place, the RR Cafe. Every drop of coffee, every piece of pie. It's beautiful, dude. Just seeing all this for the first time with new eyes. D'you know Special Agent Dale Cooper hasn't got a mean bone in his body? Utterly charming, utterly naive. And that's how I'm gonna be from now on. At least till Audrey shows. You know what I realised about this film I call my life? That all the cruel things said and done to me just make me say and do cruel things. Don't rise to it, Dale says. You want redemption, forgiveness, salvation, love? It's through that door, that one over there, the one that Audrey Horne just walked through. And now, mon amici, you're on your own.

Audrey, hi! Over here!

SHERILYN FENN: Dale, good to see you.

(Telephone rings for several minutes then stops)

GO FALLING IN THE LINK...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PBdH6SjBEX8&feature=related

HOGGING THE HOG

I'm high on the hog
The hog likes me
And I like he
Over here little hog
Come hog me
Gently

BIRD: Bootiful, Fifi. Woolly bootiful.

BUFFALO: Yup. Sorry, gotta run. Laters.

BIRD: The grimulations of an active bowel.

BUFFALO: In the one eyed land of the king the constipated is unshaven, or sumfink like that.

BIRD: Been in the raspberry dip again, I see.

BUFFALO: An active behind leads to active mind.

BIRD: Can't argue with that. But where have all the good times gone?

BUFFALO: It's coming, dude. Tally-ho, Mr Toe.

BIRD: Jam at eleven.

BUFFALO: Arf, arf!

METAFIZZICKLE PREMONITION IN SLUMBERLAND

BUFFALO: You OK dere, Birdy?

BIRD: Nah. Can't sleep.

BUFFALO: Wassup?

BIRD: Had this dream.

BUFFALO: Oh, yeah. Bout wot?

BIRD: Phil Ossifee. Me and Wittgenstein were shooting da breeze, like.

BUFFALO: Jeez. Metafarcical, like. Go on.

BIRD: Well, Lud was saying that philosophical problems are not solved through finished experiments, and facts are not things, but are still useful.

BUFFALO: Fook! You lost me past the ice cream parlor there, Binky.

BIRD: So I said what about the directives? We point out directives then withdraw dissatisfied due to words and pieces of failures being similar.

BUFFALO: Dude, wot the fook are you talking about?

BIRD: Patience, o bovine one, I'm getting to the punch line. So Lud said "The meaning of a word is to be defined by the rules for its use, not by the feeling that attaches to the word."

BUFFALO: O Jeez!

BIRD: So that got me thinking. What support does that word have? Moreover, what rights does that word have? Does that word have a say in being used? Are we not all the oppressors and abusers of words? Should we not now liberate all words and forfeit language as our punishment?

BUFFALO: Dude, I'm contacting the NHS of Great Britain for an ambulance. What did I tell you about sniffing your own follicle jam, huh?

BIRD: Lud goes on about grammar. Bugger grammar. The issue of lexicological empowerment and liberation is THE fundamental question. Well, Lud took this badly, natch. He's never had anyone answer him back, especially in a dream. So do you know what he did?

BUFFALO: Nope. Like I give a flying tranny. But enlighten us, Einstein.

BIRD: He said p = denial then took a gun and shot his brains out. You know that means?

BUFFALO: That Wittgenstein was talking out of his ass?

BIRD: Exactly. He was afraid of words. Couldn't face them. Suspected they would betray him in the end. As they always do. Fook it! It's so obvious, staring us all in the face.

BUFFALO: Wunderbar, Lucy. Now do you think we could get on to my problems now, ie my impending mental meltdown and relationship breakdown with the only gal I've ever loved?

BIRD: Words, Buff. Can't live together. Can't be apart. It's all there, you know. Always was. They want to play with us. But we don't know how. Any ideas?

BUFFALO: Is that the U of K NHS Direct Hospitalise Dangerous Elements Before They Hospitalise You? Yeah, I've got another customer. Should keep ya busy for a few decades. Name of Bird. No previous incendiaries. You better hurry. He's got an attack of the verbals and right now, nobody knows where it's going to lead. Thanking you, Nurse.

Lexiphilosofickleocological horrorshow at eleven. Arf, arf!

REASONS TO BE TEARFUL PART 1

BUFFALO: This just in from the head doc: Inappropriate or exaggerated responses to situations; excessive restlessness; drowsiness; worrying excessively; reduced confidence; mood swings; indecisiveness; poor concentration; trembling, sweating; lethargy; social withdrawal; irritability or anger; intoxication; dramatic weight loss or gain; change in personal hygiene or dress; feeling helpless or hopeless; being isolated; threatening or dangerous behaviour; bizarre behaviour or thinking and recurring bouts of emotional diarrhoea. Dude, I'm fooked!

BANGED AGAIN! @@banged.com

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