Sunday, November 29, 1992

"I'll be Stalking You"

(to the tune of Sting's "Every Breath You Take")

When you take a nap, when you take a crap
When you take a break
When you grill a steak, I'll be stalking you
Every single day and every word you say
Recorded every day!
Call the cops on me
Get in your car and flee
I'll be stalking you
Oh can't you see I must make you bleed?
How my poor heart aches to stab you with a rake!
One day you will be gone, lost without a trace
I dream at night
Of making you erased
My telescope reveals your frilly lace
The police can’t find my secret hiding place
You can’t escape my cold, deranged embrace
Oh can't you see that you can’t be saved?
How my poor heart aches for your unmarked grave!
Your restraining order
Hurt my feelings, babe!
So you’re scared of me?
You think I’m a creep?
I’ll be stalking you
The voices in my head
Say you must be dead!
You can change your name
You can change your face
Move to outer space
I’ll be stalking you

Comedian's note: Yeah, yeah. I know. A song from the first POV of a psycho stalker. Yeah, the laughs just keep coming. T'aint funny, McGee. Well it is to me. Gallows humor is my default setting.

BTW, I actually like Sting. Just saying this particular song of his has always given me a serious dose of the creeps. Also can't help noticing how many of my friends, of both the XY and XX chromosonal descriptions, have restraining orders their own designated stalkers.

Saturday, October 10, 1992

Pearl Jam Pizza

(to the tune of Pearl Jam's "Yellow Ledbetter")

In my fridge, I got a box of pizza

And it's been in there, maybe two
Maybe three, I don't know how many days
When I wake up, gonna have some pizza. Yeah.
Gonna eat it cold, or toss it in the microwave.
On second thought, I like it cold, yeah I love cold pizza.
When that pizza's kinda greasy, I know.
I said, I also like to heat it. I like that pizza cold or hot.
Either way. OK?

Yeah my girlfriend, she says don't eat that pizza
Yeah, that pizza's gonna kill you, that old Tombstone pizza
Gonna send you to an early grave.
That's what she said.

I said... Oh I don't think so. No.
I'd be dead already.
Gonna fire up a joint, and stuff that pizza in my face.

Ah yeah, do you like my dummy lyrics? Yeah, they don't make no sense.
But they rhyme and fit the music. Yeah.
And I know, and I know. I ain't got no shit to say!
But I say it anyway. Anyway! OK?
That's all I got to say.
That's all I got to say.
I don't... Don't wanna, oh... Yeah. Ooh... Ohh...
Insert some wisdom here!

Tuesday, July 21, 1992

The Rush Limbaugh Song

(to the tune of Stevie Nicks' "On the Edge of Seventeen")

Just like a right-wing thug …
Slings his shit
The shit he’s slinging
Rush, baby, Rush, baby, Rush
Just like a right-wing thug …
Slings his shit
The shit he’s slinging
Rush, baby, Rush baby, Rush

Heard his voice today
Yeah, I heard it all around me
Then I saw his face
On the TV screen
Like an ugly demon baby
Chomping on a fat cigar
All the dittoheads
Nodded in agreement


All that shit Rush said
It was hauntingly...
Like a voice from Der Sturmer
And the fist of Dean Wormer
Preaching to the choir
And man mammeries

Like jiggling pancake batter


Tuned in today... maybe will again...
Come to think of it … liberals really
Burning flags and
Marrying fags
Aborting fetuses and
Taxing guys like Rush!

I’ll vote Republican – and get a big fat tush!

I’m a dittohead! Now my brain
Has turned to mush!
I just love that shit he’s slinging …
Rush, baby, Rush, baby, Rush!

Wednesday, July 1, 1992

Nazi Track

Montage of American fitness fads.

ANNOUNCER: Today, more than ever before, people are looking for an exercise that will give them total cardiovascular fitness. 60 years ago, a group of people in Germany found it. We remember them today as Nazis.


Grainy black and white footage. Hitler screaming from a balcony.

HITLER: Seig heil! Ich bin ein schmeckle!

ANNOUNCER: Yes, in their desire to create a perfect race, the Nazis invented the perfect exercise. They called it "goose-stepping."

HITLER: Heil! Stompin-zie! Stompin-zie!

CROWD: Heil!

The crowd goes goose-stepping and seig-heiling down the street.

ANNOUNCER: Yes, of course, the Nazis laid waste to most of Europe and North Africa and killed millions of people in blind obedience to a psychotic, genocidal, cult of personality. But they were amazingly physically fit! Goose-stepping was the secret – as many people still know today!


Shot of crazed SKINHEAD, goose-stepping on broken bottles in his bare feet.

SKINHEAD: I do it all the time!


VALLEY GIRL goose-stepping around various angry people working out.

VALLEY GIRL: Yah. Goose-stepping's like totally the secret. It's bitchin! But like people get all bummed out when I do that?

MAN: Stop doing that! You stoopid Nazi bimbo!

TRAINER: Miss, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.

MAN: Yeah! See you later, Nazi!

Talking to the camera as the TRAINER gives her the bum's rush.

VALLEY GIRL: Like, I don’t even know what a Nazi is, whatever! I totally wish I could like to it in my living room!

ANNOUNCER: Well, now you can! With the all-new "Strength Through Joy" Nazi Track, you can enjoy all the cardio and strength benefits of goose-stepping, with the added range of motion of the "seig heil" salute!

Some FAT GUY is working out at the ridiculous NAZI-TRACK contraption. His legs are strapped into giant rubber boots that force him to goose-step. Another pulley device jerks his arms up and down in a perpetual "seig heil" salute.

ANNOUNCER: How does it feel?

FAT GUY: Great! I’m really pumped up! Can I get off now?


FAT GUY: I’m really tired! I think I’m having a heart attack. I want it to stop!


FAT GUY: Please make it stop!

ANNOUNCER: No! You will stop when we tell you to stop! (addresses camera with steadily growing German accent) The same applies to you! You fat American swine, sitting on your couch and watching television! You disgust me! This machine will make you strong, not weak like the others! Order now, you swine! Order now! The number is on your screen!

Caption reads:



Friday, April 17, 1992

Royal Shakespeare Dinner Theatre


RICHARD III strides onto stage and does his twisted, hunchback thing. Actor is Patrick Stewart type. Classically trained.

RICHARD III: Now is the winter of our discontent made glorious summer by this sun of...

Lights up. Loud noise. From stage right, a metallic dessert counter slides into place with a sound like a pneumatic snake. It almost crushes the actor. He leaps out of the way just in time.RICHARD III: ... a bitch!

STAGE MANAGER strides to center stage. Charming. In a Jon Lovitz kind of way.

AUDIENCE of extremely old people looks at him. Not charmed yet.

STAGE MANAGER: Merry, good ticket-buying people. Forgivest thee or thou this thy humble servant. Zounds. I hast forgotten yon dessert selection. Prithee, behold our multitudinous flavors of ice cream and Apple Betty. Forsooth, etcetera.

His ass-kissing wins them over. But the Shakespearean actor is pissed.

RICHARD III: Mine gorge doth rise.

STAGE MANAGER: The fault is in thine ass, not the stars. Dig in!

AUDIENCE flocks to the dessert selection like the rats eating the Ernest Borgnine character in Willard.

RICHARD III: What in the bloody hell are you doing?

STAGE MANAGER: Keep the people happy, OK?

RICHARD III: This is Shakespeare!

STAGE MANAGER: Shakespeare? Gee. You think so?

RICHARD III: Yes! The Bard himself!

STAGE MANAGER: Really? Aw, I'm not respectful enough?


STAGE MANAGER: Respectful? Pfft! Jesus, you stupid actors. Read a book sometime! The original Globe Theater had sword fights and coitus. In the audience! Now hit your mark, asshole! From the top!

Elizabethan music. The play must go on.

Open as before.

RICHARD III: Now is the winter of our discontent ...

OLD WOMAN: (in audience -- OS) Where's my Apple Betty?

RICHARD: III: Made glorious summer by this sun of...

OLD WOMAN: (OS) I didn't get my Apple Betty!

STAGE MANAGER: (OS) Behold, good woman! Thine Apple Betty appears with haste!

RICHARD III: York. And all the clouds that ... loured upon our house.

STAGE MANAGER: (OS) Ah, crap ...he unplugged it.

OLD WOMAN: I want my Apple Betty!

RICHARD III: In the deepest bosom ...

She climbs up on stage and confronts him.


RICHARD III: Grim-visag'd war hath smooth'd his wrinkled ... (looks at her) Apple Betty.

She glares at him.

STAGE MANAGER leaps on stage, hands her an Apple Betty.

She takes it.

STAGE MANAGER: Give the people what they want, asshole!

RICHARD III whips out rapier and stabs him.

The AUDIENCE applauds.

Tuesday, February 25, 1992

Attack of the Science Fiction Movie


Mariner 4 orbits, a light blinking. It crosses the terminator into darkness.

A light appears on the surface of Mars. Then fades.

Ominous Theremin music.


A FARMER looks out of his window at his barn. There’s a light inside. The cows are mooing madly.

FARMER: Goldurn kids!

Gets out of bed, grabs a shotgun.

FARMER: I’ll teach those dang punks to mess with my cows!


FARMER enters the barn. A hideous, gelatinous creature absorbs him.


More jellyfish-like blobs fall from the sky. Small at first. They ooze away like inchworms in all directions.


A proud MOM pushes baby carriage. GRANNY comes up to it.

GRANNY: Oh -- are you hiding your cute little baby? May I see? (lifts blanket)

A gelatinous bob leaps out of the baby carriage and eats GRANNY. MOM runs screaming.


KID hawking newspaper

KID: Extra! Extra! Nothing to fear!

A pseudopod shoots out of the sewer opening below him and drags him down inside.


A circle of cars looking down on a valley below. Big full moon. A car drives in, two teenagers inside.

ROY: Come on, Eve. Gimme some sugar.

ROY puts his arm around her. EVE pushes him away.

EVE: Knock it off, Roy!

ROY: Dang it Eve!

She runs out of the car, weeping. ROY looks around.

ROY: Hey. How come all the other cars is empty?

A gelatinous blob in the back seat eats him.


EVE runs into her home, weeping.

JACK: What’s wrong, sis? It’s that jerk Roy, huh? Did he put his paws on you?

EVE: He didn’t get a chance.

JACK: I’ll knock his block off!

EVE: No. It’s just adolescent hormones. That wouldn’t be rational.

OLD PROFESSOR: (OS) Spoken like a true scientist’s daughter.

They look up. He stands there, amused, puffing a pipe.

OLD PROFESSOR: Say, Eve. Speaking of which, I might need you at the Institute tonight. I'll let you hold my clipboard!

EVE: Wow! I'll hold your clipboard anytime!

JACK: What's going on?

OLD PROFESSOR: Well, son. We're still trying to figure out what. Sorta dropped on us from the sky, you might say. But something's up.

EVE: Something bad?

OLD PROFESSOR: No. Mighty interesting, you might say! If you like science, that is.

EVE: I sure do!

We hear a loud thumping sound.

JACK: Gee. Sounds like something in the basement. I better go down there all by myself and investigate.

OLD PROFESSOR: You better take this flashlight.

JACK: Thanks, dad.


Two SCIENTISTS at work. SCIENTIST #1 is the OLD PROFESSOR. EVE, now wearing a white lab coat, stands in the background holding a clipboard.

SCIENTIST #1 peers into a microscope.

SCIENTIST #2: Is it alive?

SCIENTIST #1: Yes and no. I don’t know. If it is, it isn’t life as we know it. I’ve never seen anything like it. In fact…I have a strange sensation it’s seeing me.

A pseudopod shoots out of the microscope eye piece and absorbs him.

EVE: Dad!

SCIENTIST #1: Sav -- (blob completely absorbs him) Mmblblbl.

EVE: What did you say?


EVE: I can't understand you!

SCIENTIST #1: Save yourself. I think he said "Save yourself."

SCIENTIST #2: Mmmbl! Mmmbblbl!

EVE: Dad?

Screams and sounds of destruction. (OS)

SCIENTIST #2: We've got to get out of here!

They run down the hallway. Blobs are attacking the Institute.

SCIENTIST #2: Come on! They're everywhere!

Still running down the hallway. Blobs are behind them. EVE sprains her ankle and drops her clipboard.

EVE: The clipboard!

SCIENTIST #2: Forget the clipboard!

EVE: I can't move!

He runs back for her. Eve's sprawled helplessly, in a pulp fiction pose. The blobs get closer and closer.

SCIENTIST #1: Mmppmmplmp!

SCIENTIST #2: I will, sir!

SCIENTIST #1: Mmppmmplmp!

SCIENTIST #2: You have my word, sir!

SCIENTIST #2 picks her up and runs with her at the last possible second.

EVE: Oh, Dad. Dad. (weeping)

SCIENTIST #2: There'll be time to cry, later.

EVE: Who are you?

SCIENTIST #2: I'm --

There's a loud explosion.


A determined PREACHER holding a Bible walks up to a blob.

PREACHER: Yea. Though I walk through the shadow of the valley of death, I shall fear no ee-vil. Hi there! I’m Pastor Bob. Have you accepted the Lord Jesus Christ as your personal savior?

The blob seems to think about it.

Then shoots out a pseudopod and absorbs him.

His Bible falls. We hear screams OS.


Two SCIENTISTS in white lab coats walk. Their footsteps echo.

SCIENTIST #3: I guess we're the lucky ones. We made it.

SCIENTIST #2: Not all of us did ... poor kid. If those things got into the Institute --

SCIENTIST #3: We’re two miles underground and sealed off by steel doors. The steel is ten feet thick! We should be safe here.

SCIENTIST #2: God willing.

SCIENTIST #3 What do we know about these things?

SCIENTIST #2: Only one thing. They can strike at any time.

A blob leaps down from the ceiling and eats SCIENTIST #3. SCIENTIST #2 runs. Various alarms go off.


GENERAL: I demand full authority, Mr. President. We must do something to stop these creatures!

PRESIDENT: You got it. Give em' hell, General!

GENERAL: Yes, sir! (salutes)


A phalanx of blobs advances. Tanks shoot the blobs; planes drop bombs on them. Then, finally, an H-Bomb. There’s a vast, mushroom cloud explosion. The devastation finally settles, revealing -- the blobs, unharmed. They continue to advance.

GENERAL: Atomic radiation has no effect! Retreat, men. Retreat!

A blob absorbs him.


EVE runs, weeping, looking at scenes of death and destruction. Her blouse is torn and, for some reason wet. For some other reason, she's not wearing a bra. She sees a rowboat by a river. Starts to walk towards it.

Suddenly – a blob cuts off her path.

EVE: Oh God!

SCIENTIST #2 appears.

SCIENTIST #2: Stand back!

SCIENTIST #2 grabs an oar from the boat and battles the blob. EVE screams. At the last minute, MICHAEL RENNIE appears in a shoulder-padded Mylar suit and zaps the blob with a raygun.

MICHAEL RENNIE: Do not be afraid, my children. Come with me and you shall live.

A shimmering sphere appears around him.

MICHAEL RENNIE: Enter. Quickly! Molecular solidification has begun.

EVE and SCIENTIST #2 enter. The sphere is now solid glass. It rises up into the sky.

SCIENTIST #2: Those blobs … What are those things?

MICHAEL RENNIE: Guardians of peace. The technology is beyond you.

SCIENTIST #2: What’s keeping us up?

MICHAEL RENNIE: Your primitive minds cannot understand.

SCIENTIST #2: Who are you?

MICHAEL RENNIE: You cannot pronounce my name.

SCIENTIST #2: What – never mind.

MICHAEL RENNIE: (closes his eyes) A telepathic message. I fear it has begun.

The sphere flies into space.


Montage of streets in various cities. An insectoid face appears on every TV set, the monitors in Times Square and Tokyo, etc. In a booming, metallic voice, the ALIEN gives the assembled crowds a warning.

ALIEN: Inhabitants of Earth. We of the planet Mars give you this warning. For millennia, we have monitored your world. We have found your species to be hostile and warlike. You are technological adults, but moral and ethical infants. You must be quarantined! Do what you will with Earth, but come to Mars and be destroyed!

SLOB: (watching TV set in shop window) Mars. He mean like the candy bar?

SOME OTHER GUY: No, the planet, stupid.

SLOB: Say, didn’t we just crash that thing on Mars?

ALIEN: Exactly.

More blobs drop down from the sky and start eating everyone.

SLOB: Christ, you stupid alien! You give the warning first! Then you kill people! That’s the way it works!

ALIEN: Sorry.


The sphere lands on an idyllic planet, as green as a golf course, kinda Eden-like. A bunny hops into view and smiles at the camera. MICHAEL RENNIE and the humans emerge from the sphere.

MICHAEL RENNIE: I am allowed to save only two of your kind. You will be safe here.

SCIENTIST #2: But those creatures --

MICHAEL RENNIE: Do not fear. The Guardians should not appear on this world. If they do, remember. They have only one weakness. (hands SCIENTIST #2 an oar) Wood.

SCIENTIST #2: (takes it) Thanks.

MICHAEL RENNIE: This shall be your new home, children of earth. Repopulate. Teach your children the ways of peace.

The sphere solidifies around MICHAEL RENNIE again. He flies away like Glinda the Good.

Alone now, the two surviving humans study each other.

SCIENTIST #2 What’s your name?

EVE: Eve. Yours?


They embrace passionately.

Music swells. Fade out.

[Above is a reconstruction of a lost comic book inked in 1974 - MF]