Tuesday, July 23, 1996


(a response to Ollie Stoned's Nixon)

Open longshot, ext: the White House. Boiling clouds in a time lapse sky--a writhing maelstrom of evil right outta "Something Wicked This Way Comes," the book that is, not the dumbass movie.

The camera pulls back and we see --

That the White House is inside a glass sphere.

Pull back --

And we see a wizened old hand holding the sphere.

Pull back --

Nixon, mummified, phlebitic, hunched forward in a Craftmatic adjustible bed with oxygen tanks on one side, ziggurats of pill bottles on the other.

Extreme c.u.: Nixon's eyes.

Jump cut to --

Extreme c.u.: Nixon's mouth.

NIXON: Rosebud.

Medium shot, Nixon in bed.

C.U. -- Nixon's hand. The hand relaxes; the ball drops, shatters.

Dead stop: freeze frame. Then, Stephen Hawking style, time's arrow reverses -- the glass shards converge, vectors of motion congealing into a perfect sphere which shoots up into the hand which neatly catches the sphere.

NOXIN: Budesor.

And, now, the trip begins. Distorted, backwards-playing Roger Corman acidhead music playing to razor-cut Moviola Eisenstein mishmoshmontage of Checker's speech; G. Gordon Liddy melting into Jim West on "the Wild Wild West" melting into the Grateful Dead's Statue of Liberty shoving torch up the ass of JFK; bombs falling up; longhair on armies of freaks growing backwards; microfilm inside a pumpkin which turns out to be a human head; Linus screaming "Auuuggghh"; "the whole world is"--zzzzzt--", stronger, faster, cleaner!"; burning Cambodians; National Guard Troops shooting tiny little college students at a Funhouse Arcade; Flo and Eddie freaking out in Centerville;

Frank Zappa melting into Jerry Voorhees melting into Pat Brown melting into the Soylent Majority -- men of dust, like grey, granular snowmen, marching in perfect formation on an infinite plane, then blown away by a wind from nowhere.

Hold on the nothingness, the dust.

Oliver Stone appears dressed as Hobo Kelly; sadfaced, he sweeps up the dust into a dustpan; a spotlight holds on the dust, diminishes, until the Stone Clown sweeps up the last fragments of light as well and there is nothing but darkness.

NOXIN: Thgil eb ereht tel.

The rest is Soylent.

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