Mariel Hemingway Removes Forearm Skin
Candy-Colored Clown
kneeling by the side of the road removing all of the skin from her
forearms with a red and blue Fisher-Price scalpel and arranging the
epidermal strips into a gooey smiley-face. As I approached, she
motioned for me stop. When I rolled down my window, she began
bellowing in a Darth Vader voice.
"Captain Kangaroo is my love-child. Now all of you must die!"
As I screeched away, I noticed her in my rear-view mirror sticking her
tongue onto the hot asphalt and screaming at insects. Continuing
onward, I glimpsed Pee-Wee Herman seated on a recliner beneath a toll
bridge, watching Wild Kingdom on a large screen television and
masturbating. Several miles down the road, I pulled up the tollbooth,
and my attendant, who happened to be Chris Elliot, flashed his
trademark goofy grin and set his beard on fire. He cheerfully
accepted my forty cents as his jaw blackened, revealing charred
cartilage and skeleton beneath.
As I proceeded, I noticed a shadowy figure in a red Mustang tailgating
me. Suddenly, the car swerved up alongside of me and the tinted
driver's window crept downward. Sitting behind the wheel glaring at
me was Jamie Lee Curtis, topless, and sporting a full black beard and
bushy moustache. Before I could react, she aimed her left breast at
me, and unleashed a geyser-like stream of reddish liquid which struck
the side of my head. As she cackled and sped away, I checked my face
in the mirror and saw a burning, pulsating, miniature head forming on
my cheek. Within moments, the entity began assuming the features of
David Hasselhoff. He began flicking a purple, forked, reptilian
tongue across my eyes, periodically blinding me, and causing me swerve
all over the road.
"If it doesn't fit, you must acquit! If it doesn't fit, you must
acquit!" he rasped incessantly.
Suddenly, I lost control of the car and slammed into a pedestrian on
the shoulder of the tollway. When I opened my eyes, I saw Mariel
Hemingway, spread eagle, staring at me wide-eyed through my cracked
windshield. She cocked her fist back, and plunged her hand through
the glass and grabbed me by the throat. She leaned toward me, and
with hot, rancid breath, reeking like overcooked Stouffer's Spinach
Lasagne, she shouted, "Richard Gere killed my gerbil! I'm taking all
of you down with me!" With that, she produced her trusty scalpel, and
with a gentle flick of the wrist, excised Mr. Hasselhoff from my cheek
and popped him into her mouth.
After she rolled off my hood when I made my hasty getaway, I stole a
glance at her in my rear-view mirror as she was preparing to sever all
of her toes. I still remember her final plaintive wail.
"Ed Begley Jr. is the antichrist!"
levendis
misfortune of standing next to Brooke Shields, who popped a sneaker off my
foot and began to chew so vehemously that her left eyeball spurted out of
its socket and ricocheted around the car. I raised my briefcase to protect
my face, and just then Darryl Strawberry emerged from the emergency phone
box and caught the bouncing projectile with a shaved llama that was
painted to resemble Telly Savalis.
I hastily left the elevator as soon as we reached the top floor, and as
the doors closed you could hear the two singing a horrible duet of the
Too-Fat Polka. I walked briskly down the hall, fearing to make eye contact
with the many Dolph Lundgen impersonators, all being circumsized by
Pamela Anderson, who was mascarading as Doctor Ruth. I nearly slipped on a
severed foreskin which then squished out from beneath my bare foot and
stuck to the cheek of Doug Henning, who poked a toothpick through it and
started parading about in a purple toga and chanting the words to We Are
the World in a squeaky falsetto, punctuated by occasional epileptic fits.
During one of them, his CityBank Visa fell to the floor, and before he
could pick it up a herd of oxen being led by Burl Ives stampeded down the
hallway, reupholstering furniture and pelting foreigners with tiny balls
of dung.
I opened the door to the observation deck, and a sudden gust of wind
blew Tonya harding over the railing where she drifted lazily like a piece
of paper before being impaled on the nose of a 747 being flown by Alan
Alda. He reached out the window and began extracting pieces of her major
organs which he handed to an emu that had the head of Margaret Thatcher
and the body of Barry Scheck. The emu then took control of the plane while
Chuck Berris did a strip-tease to the incessant beating of a gong, and
Rita Rudner continuously threatened to hi-jack the plane to Stonehenge.
I had had enough. I decided to take the stair back down to the ground,
and on the 30th floor I was mugged by Woody Allen who complained the
entire time about the size of his genitals. As I handed over my wallet
Nell Carter burst from it, seized Woody by the neck and proceeded to stuff
onion and poppyseed bagels down his throat, screaming 'Joey Lawrence is
hung like a mule!'
I minced past them, and continued down the stairs. As I reached the
bottom Nell screamed after me, 'Alright! Send in the mongoose!' I sighed
plaintively, pulled my other shoe off, and took a big bite.
--levendis
"Angst on the planks, spittin' from | "And I maintain, if they wanted
a bridge, just to see how far down | you to know what was in it, they
it really is..." | would have printed it on the
-- _Cordelia_, The Tragically Hip | label. Now shut up and eat." -- Me
------------------------------------------------------------------------
E-Mail: dsta...@the.link.ca WWW: http://www.link.ca/~dstaffen/
Candy-Colored Clown
>From: dsta...@the.link.ca (levendis)
>Subject: Re: Mariel Hemingway Removes Forearm Skin
>Date: Thu, 19 Oct 1995 04:49:39 -0700
> While riding in the elevator to the top of the CN Tower, I had the
>misfortune of standing next to Brooke Shields, who popped a sneaker off my
>foot and began to chew so vehemously that her left eyeball spurted out of
>its socket and ricocheted around the car. I raised my briefcase to protect
>my face, and just then Darryl Strawberry emerged from the emergency phone
See--I told you it was fun. Pop-Surrealism-Catch the Wave. Brush your death
with Dentyne.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"A CANDY-COLORED CLOWN THEY CALL THE SANDMAN"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
levendis
(Candy-Colored Clown) wrote:
>In article <dstaffen-191...@dstaffen.link.ca>
dsta...@the.link.ca (levendis) writes:
>>From: dsta...@the.link.ca (levendis)
>>Subject: Re: Mariel Hemingway Removes Forearm Skin
>>Date: Thu, 19 Oct 1995 04:49:39 -0700
>
>> While riding in the elevator to the top of the CN Tower, I had the
>>misfortune of standing next to Brooke Shields, who popped a sneaker off my
>>foot and began to chew so vehemously that her left eyeball spurted out of
>>its socket and ricocheted around the car. I raised my briefcase to protect
>>my face, and just then Darryl Strawberry emerged from the emergency phone
>
>See--I told you it was fun. Pop-Surrealism-Catch the Wave. Brush your death
>with Dentyne.
Oh yeah, fun. Oh, what fun. A scarecrow moshes furiously under the
fierce scrutiny of a scallop, unintentionally glues to the wallpaper.
--levendis
"Like thunder needs rain, | "My parents were always very kind
like a prisoner needs pain, | to me when I was young. Whenever I
like tongues of flame, | took a bath, they'd always let me
like a sheet stained, | play with the toaster and the hair
I need your love..." | drier."
-- _Hawkmoon 269_, U2 | -- Me
Candy-Colored Clown
>From: Stephen Kunc <s...@capitalnet.com>
>Subject: Re: Mariel Hemingway Removes Forearm Skin
>bre...@interaccess.com (Candy-Colored Clown) wrote:
>>
>>See--I told you it was fun. Pop-Surrealism-Catch the Wave. Brush your death
>>with Dentyne.
>>
>It's fun because it is the mindless pursuit of subliterate trolls. The entirety
>of every contribution you've ever made to this newsgroup could be compressed
>into 5 minutes with a computer program filled with databases of body parts,
>celebrities and food products. Your useless self-adulating crap would serve a
>better purpose if it were given as jigsaw puzzles to underpriveledged children
>who could then try to reconstruct the paragraphs into something less inept. If
>the people in alt.journalism.gonzo weren't chickenshit groupies living
>vicariously off HST, they would have run you pathetic whelps outa here a long
>time ago.
So, in other words, you love the posts? OK fecalbreath--I'm gonna say this
one last time: Until you pathetic, lurking, uncreative, non-contributing
pieces of subhuman waste can produce something of your own which may induce
anything from a smile to a murderous rampage from the readers out there, shut
your collective pie-holes. Your envy shines brightly through your infantile
ranting. When I see a post I don't like, I'm just happy someone is out there
creating, rather than whining like a little baby. Now Stephen--go to the
cabinet under your kitchen sink, and fill a nice big syringe with Lysol Tub
and Tile Cleaner and inject it directly into your tiny little brain so that
perhaps you will be sufficiently enhanced enough to produce something of your
own so that other cowardly losers of your ilk will be able to criticize you
and overcompensate for their woefully inadequate penises. Have a nice weekend.
Dr. Squid
Stephen Kunc <s...@capitalnet.com> wrote:
>>bre...@interaccess.com (Candy-Colored Clown) wrote:
>>
>>>
>>>See--I told you it was fun. Pop-Surrealism-Catch the Wave. Brush your
>death
>>>with Dentyne.
>>>
>>
>>
>>It's fun because it is the mindless pursuit of subliterate trolls. The
>entirety
>>of every contribution you've ever made to this newsgroup could be compressed
>>into 5 minutes with a computer program filled with databases of body parts,
>>celebrities and food products. Your useless self-adulating crap would serve
a
>>better purpose if it were given as jigsaw puzzles to underpriveledged
>children
>>who could then try to reconstruct the paragraphs into something less inept.
>If
>>the people in alt.journalism.gonzo weren't chickenshit groupies living
>>vicariously off HST, they would have run you pathetic whelps outa here a
long
>>time ago.
>>
It must be EXTREMELY frustrating for you, Steve, living so close to the zoo
and all, gazing longingly out your bedroom window at all those
heart-breakingly beautiful frolicking lemurs, those handsome bouncing
kangaroos, those majestic almost-greek-god-like heroic rhinos, yearning deeply
yet knowing you'll never ever be able to cast off all that oppressive clothing
and run wild with the anteaters, run free with the orangutans and "become one"
with all those swinging, springing and singing jungle orifaces!
-- Dr. Squid ><>< (drs...@ix.netcom.com)
* All writing is garbage. People who come out of nowhere to *
* try to put into words anypart of what goes on in their *
* minds are pigs. *
* -- Antonin Artaud (From "The Nerve Meter") *
chage...@jack.clarku.edu
Subj: Re: Mariel Hemingway Removes Forearm Skin
bre...@interaccess.com (Candy-Colored Clown) wrote:
>>
>>See--I told you it was fun. Pop-Surrealism-Catch the Wave. Brush
your >>death
>>with Dentyne.
>>
From: Stephen Kunc <s...@capitalnet.com>
>It's fun because it is the mindless pursuit of subliterate trolls.
The >entirety
>of every contribution you've ever made to this newsgroup could be
>compressed
>into 5 minutes with a computer program filled with databases of body
parts,
>celebrities and food products. Your useless self-adulating crap
would serve >a
>better purpose if it were given as jigsaw puzzles to
underpriveledged >children
>who could then try to reconstruct the paragraphs into something less
inept. >If
>the people in alt.journalism.gonzo weren't chickenshit groupies
living
From one chickenshit to the other, I think your mindless reply begins
with subliteracy and extends to a dumb pursuit of a troll hunt. The
entirely of your reply to breitt's writing is nothing more than a
compression of 5 years of your cerebral outlay. A computer filled
with a database of your brain would register only "celebrities" and
"food products" in its tally. Your useless self-absorbed critique
of breitt would serve a better purpose if you spew your banter at a
Carnival, as one of the freaks, aptly named: "The Gonzo Critic". If
it wasn't for us overeducated children, whelps like youself would
have nothing to say.
chage...@jack.clarku.edu
From: Stephen Kunc <s...@capitalnet.com>
>It's fun because it is the mindless pursuit of subliterate trolls.
The >entirety
>of every contribution you've ever made to this newsgroup could be
>compressed
>into 5 minutes with a computer program filled with databases of body
parts,
>celebrities and food products. Your useless self-adulating crap
would serve >a
>better purpose if it were given as jigsaw puzzles to
underpriveledged >children
>who could then try to reconstruct the paragraphs into something less
inept. >If
>the people in alt.journalism.gonzo weren't chickenshit groupies
living
From one chickenshit to the other, I think your mindless reply begins
with subliteracy and extends to a dumb pursuit of a troll hunt. The
entirely of your reply to breitt's writing is nothing more than a
compression of 5 years of your cerebral outlay. A computer filled
with a database of your brain would register only "celebrities" and
"food products" in its tally. Your useless self-absorbed critique
of breitt would serve a better purpose if you spew your banter at a
Carnival, as one of the freaks, aptly named: "The Gonzo
Criticaster". If it wasn't for us overeducated children, whelps
like youself would end up as loyal scribes under the potty light of
Hunter Thompsons bathroom, the torch of alt.journalism.gonzo,
detailing his every word as he peed into your gaping open mouth.
Now, go back to your groupie, Steve.
Tencer Daniel Lukas
: >Like thunder needs rain, my parents were always very kind
: >like a prisoner needs pain, to me when I was young. Whenever I
: >like tongues of flame, took a bath, they'd always let me
: >like a sheet stained, play with the toaster and the hair
: >I need your love... drier.
: That's how I saw your sig. I liked it alot until I realized you were saying
: two different things and then I got confused and my head exploded.
Okay, the first half of that schizophrenic poem is from "Hawkmoon 269," I
think. The other half must be some kind of joke. What the two are doing
together is beyond me. Anybody care to explain?
Stephen Kunc
>From one chickenshit to the other, I think your mindless reply begins
>with subliteracy and extends to a dumb pursuit of a troll hunt. The
Say, did you post this message twice with revisions because you had more ideas
the second time?
I'm afraid your response is symptomatic of precisely the witless servitude that
passing rap lyrics off as surrealism brings. You are apparently incapable of
responding without building off what someone else has already spoon fed you. It
doesn't take any energy or wit to merely turn around the phraseology of another
person's text. I guess I shouldn't be surprised either that you're just one of
the typical drooling internet horde that is incapable of posting anything
that's not rife with slabs of quoted material and incompetently appropriates
the original poster's metaphors as a pale substitute for your own thought. The
big problem here is that you all lack the courage to make value judgments
because you'd rather sit in the happy sanctuary that any effort at all has
merit regardless of its aptitude.
Candy-Colored Clown
>From: Stephen Kunc <s...@capitalnet.com>
>Date: 23 Oct 1995 15:19:44 GMT
>If you're
>content to write puerile dreck that's fine with me, just don't make me the
>scapegoat for your own lack of ambition.
Once again, the "lack of ambition" lies squarely in your corner, for it is you
who is only capable of parasitic condemnation. Show the world some of your
own creation (if you have any) and then we can talk about about energy levels,
self-esteem, etc.
Stephen Kunc
>one last time: Until you pathetic, lurking, uncreative, non-contributing
>pieces of subhuman waste can produce something of your own which may induce
>anything from a smile to a murderous rampage from the readers out there, shut
Please spare me this altruistic nonsense. If you are going to defend something,
don't make it the artistic integrity of your rap lyrics, defend your right to
have low standards. It amazes me how often people like you will impute
responsibility to critics for your own lack of energy or self-esteem. If you're
Candy-Colored Clown
>From: Stephen Kunc <s...@capitalnet.com>
>Subject: Re: Mariel Hemingway Removes Forearm Skin
>bre...@interaccess.com (Candy-Colored Clown) wrote:
>>Once again, the "lack of ambition" lies squarely in your corner, for it is you
>>who is only capable of parasitic condemnation. Show the world some of your
>>own creation (if you have any) and then we can talk about about energy levels,
>>self-esteem, etc.
>>
>I find the fundamental statement in the above -- that anything is better than
>nothing -- to be disturbing. How could whatever my own creations are possibly
>affect the value of your own rap lyrics? Is it a contest in relativity?
You must be wearing some special prescription lenses to glean the so-called
"fundamental statement" from between the lines of my writing. Never have I
stated or implied that "anything is better than nothing." Nor have I stated
or implied that your creations have any bearing on the value of my art. What
I have been stating is that it is the utmost in hypocrisy to toss about
infantile descriptions such as "puerile dreck" and "horseshit" when you have
not proven that you can do any better. Many educated, intelligent people have
written me stating that they like my dreck, so apparently their sense of humor
differs from yours. Surely you are not implying that you are a more capable
critic than they are? Why can't you just say "I don't understand your humor"
or "I don't find it funny." Even Levendis, who is not a fan of my work, went
ahead and wrote some similar material in an effort to make a point about the
facile nature of the pieces. Though I did not necessarily agree with him, at
least he made a gentlemanly attempt at constructive criticism, with a minimal
amount of mudslinging. You however, are content to merely dismiss the work
with a few careless generalizations. You, of course, have that right--but
without adequate display of your potential as a writer, your weapon has no
ammunition.
>It is not parasitic condemnation to be able to identify and label horseshit. I
>don't subscribe to this retrograde philosophy that in the absence of anything
>of clear value, any braindead gibberish that thalidomide babies with no
>opposable thumbs can pound into a keyboard must by necessity be accepted. Is
>your whole life meted out my such a cowardly arena, in which you lack the
>courage to make value judgments based on criteria other than quantity?
No, in fact I think it is much more cowardly to make value judgments based
merely on one's own taste or in your case, lack of knowledge, rather than on
a complete, comprehensive, BALANCED assessment of the issue at hand. It takes
a much stronger person to recognize strengths as well as weaknesses,
especially toward someone whom they harbor envy. You're the one with the
"retrograde philosophy": "If you can't say anything worthwhile, don't say
anything at all." That's a sad, fascistic, stifling philosophy. Who's to
decide what's "worthwhile?" Hopefully for our society, not the Stephen Kuncs
of this world.
P.S.--Some of my best friends are thalidomide babies, so watch it!
a hurricane triggered by butterfly's wings
>I have to hold up qualifications to make me capable of accurate judgment?
If you fail to provide your qualifications, then the only
proposition which you can justify is "*I* think this sucks."
If, on the other hand, you wish to convince the rest of us,
which, if I interpret your endless crossposting rants correctly,
is your intent, then you'll need to establish the grounds under
which we should be persuaded by your arguments. Everyone has
the right to an INFORMED opinion; what makes you so special,
farmer?
In talk.bizarre, of course, these questions are moot, as we
couldn't give a marmot's molar what you think constitutes "art"
or "gonzo journalism." In fact, we'd appreciate it greatly if
you would shut the fuck up, or failing that, direct your
comments OUT of talk.bizarre.
Thanks.
paul
--
I don't know what you have to say
It makes no differance anyway
Whatever it is -- I'm against it!
Candy-Colored Clown
>From: Stephen Kunc <s...@capitalnet.com>
>Subject: Re: Mariel Hemingway Removes Forearm Skin
I just can't respect Hallmark Greetings gangsta rap lyrics. Mother Teresa's
brother is so far from any even marginally blurry drool. 17 levels of shit
previously account for an infinite number of possible mitigating
spleens.
Stephen Kunc
>I just can't respect Hallmark Greetings gangsta rap lyrics. Mother Teresa's
>brother is so far from any even marginally blurry drool. 17 levels of shit
It figures that you'd wimp out of responding to any of my points. It probably
speaks more to the value of your 'creativity' than I ever could that you find
it easier to compose and post your crap than to discuss your crap. I imagine
that you can write it faster than you can write coherent sentences -- certainly
quite a testament to the agony of creation.
Candy-Colored Clown
>From: Stephen Kunc <s...@capitalnet.com>
>Subject: Re: Mariel Hemingway Removes Forearm Skin
>bre...@interaccess.com (Candy-Colored Clown) wrote:
Actually pal, I was trying to give you a chance to gracefully bow out of a
thread which is futile. Your arguments are specious, redundant, and circular.
I've discussed my "crap" with you far more than you deserved. In a nutshell,
the disagreement you and I have is that you think my writing sucks and I think
your critical abilities are for shit. Period. End of conversation. I am
going to continue posting my puerile dreck and if you'd like, you may continue
your long-winded, unjustified diatribes. I have precious little time as it
is, and to waste it defending myself against the likes of a cold,
mean-spirited, humorless automaton such as you, is self-defeating. Good-bye
Stephen. You've been an adequate verbal sparring partner, but I just don't
love you anymore. Find some other host organism to leech onto and criticize
now.
Critter
==========Stephen Kunc, 10/26/95==========
>bre...@interaccess.com (Candy-Colored Clown) wrote:
>
>>I just can't respect Hallmark Greetings gangsta rap lyrics. Mother
Teresa's
>>brother is so far from any even marginally blurry drool. 17 levels of shit
>
>
>It figures that you'd wimp out of responding to any of my points. It
probably
>speaks more to the value of your 'creativity' than I ever could that you
find
>it easier to compose and post your crap than to discuss your crap. I imagine
>that you can write it faster than you can write coherent sentences --
certainly
>quite a testament to the agony of creation.
He's a surrealist.. okay?
...Critter of DaDa and Cubism
Corduroy's ________ Coffee,
Coffeehouse | |_/ Literature,
Beatnik Cafe \_____/ and Culture
http://metro.turnpike.net/C/Critter/index.html
Ancient Fever Rerun
> In article <46gcdc$e...@bcarh8ab.bnr.ca>, Stephen Kunc <s...@capitalnet.com>
> wrote:
>
> > chage...@jack.clarku.edu wrote:
> >
> > >From one chickenshit to the other, I think your mindless reply begins
> > >with subliteracy and extends to a dumb pursuit of a troll hunt. The
> >
> >
> > Say, did you post this message twice with revisions because you had more ideas
> > the second time?
> >
> > I'm afraid your [hack cough - spurt -- SPIT] response is symptomatic of
> [braaaaaap] precisely the witless [BURP] servitude that passing
> [gaaaaaaaas] rap lyrics off as surrealism [fart] brings. You are
> apparently [fuck me fuck me fuck me] incapable of [drooling noises]
> responding without building off what someone else has already spoon fed
> [spoonf me, spoonf me you heartless MINDLESS WITLESS PRICK OH YESSSS!!!]
> you. It
> > doesn't take any [poot]energy or [tttthhhhpppt!] wit to merely turn
> around the [SPOIT!] phraseology of another
> > person's [smack] text. I guess I shouldn't be [shrieeeeek] surprised
> either that you're just one [spoogy] of
> > the typical [mindless witless] drooling internet [frapp] horde that is
> incapable [aaarrrrgh! hmmph. Oh yeah] of posting anything [BULLY!] that's
> not rife with [craaack] slabs of [sssspppppt] quoted material and
> incompetently appropriates
> > the original [farty] poster's metaphors as a pale [kapow!] substitute
> for your own [URK!] thought. The
> > big [prick] problem here is that you [retha] all lack the courage to
> make [pooty] value judgments
> > because you'd rather sit in [spuuuuuurtarhea] the happy sanctuary that
> any [screeeeeeek] effort at all has
> > merit [crap] regardless [titty titty] of its [big throobin rod] aptitude.
>
>
Actually, your (adorable) crap was utterly (useful) in its own
(experi)mental (non)sense. Sleep was the only effort possible in
reading your imaginary voidless drone you take pride yourself in.
I'm sure you've put others to sleep as well, your wake-up calling
I believe is in SUCKING, so quit trying to deal with anything I say,
and I'll continually elicit the kinda of bullshit I like to see
people like you cope with your drool dump way. I consider it
a success when I see your impotentcy revealed in trying to mock
attitudes you see worthy of revitalizing to achieve the maximum
expediture of thoughts you maintain. Try achieving an erection before
stickng up my lingo, and maybe I'll give you a softer cookie next
time.