23 August 2012


Some more shit
by Meat Trademark

Remember, folks, after you sneeze, if you use Kleenex brand, don’t throw that tissue away just yet.  You can read it like you’d read tea leaves or tarot cards.  Just take the tissue, reopen it up to it’s full flat area and set it on a table.  Then get a ruler, I’ll wait.

Good, but that sure took a while didn’t it? 

Now, first, did you sneeze directly into the middle of the tissue or off-center? 

If you sneezed directly into the center, expect either a raise or a death in the family soon. 

Is it to the left or right, top or bottom? 

Measure from the edges to middle. 

Is the snot and/or saliva more to the left than to the right, more to the bottom than to the top? 

If the snot is two inches from the left and two inches from the top, anticipate an unexpected guest in the next two days. 

If the snot is three inc


                                 etrist told me my eyes aren’t receiving enough cathode.  As a corrective measure, I’ve begun a regime of seventeen hours of TV a day for three weeks and two days-  Wake up. Watch TV.  Watch some more TV.  Eat (in front of TV).  Write, during boring parts.  Watch TV.  Eat again (in front of TV).  Watch TV.  Eat again (in front of TV).  Sleep.

By my calculations, I view some 500 commercials daily.  Food, booze, cars and household goods, over and over and over. 
Saturday is toy commercial day.  Toys like:

SURGERY!-  Where kids learn how to cut one of their toes off, and sew it back on with only minor nerve damage!  And the companion game:

AUTOPSY!-  Kids learn to dissect corpses, trying to establish cause of death.  (Includes two human corpses, scalpel, X-Ray machine, bone-saw, formaldehyde, and much more!  Ages 12 and up.)

My 1st Abiogenesis Kit-  Teaches kids how to create life from nonliving matter.  Experiments include silicone-based life, merging chromosomes, changing nucleic acids, the restructurization of DNA, animating water, and more.

Fisher Price Tattoo Gun-  Comes with instructions, templates, and a year’s supply of ink.

Sharp Water- Looks like water, tastes like water, smells like water, but watch out!  It’s sharp!

Children’s Russian Roulette- All the fun of the adult game, without the messy cleanup.  (Blanks sold separately.)

Teen Pregnancy board game- Teaches children about babies, abortion, and true love.

Lil’ Hypodermic Needles- Kit includes 24 syringes, a pre-bent spoon, Bunsen burner, 24 cotton swabs, tourniquet, and instructions.  (All needles have been used once, for testing.  Ages 9 and up.)

Baby’s First Download- The original and still the best digital diaper on the market. Now available without prescription.  (Not available in the original thirteen colonies.)

Poopy Baby- The doll actually shits!  Learn about diapers and cleanup!  (Diapers, fake poop, batteries, clothes, baby powder, packaging, instructions, and head sold separately.)

Preschool Golden Seal- Herbal tea that helps four year olds pass their drug test to get into kindergarten.  (Now with better protection against Schedule IV drugs!)

Einstein’s Secret Unified Field Theory- ユヤサネカホツォーテラ゚ 
(Instructions not included.  Updates available for service charge.  Ages 30 and up.)

“Stray Bullet Jackson” inaction figure- Life-like head wound!  Figure lies around leaking blood (not included).  Kit includes: dead doll, movable chalk outline, and two spent 9mm shells.

21 August 2012


(An excerpt from my autobiography)

First off, a couple notes for context: this was written when I was dating the Greek Goddess of Chaos, Eris, and this particular event took place while she was Offworld doing whatever she does when she's not home. Also, when we started dating my life began having a literal soundtrack. Okay. Let's do this.

Not many people realize that Kurt Russel is a powerful magician. He's not just a guy who felt “kinda invincible” in that Big Trouble in Little China movie, he's also a practicing guerrilla sorcerer. He comes over every few months to ‘read’ me and realign my libido and rotate my chakra (so they wear out evenly, he always tells me). One week, I secretly replaced one of my chakra with the new Folgers crystals and I secretly taped it without his knowledge, so let’s check it out.

[Kurt enters, takes off overcoat, sits]

“Nathan. How are you?” He’s the only person that calls me Nathan. Everyone else calls me Nate (except, of course, Calls Everyone Spanky).

“Pretty good, Snake. And you?” (He asked me to call him Snake.)

“Ahn, shit, well, I can’t complain. Wouldn't say no to a beer if you offered. Just finished up doing a commentary with the Old Man.” That's what he calls John Carpenter. “Wait.” He jumps up and approaches me. He takes the last step slower, as if penetrating a barrier. He puts one hand on my chest and one hand on my head. “There’s something very wrong.” He grabs my head and pulls me to a standing position, and then waves his hands over my head. With a pulling motion he lowers them to my chest and begins wide circling motions over my body. Then, with the slightest tugging, he slowly brings his hands back to him. They are cupped. When he opens them they are full of coffee. “What is this?”

I look at him and smile. “Oh, that’s where that went! I’ve been looking for that.” I outstretch my palms and he wordlessly pours the coffee into my hands.

That’s when I noticed it was vibrating subtly. My smile dropped like a 16 ton cartoon weight. It was... As I brought it to my face to smell it, novelty turned to trepidation. I could hear the coffee. It seemed to be whistling a catchy little ditty. Familiar as hell. Oh, I know this tune it’s- HOLY SHIT!

“Snake, what exactly did you do?”

“I took out everything that wasn’t supposed to be there.”

He had taken my Madness in Theory and Practice theme music out inadvertently when he exorcised me. It was mixed in with the coffee. I feel so empty and naked now. I never realized how much I took my wonderful chesty little music for granted. I miss it already. It was like a magnet pulling me forward into the future.

Eris isn’t going to like this. She’s gonna be soooo mad at us. Him for taking it out, and me for fucking with my chakra in the first place.


What the fuck was I thinking? Oh yeah. It’s fucking brilliant. That’s what I was thinking. I’ve sure learned my lesson. Next time will be much more thought out. . .

15 August 2012



Look out everyone, generic John Smith is loose again! Hide your goodies and brace your own! There’s no telling where this rip-roaring rampage will abate. Yes, “abate” my dear friends, for this tale shall never “end.” Mere abatement is the best we can, and should, hold out for. As if our lives had a nice, conveniently placed, pause button. No actual definable End, but not even a “real” “beginning” or “middle,” either. Plain old chapter stops. Envision the chapter stops as ancient, handwritten scrolls where each chapter is a different scroll, or envision them as a new release DVD with scene selections. Either way, you should get the idea. Close your eyes, point your finger, and hit a random button. It’ll get you somewhere.


The John Smith glances out from his patio, directly at the reader, and smiles as if nothing is wrong. Of course, he understands that him being viewed is a complete assault on his definition of reality, but he takes it in stride. “Just a drug flashback…,” or some such bullshit is how he defines or justifies this awareness. As quickly as not, he forgets it and begins thinking about rubber chickens. Kind of a defense program. When things gets too rough in “reality,” he shuts down most systems and runs basic cold/heat, pain/pleasure type functions, with a piggy-back hacker-style surreal thought inducer: The Rubber Chicken.

Whenever John Smith approaches a brown-out or black-out situation he has these functions occur at once. Then, he is thinking about rubber chickens.

This time he envisions a complex history of marketing and development. Beginning with Herman Winslow. Herman, of course, is the inventor of the plastic vomit spot. (“Fool your friends! Looks like real vomit!”) His next invention, Crystal Dog Doo, never caught on. His competitor, Albert Rubinstein, had much better luck with his rubber version. Soon, Rubber Dog Doo™! and Fake Puke™! were competing for the Guinness Book of World Records position of best-selling novelty item.

Then Herman made a terrible mistake. He sank all of his money into a new novelty product. The Flannel Chicken. He paid an estimated two million dollars for 5 million Flannel Chickens. His assessment of the public’s buying prices and habits cost him dearly. The original price of the Flannel Chicken was $14.95. He sold less than five hundred of the five million units in the first year. Only two thousand sold the following year for less than five dollars each. By the third year of release, he had been completely wiped out. His fatal flaw, as in the case of Crystal Dog Doo, was in misinterpreting the needs of the buying public. Again, his main competitor Rubinstein had outdone him with another “Rubber” version. The Rubber Chicken outsold the Flannel Chicken to a ratio approaching 10,000
to 1. While this ratio gained the Rubber Chicken a place in Novelty Record history, it also granted a place in Faux Chicken esoterica. The Flannel Chicken now has an asking price in excess of $10,000 whenever an original one turns up in auction. As there are only 148 Flannel Chickens known to be still in existence, it is also the rarest known mass-produced Novelty Collectible.

Revenge beyond the grave? Only if it doesn’t come in rubber.

-Jerry Garwold,

Collect This magazine

XXIII Number V

May, 1996

a VERY short play 2

by Meat Trademark

You're the *SHIT* right?!!? You *RULE* right?!?!!

Yeah, I'm shit. And follow rules. (sigh)

NO!!! Not good enough!!!

I'm sorry.


a VERY short play

by Meat Trademark

GUY: (Entering room) Whoah! It smells like ARBY'S in here!

OTHER GUY: Yeah. My dog just shit on the floor over in the corner. I haven't got it cleaned up yet.

GUY: (Nodding) That explains it.