The First Presidential Debate, With A Little Bit Of Sarcasm - October 2012

Jim Lehrer:  “This is the part where I kick things off by appearing completely unprofessional and scatter-brained despite my sterling reputation and years of experience indicating I should perform otherwise. After I finally figure out where I am, I kick off the first session. Let’s start with President Obama, who apparently won some type of coin toss.”

President Obama:  “This is the part where I seem to be a little unfocused, rambling on about something that involves the anniversary of my marriage to Michelle Obama. Even though I didn’t marry Michelle Obama. I married Michelle Robinson. Maybe I just get flustered with any last name that starts with ‘R-O’. What was the actual question?”

Mitt Romney:  “I don’t care what the question is. Me and my weirdly-gelled hair are here to prove that Okenya has destroyed this entire country, especially the parts that have country clubs.”

JL:  “I don’t think either of you actually answered the question, but I might have forgotten to take some sort of important pill and I really don’t know if…”

PO:  “I was talking to a woman in one of the lesser states the other day and she was so thankful about what I’ve done for this country  that she offered me one of her low-cost prescriptions that might help me appear to be more energetic  in a national debate.”

MR:  “That woman is a pig for having thanked you. I was talking to my wife, Marie Antoinette, in one of our lesser houses the other day and SHE thanked ME for our own marriage, where we are so super wealthy that we get to have Mormon slaves who take care of everything, including her impregnations and a human shield that prevents us from ever having to see reality. Just like Rush’s high-cost prescriptions.”

JL:  “I really don’t know where this is going…”

PO:  “Mr. Romney is a little confused about his facts, but I need to rest against this podium for a minute and try to get my strength back while I mystifyingly don’t contradict him…”

MR:  “Screw facts and screw resting. This is the part where I get to wave my finger defiantly at you while I make up some more crap about some things I said but I’m now going to claim that I didn’t say.”

JL:  “Why in the hell did we not opt to have commercial breaks?”

PO:  “Your fiscal plan is, um, way wrong. Can somebody bring me a stool?”

MR:  “I don’t have a fiscal plan that has any basis in real life. But that’s really not important, because everyone at Fox News knows that as long as I keep moving my lips, they’ll be able to manipulate the video so that it appears that I said something more important than Jesus ever said. So I’m going to bellow and bellow and bellow and…”

JL:  “Mr. Romney, you’re a little over you time limit…”

MR:  “Screw you. YOU don’t have a house in the Hamptons. I don’t have to listen to you.”

JL:  “Umm….”

MR:  “And bellow and bellow and…”

PO, visibly shaking off the effects of malaria or whatever the issue might have been:  “Mitt, there’s not a single competent economist on the planet who agrees that your budget plan will work.”

MR:  “It doesn’t have to work, it just has to get me elected. I’m going to stand here and keep repeating that it will work until the polls are in my favor. I don’t have a day job, I’ve got all the time in the world.”

JL:  “Can someone remind me what topic we’re on at this point?”

PO:  “Mitt, you have a five trillion dollar tax cut in your plan. With no additional revenue. How can that work?”

MR:  “I’ve never said the words ‘five’ or ‘trillion’ or ‘dollar’ or ‘I accept responsibility for my habitual lying’ in my entire life. What part of ‘I just need to get elected’ do you not understand?”

PO:  “Well, I understand about getting elected, having already done that a few times. But you have to work on your political agenda to make sure you satisfy as many people as you can. It’s the American way.”

MR:  “Then you’re a stupid man. All you have to do is say whatever your audience wants at the time and then deny it the next day. Obviously you’ve never read the Republican handbook. See, folks? Obama can’t even read. I have lots of people who read books and explain them to me, so I’m the better candidate. And now I’m going to bellow some more, because it’s really not important what comes out of my mouth as long as I keep talking and they have video editors at Fox News. Bellow and bellow and meaningless bellow and…”

JL:  “Um, Mr. Romney, could you try to stay on topic and not talk past your time limit and-“

MR:  “You don’t have a house in the Hamptons! Shut up.”

JL:  “Okay, my bad.”

PO:  “Does anybody have some water? I just need a little sip of something…”

MR:  “People who make water have lost their jobs because the Republicans, um,  I mean YOU, have blocked the Jobs Creation bill repeatedly.”

PO:  “Hold up. I haven’t blocked anything. Boehner and Cantor are the ones who-“

MR:  “People don’t have water! All because of you and your Muslim evil-doing. I talked to a woman the other day who hasn’t had water since 2007.”

PO:  “I wasn’t actually the President at that time and-“

MR:  “People are stupid! I’ve made it this far depending on the stupidity of people with the attention span of road-kill. This is America! Where rich, white people control everything.”

JL:  “Oh dear God. I just want to go home. Somebody call my agent.”

Random Democrat in the audience:  “Is this really happening? There hasn’t been a word out of Mitt’s mouth that got within miles of the truth. Why isn’t Obama shutting him down?”

Random Republican in the audience:  “Mitt is the new Jesus! I want to have his baby!”

Random Independent in the audience:  “And why is it that we don’t have a third political party with any real significance?”

Jim Lehrer’s agent, texting:  “Dude, I know you took your vitamin supplements this morning, what the hell is wrong with you? This is really going to affect your speaking tour when you retire…”

Ann Romney:  “I’m bored. Aren’t we paying somebody to change the channel when I want them to?”

Anne Rice, out of nowhere:  “And people wonder why I turned to vampires for comfort during my time of need…”

Michelle Obama, somewhere not at the debate:  “Sasha, Malia, head on upstairs to bed. Momma needs to talk to Daddy when he gets home, and you don’t need to hear this.”

Michele Bachmann:  “What’s a debate?”

Marcus Bachmann:  “I did not sleep with that man. I was healing him.”

Britney Spears:  “Buy my new album! There’s one song where I actually sing!”

Madonna:  “Bitch, please.”

Jim Lehrer:  “I think I might have lost control at some point…”

Mitt Romney: “Damn right you did, working for that liberal network with Big Bird and children who know how to count. You killed Jesus! Or somebody that was important. I don’t have to prove it I just have to say it.”

President Obama, whispering to a Secret Service agent that really doesn’t care:  “I had no idea that Romney could even put a sentence together.”

Secret Service Agent:  “Dude, he’s like lying out his ass. Say something!”

PO:  “But it’s not part of the plan. I have a plan. I always have a plan. I just don’t always explain it to people. Michelle gets a little pissed about that.”

Agent:  “Okay, look, this is kind of an important election. Maybe you should alter the plan a little bit and quit just standing there and taking it and making Romney look like he’s right. I can guarantee you that there are a whole bunch of Republicans having an orgasm right now. Or at least ordering their servants to have one for them. Call his ass on this.”

Jim Lehrer:  “Is somebody talking on stage when it’s not his turn? Other than Mitt Romney?”

Mitt Romney:  “I’m gonna kill that bird.”

Anne Rice:  “Doesn’t matter. I’ll make him come back to life in the next book in my vampire series. I think I’ll set this one in Cozumel, because there’s always a lot of stupid people running around and not paying attention and drunkenly going down the wrong street.  A lot like New Orleans, but with more humidity and less important architecture…”

Producer of the show:  “Does anybody have any idea what is going on right now?”

Assistant Producer:  “Well, bloggers across the country are breaking their necks trying to get to a keyboard. Does that help?”

Jim Lehrer:  “Okay, I believe that we’re on session 3 of the agenda. Or maybe we’re still on 2 because I really don’t have any control here. Mitt, since I’m now apparently your bitch, maybe you could let me know where-“

Mitt Romney:  “I totally refute everything I said before today. Everything. Somebody else said it. Whatever I said, I don’t agree with it anymore, and now I’m going to say what it takes to get me elected, because that’s how the Republican process works. I get to change my answers now that all the other Republican candidates are ass-up in the wind. And screw the facts. We all know that doesn’t matter as long as Fox News is still on the air.”

President Obama:  “Bingo. I finally and lethargically got you to say what I wanted you to say.”

Secret Service Agent:  “Dude, part two, I really don’t know if the world is going to understand your agenda based on how this thing went. Just sayin. Maybe next time you could drink a Red Bull?”

Random Republican woman in the audience:  “Bring back polygamy! I want to marry Mitt Romney and make sure there are more of him in this world even though I couldn’t stand him during the primaries. Because that’s how we Republicans roll.”

Random Democratic woman in the audience:  “Sister Girl, you are jacked up in the head if you are even considering voting for Romney. Are you seriously giving up ownership of your own vagina and everything else that you’ve worked for in your life?”

Republican woman:  “Work? What is that?”

Hillary Clinton, texting from yet another country she’s had to visit as Secretary of State in the hopes of undoing the political damage inflicted by Little Bush, Little Boehner, Little Rove, and the dumb-ass Supreme Court Justices who upheld Citizens United and unleashed the Beast of Corporate Greed:  “I’m on it. Like I always am. Do you think I would have a hairstyle like this if I wasn’t serious? Have somebody make some coffee and I’ll be there in the morning.”

Mitt Wrongme:  “What time is it? Has it been long enough that I can change what I just said?”

President Obama:  “Did you hear the part about bloggers scrambling to certify what you’ve babbled all night? It’s the modern age, Mitt. People in Tokyo already know what you just said.”

Mitt:  “Tokyo? Didn’t we bomb them? At least I think one of my companies did. Before I outsourced it.”

PO:  “Night, Mitt.”

Secret Service Agent to PO:  “Dude, part three, kind of a risky move, don’t you think, letting the people make their own interpretations of what happened tonight.”

PO:  “Really? I’m thinking I just let Mitt show the world what he’s really like.”

Agent:  “Yeah, but this is America. There are a lot of stupid people out there. When you don’t confront his lies, you look weak.”

PO:  “I had one night where I was off. Mitt has had 364 of them. We’ll bounce back.”

Agent:  “Tell that to Howard Dean. Fox News will spin the hell out of this.”

PO:  “Let them spin. Maybe someday they’ll land on an actual fact.”

Random Republican, leaping out of her seat and hollering despite the supposed “Quiet Game” rule for the audience:  “Romney is the Messiah because Rush Limbaugh said so. I willingly pledge that my vagina is now corporate property of Citizens United and Grover Norquist!” (Amid the scattered applause, someone hands the woman a toaster oven as a membership prize. It appears to be Ann Coulter, but it’s hard to tell when it comes to drag queens who look really tired and haven’t properly moisturized.)

Random Democrat in the audience, unfortunately seated next to the delusional woman who doesn’t understand property rights and free-thinking:  “This is 2012, right? Who invited somebody from the Old Testament?”

Anne Rice again, texting from Cozumel where she is already scribbling away on her next Vampire Chronicles entry:  “Now do you believe me that the dead are already walking the earth?”

Jim Lehrer:  “Um, can somebody validate my parking ticket. Because I’m not really sure if I’ll be back…”

End trans.

Backup Dancers From Hell: Christina Aguilera - “Not Myself Tonight”

Apparently not, based on this video. Girl done got her some new outfits and an overdose of hormones. Look out. (Side note: There’s some language in this one, and some eye-opening scenes that would not play well at a Baptist revival, so keep that in mind.)

We start off rather chastely, with Christina dolled up in that Greta-Garbo-on-acid look that she’s been sporting for the new album. Nobody’s having sex or anything. But this cleanliness only lasts for a short bit, and we start getting glimpses of Christina wearing far less Puritan couture, and she’s already dripping sweat from her insatiable need to ride the white horse. (We also see that one of the makeup artists thought it would be fun to make Xtina’s eyes look like they exploded in one scene. But why?)

Cut to a room filled with sexy people wearing just bits of leather and some hair gel. Christina is the only one in white, making it easier to find her when it’s time to switch sex partners. She’s pawing on a few of the people while strutting around the room, so she apparently hasn’t made her selection from the menu yet. (Jump shot of Christina screaming for no apparent reason and then grabbing her crotch. Did it say something scary?)

While Christina continues to peruse the offerings in the main room of the sex club, we get other shots of Christina doing things like holding her face, wearing what might be a plastic raincoat, letting us get a closeup of her designer sunglasses, and showing that she can indeed pull off about 400 different hairstyles and still look cute. Well, as cute as one can be while dripping with “personal lubricant” and running around in clothing that is normally used to restrain the criminally insane.

Then the sex addicts in the main room decide to do a line dance, because that’s always a nice form of foreplay. As they prance about, Raincoat Christina decides that she really needs to caress the thighs of a woman hanging from the ceiling. (No explanation is given as to why the woman is in this predicament, the tramp is just there all the sudden.) Oh my, there’s a startling shot showing that Raincoat Christina just figured out what’s for dinner, and she gets busy with that. Seems Christina must have really liked gym class in high school.

Back to the main room, where people are still waving their arms and thrusting their crotches to the beat. (I’m not sure why the girls are all dancing together in power formation, and the guys seem to be dancing with just themselves and apparently listening to a different song, but I haven’t been to any sex clubs lately so I’m sure there’s been some changes.) There IS one point when everybody jumps in the air at the same time, and that’s kind of fun, but it doesn’t really prove anything.

Meanwhile, all the side sex shows are still going on, proving that Christina is a very busy girl. I think my favorite bit is when she makes the army of poodle-haired look-alikes do aerobics, sort of a twisted commercial for the L.A. Fitness that just opened in Stepford. Not so crazy about the business with Christina crawling on the ground and lapping from a dog bowl, because Madonna already did that back in the day with the “Express Yourself” video, and people, once Madonna has done it, there’s no point in you even trying to do it yourself, because it won’t be the same. (They teach you this in “Self-Promotion 101”, the first day of class.)

Anyway, Christina and all her little friends keep gyrating about in all the various settings. They seem to be having a good time, which is nice, but these people really need to calm down if they actually want to hook up. (In one interesting shot, Christina proves that she can continue singing the song whilst wearing a designer wetsuit and scratching her back with her extremely-high heels at the same time. This is something you can only do if you are pop star who can afford a personal trainer.)

Right after Christina sings the bit about having lost her mind (at least she’s honest), the jump-cutting kicks into high gear. More fun with pet food bowls, dressing like a mummy while perched on a red velvet chair, and Christina showing that her fingers are just as limber as her legs, flipping us off if we don’t care for her singing about her hoo-hoo and frolicking with randy people wearing pointless shreds of clothing who can grab her breasts in time to the beat.

Now Christina has managed to come up with a “Blade Runner” hairdo and a dress that was run over by a tractor. This Christina really likes to run her fingers over her neck, but she might just be trying to get some of the bobby pins out, because that hairdo looks WAY too tight. Cut to 8 shirtless guys wearing jeans and doing a line dance in a parking lot where it’s rainy and dark. They’re cute and muscular and all, but why would they want to do this?

It seems that Christina is wondering the same thing, so she puts on a red bra and panties to go check it out. The guys don’t explain anything, but they do form a circle around Christina and pretend like they are banging on drums while she acts like her crotch is about to explode. Perhaps this is a tribal ritual from one of those countries where they still don’t get satellite TV.

Now Christina is doing another Madonna tribute, hopping around on a giant Art Deco staircase and fiddling with a monocle. (Oh, and there’s also something about a hooker choir in a church, but it’s not really clear what they are doing in this particular House of the Lord, other than some choreography that involves slut stilettos and g-strings. That’s one offering plate that you probably shouldn’t touch without wearing latex gloves.)

Next we have Christina walking out of a clothes closet, most likely because her hair is too big and bushy to stand in there comfortably. She’s holding a Molotov cocktail, which she casually tosses over her shoulder into the closet, then assumes a sexy stance which actually looks like it might require a chiropractor if she does that too much. (I guess those clothes were SO last season and it was time for them to go. Burning the house to the ground is one way to take care of that.)

Shameless plug of Christina’s new line of fragrances, with the camera lingering lovingly on two of the glamorous bottles. Oh wait, the plug continues, with Christina, back in the red panties and bra, practically dousing herself with gallons of the perfume. Apparently this is some good stuff, because it causes a sweaty stud to magically appear in the room with her.

And I guess the fragrance gets into the air vents of the sound stage, because suddenly everyone in all the set pieces erupts into a mad whirl of pawing each other and tossing bits of clothing about. While Christina straddles her Magic Man, the rest of the gang gets busy clawing, riding, flipping hair, changing partners with every third word of the song, and line-dancing whenever there’s enough floor space.

The alarming carnality reaches a peak and then recedes with the whispering end of the song. We are left with Christina having managed to find some of her clothes and staring directly into the camera, acting all innocent, pure, and incapable of doing anything we’ve just seen her do.

Uh huh.

　

Click Here to Watch the Video on YouTube.

Backup Dancers From Hell: Kesha - “We R Who We R”

We start off with an intergalactic digital message from outer space. It’s probably a distress signal, warning us that Kesha has made another video. Or maybe they’re just letting us know that there’s a sale at Macy’s in the Alpha Romeo galaxy. Aliens can be so confusing sometimes.

Anyway, we’re in some traffic tunnel, where we have flashing police lights and somebody’s dripping-wet hands placed on a side wall like they really don’t understand how to do push-ups. Oh, and there’s about 5 billion of Kesha’s party friends marching toward us in skanky outfits, which has become Kesha’s patented video dance move. Something has exploded behind them, but no one seems to care.

Close-up of Kesha, and somebody has glued Mini-Cooper car bumpers to her eyebrows. Kesha doesn’t seem to mind this, but she’d much prefer that we pay attention to her fingernails, waving her hands about like a Geisha girl on crack. Looks like someone spent a long time creating little metal cityscapes on each nail, and while this is interesting in a way, I’m not sure this is something I would recommend. It seems like they’d be heavy, throwing you off balance all the time when you try to walk to the bar for another round. And how in the world does this woman get through airport security?

Anyway, doesn’t matter, now we have Kesha tromping around in the tunnel, doing a tribute to old-school Madonna when Madge went through that Ponytail Blond Ambition phase. Sadly, this look isn’t quite successful for Kesha. Maybe it’s because she mysteriously chose to wear a strap of machine gun bullets with her outfit. Or maybe it’s just that Kesha is too short, with the big-ass ponytail making her look like something the Evil Stepmother would pick up and ring when she needed Cinderella to wash her feet.

Okay, time for more close-ups of Kesha, only now she’s wearing sparkly-blue eyeliner and a severe hairstyle that is reminiscent of that tarty youngster that sang with “Bow Wow Wow” back in the day. (Maybe Kesha is doing a tribute to all of her musical idols? Probably not.) Back to Ponytail Kesha, who feels inspired to grasp her breast whenever possible, as well as make hand motions that could be interpreted as a death threat if she wandered into the wrong part of Los Angeles.

More explosions in the tunnel, to keep things lively, followed by Kesha modeling more fingernail jewelry for QVC. Then Car Bumper Kesha seems to be having a migraine, or maybe her eyebrows are actually magnets that keep pulling her metal-tipped fingers toward her head. It’s a lot of work being hip and fashionable.

Two cars race through the tunnel and then disappear, signaling all the Kesha Kids to pile into the now-vacant street and begin to gyrate without breaking the shellac on their hairdos. Throughout this mess, we keep getting glimpses of a police car at the far end of the tunnel. Why he’s letting these people pogo about on a public thoroughfare, I don’t really know. Maybe he’s scared of them. Or maybe he’s been instructed to keep the Kesha Kids in the tunnel as long as possible so maybe their parents will stop drinking.

Now we might be at a dance club, but it’s hard to tell these days when you’re not sure if people are actually dancing of if there’s been a mass reaction to the shellfish. There are two ladies who might be DJ’s, but they might also be lifeguards, considering their attire. Oh, and we have lots of bottles of tequila, with some bodiless hands pouring the contents into shot glasses so we can understand how that process works. This leads to a montage of somebody’s booty shaking near the tequila bottles, and Kesha convinced that rubbing her hand on the side of her face is alluring.

At one point, Kesha waves about a crucifix on a chain, another shout-out to Madonna. Unless Kesha thinks that she just invented this look, not having been born when Madonna first rolled around in a wedding dress on the MTV stage, letting us all know that she was going to be a star whether we wanted her to or not. Luckily, we did, so that worked out okay.

We also get shots of somebody using a laptop and scrolling through the available faces for an online dating service. I’m thinking Kesha really doesn’t have a need for that sort of thing, but who knows. Maybe it’s hard to get a date when 50 million people have already seen your naughty bits in music videos.

More happy, bouncing people. Lots of them. During this bit, Kesha is wearing a modified, and mostly torn, American flag for her outfit. And her hair has been forced to look like amber waves of grain billowing in the wind. Kesha loves her country. Especially the profit part.

The music suddenly stops and Kesha appears to be standing on the roof of a building. (It’s hard to tell, because we can see her sparkly panties under the torn flag shirt, and we can’t really focus.) Kesha raises her hands (in an “Oh Mighty Isis!“ stance) and commands a DJ to turn it up. Well, this unseen DJ misunderstands and instead starts chopping up Kesha’s vocals so that she says “up” 46-thousand times until you’re ready to claw your face. Even Kesha can’t stand the sound of her voice for that long, so she hurls herself over the side of the building.

She then plummets for a quite a while before landing, unscathed, in the arms of the dancing Kesha Kids. The Kids then crowd-surf Kesha’s adored body around the tunnel while another intergalactic message is received from outer space. (It’s probably High Command, inquiring if one of their spacecraft crashed, but no, it’s just Kesha, trying to get more attention.)

And that’s about it. We have another montage of all the Kesha’s either singing, dancing, wiggling their arms, or waving jewelry about and screaming that there are only 20 items left so we better get on the phone, pronto. And we have some more explosions, but that is SO two minutes ago and we need to move on.

The video ends with a final intergalactic message. This one probably translates into “Hey kids, run out and buy the new Kesha album right now or you will be social outcasts in school come Monday morning!” Or something like that. I’m still distracted by the sparkly panties….

　

Click Here to Watch the Video on YouTube.

Idiot Fondue: Case Study #35

Dear Dr. Brian: “I have so often been asked (by straight boys predominantly) why it is that lesbians indulge in sex toys (for the enjoyment of penetration) when they have so obviously chosen to not include the opposite sex. I have a pat answer I reply with, but I was wondering if you’d even counseled anyone in this regard.

Best to you,
The Bexx


Dearest The,

“I truly appreciate your frankness, and I am nearly vibrating with joy at the fact that you have chosen me for your consultation. I greatly relish the opportunity to discuss in detail the situation you describe, but please allow me one moment while I gather my notes on the matter. Please hold.”

Dr. Brian calmly punches a button on his phone, then viciously jabs a button on another device, one that should open a line of communication directly with his assistant, Lanae, but this did not always prove to be the case. “Lanae!”

No immediate response, but there were subtle sounds of what might be a queen bee ingesting one of her slow-ass workers who had irritated her for the final time.

“Lanae, I know you’re there. I can hear what sounds like chewing. Are you eating again? You know I don’t care for you doing that when I need you assistance.”

Now the soundtrack changed to that of a loud, laborious gulp, followed by a belch that was far from delicate. “How was I supposed to know that you were going to call me right as I was biting into a pastry? It’s from Boudreaux’s Bakery. Chocolate cherry. I was overcome, okay?”

Dr. Brian sighed. “Of course you should have expected me to ring. You just sent me a very direct and graphic woman without any warning. We have discussed this. I was completely caught off guard, nearly spilling my carefully-prepared chicory coffee when she launched into some mess about vaginal penetration. I need to know if something like that is on the horizon.”

Lanae audibly sucked at her teeth, not willing to miss a single gram of sugared decadence. “I didn’t know that she was one of those. She didn’t seem like it to me. To be fair, I was already licking the wax paper I had unwrapped off my pastry, but I do believe I still would have caught a phrase like that. She must be one of those stealth lesbians that are all sweet until they get in the door.”

“So you knew she was a lesbian? You could have at least mentioned that to me. One has to be very careful these days about word-slippage. You didn’t ask her what lesbian issues she might have?”

Now Lanae sighed. “Dr. Brian, I’m not a lesbian. How would I even know what questions to ask? Is there a brochure? You’re the doctor.”

“There’s absolutely no reason to be snippy.”

Lanae, empowered by the violent amounts of sugar now racing through her bloodstream, begged to differ. “I’m not the one getting all heated and calling people just as they are contemplating a cherry, something this girl hasn’t known intimately for forty years. Besides, I’m fairly certain you can handle this. After all, I’m not the one who was arrested for nudity and possible bestiality in Paris. Shall we talk about that?”

Dr. Brian did not have an immediate response at hand.

“Thought so. I believe I have won this round. Now, I’m going to try eating another pastry without interruption, and you can go determine how you can assist Miss Penetration. We have bills that need to be paid.”

Click.

Dr. Brian sighed once more, then punched at the hold button on his phone. “Miss Bexx?”

Now a third person was sighing, indicating general dissatisfaction for all. “Doctor, I don’t care for that ‘Miss’ title. It’s offensive on two levels, underscoring the fact that I remain unmarried and am therefore unworthy, which is crap, and further irritates me since lesbians cannot get married in most places. It’s belittling. I’m sure you understand.”

“What term or appellation would you prefer?”

“Well, I’m known as ‘Sheba’ in certain circles, for reasons that probably won’t interest you, and for a time I was known as ‘Ovaria’ when I stupidly joined that cult, and one of my exes came up with a few choice labels, post-breakup, that were supposed to be derogatory, but I actually found rather amusing and started using them as screen names. I go by many titles, Dr. Brian, but I suppose for today you can simply address me as ‘Goddess’. Unless you must refrain for spiritual or religious reasons.”

Dr. Brian responded immediately. “I shall be delighted to refer to you as a goddess.”

“Great. That pleases me. Perhaps I’ll pay the bill for your services after all. Now, let’s get back to my original question. This plane will be taking off shortly, and this political grand-standing can be tiresome at the wrong moments. This is one of them.”

Dr. Brian was mystified. “You’re at the airport? On a plane?”

“Lesbians are still allowed to fly, Dr. Brian. Except in certain backwoods countries, where folks fully expect God or Allah or Glenn Beck to smack the plane down if the muff divers get on board.”

Dr. Brian was now intrigued. “So the people around you can hear everything you’re saying?”

“They could hear me, until they all asked to be relocated after I started talking to you. Even the flight attendant won’t come near me, but eventually she won’t have a choice. I’m using the abandoned beverage cart to chill my vodka, and these people are going to get thirsty at some point. Now, once again, let’s get back to my original question.”

“Why is it that straight people are so mystified with lesbians who use lusty equipment to plunge, prod and find Jesus?”

Bexx guffawed. “Very good, Doctor. We’re approaching the same level. Carry on.”

“Well, this does remind me of a story-”

“I’m not interested in fairy tales. Some bitch loses a shoe and gets to marry a prince? Not in my book.”

“I think you’ll like this one. It’s served me well in the past.”

“I don’t know.” (Sudden sounds of a garbled public announcement being broadcast through the plane.) “Well, damn,” uttered Bexx.

“Flight delay?” asked Dr. Brian.

“Well, not really. Sort of. Apparently they have an issue with odd sounds coming from a set of luggage. Probably mine.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Who else on this plane would have a set of designer Martina Navratilova luggage, with the tennis racket zipper pulls? It’s not like this plane is going to Palm Springs.” (More sighing.) “I hope I‘m not gonna get arrested again. I’ll have to call you back. Don’t go anywhere.”

Click.

Dr. Brian stabbed at the intercom again. “Lanae, do we still have that Merlot that Madonna sent us after the incident in Malawi?”

Lanae, not consuming anything at the moment, responded instantly. “One bottle or two?”

“Everything we’ve got.”
　

Click Here to Read the Next Entry in This Series…

Searching For Signal: #156 - “Big Brother” - Season 12, Episode 18

We start with a quick review of the mayhem from the last episode (people crying in the swamp room, Lane playing “brother” and tossing about “sister” Britney like a rag doll as they both giggle and pretend that this has nothing to do with lust, and some revealing documentary footage that Kathy is unable to close her eyes at night after 40 years of mascara abuse). Oh, and the Announcer guy says “The Brigade got hit with a grenade” (Lane’s nomination), meaning even the BB producers are using that dumb-ass Brigade slogan. Blech.

Then we get to the new stuff, right after Ragan and Lane were put on the block, and we have a round of Diary Room confessions.

Ragan: “I am devastated. I am having a full-blown meltdown.” (Girl, you have those with simple things like people not putting the toothpaste cap back on tight enough.)

Lane: “I don’t know why I’m up.” (This does not surprise me, Lane. You’re confused by breakfast cereals.)

Brendon: “Lane is a pawn, Ragan is the target. But neither of them has had to fight to stay in this game.” (Which is totally stupid, making it personal instead of strategic. Say, Brendon, do you often have breakfast with Lane?)

Britney: “I think Brendon has a bigger plan. He’s not after Ragan or Lane.” (This would be an interesting thought if we weren’t talking about Brendon. After all, he hasn’t been thinking clearly since he was first caressed by the billowing synthetic fibers in Rachel’s hair extensions.)

Then we have Ragan in the Swamp Room, crying and talking to himself. “This is my opportunity to shine.” Then he blows his nose with enough force to create a tsunami, which is now headed to a poor Far Eastern country where nobody has flood insurance and the houses are made out of wax paper.

Brendon and Lane, chatting. Brendon: “You’re not the target. And if Ragan wins Power of Veto, Matt or Britney goes home.”

Time to pick players for the Power of Veto Competition. Brendon draws Enzo, Ragan gets Kathy (cue laugh track), and Lane, with a “Houseguest’s Choice” draw, picks Hayden. (Enzo in the Diary Room: “If I win, I’m safe.” Then I guess you’ll have to go with Plan B, because you seem unable to win squat.)

Quick scene with Ragan pouting in the Diary Room, because it’s just not FAIR that he might get sent home before he can finish his two weeks as The Saboteur. Interesting that you should bring that up, Ragan. Because really, all we’re seeing is Darth Vader videos, and nothing where you have to actually sneak about the house and do actual work. Explain to me again why you even deserve the $20,000? Just wondering.

Then we have some weird robot thing coming out of the Diary Room and telling the slumbering houseguests to “wake up”, and then making fun of them, because he’s the “Zingbot 3000” or some such. It’s pretty stupid, and this is one of those shame-filled moments when I realize that my life could be better spent doing anything other than watching this mess.

Oh, but the robot is also going to host the Veto Competition, so I guess he does serve some obscure purpose. Everybody tromps out to the courtyard, and we learn that this game involves carrying puzzle pieces across a balance beam and a spinning disc thing, and then assembling 4 puzzles that spell out “VETO”. And if you fall off at any point, you’re eliminated. Ready, go!

Right away, Kathy: “I’m taking my time on this one.”

Britney in the Diary Room: “You’re taking your time on this one? Oh, on THIS one. Okay. Because it’s not a race or anything.” Britney really is funny, when she’s not spending her time lacerating everyone around her with negative whining. And Monet getting the boot has actually calmed Britney down a little bit.

Diary Room moments for both Ragan and Lane, both of them doing the “gotta win” spiel and crossing their fingers. Yes, we know you need to win. But we don’t need to hear you say that 46 times in one episode.

Kathy in the Diary Room, complaining about the spinning disc part of the competition, accompanied by shots of her gingerly maneuvering across the disc without any urgency at all: “I don’t even ride the Ferris wheels at the carnival.” Well, it may not have been the Ferris wheel, but you’ve clearly ridden something. For a very long time.

Shots of Brendon obviously looking at Ragan doing the puzzles, and thereby cheating. He’s such a good sport.

Kathy is the first to fall and is eliminated. This is a total surprise and everyone is stunned. Not.

In the end, Ragan wins, meaning Brendon will have to name a replacement nominee. (Ragan in the Diary Room: This means, one, that I get to stay, and two, that I’m going to get the $20,000 for being The Saboteur. Yay! And three, I’m still wondering what Ragan really did that justifies that $20K. Maybe I’m just bitter.)

Brendon in the Diary Room: “I still have Britney and Matt” to put up. (Again, why are they your focus?)

Britney in the Diary Room: “Now I have to talk to the Neanderthal again.” (Again, sucking up is intrinsic to this game. I know you got the BB handbook. Use it.)

Lane: “We can’t have anyone in The Brigade going up against me.” (Well, since it’s quickly coming to the point where The Brigade will be the only people in the house, it’s bound to happen. Not happy that your little Brigade has slid under the radar so far, but it will be fun to watch you four tear at each other when it comes down to that.)

Cut to commercials. Can we get a moratorium on the BB advertisement where Monet (I think) screams “It’s party time. Yeah!” Sick of that.

Britney, Ragan and Matty in the Swamp Room. They basically agree that Kathy is the one that should go up on the block and then home. Then Matt wanders out to get some slop. Ragan turns to Britney and goes into full Bette Davis mode: Neither Matt nor I will ever screw you over. “I love you!” Then he starts sobbing. Britney, startled and not sure what to do, jabs herself in the eye with a finger so she can squeeze out a tear.

Hayden and Enzo, somewhere. Enzo: “If Matt goes home, it’s better for us.” Then they grip each other in places that you probably shouldn’t grip if you’re not in a relationship. Hayden in the Diary Room: He basically wants Matt out, because he wins stuff.

Brendon wanders into the HOH Room, where the Pandora’s box has been activated again, tempting him. He reads the letter about something good OR bad happening to the house if he accepts, but then he sees a video with Rachel splashing water on herself and he’s gone. “I choose most definitely” to open the box. (I’m thinking he’s already done that, but I digress.) Once he activates Pandora, he goes inside the secret chamber and finds another envelope.

“You get a 24-hour rest from the game,” shipped off to a nice vacation spot. “I get to see Rachel!” he proclaims, and wanders out a door on the other side of the chamber.

Back in the house, the doorbell rings. Everybody scampers to see who it is, and it’s Rachel. “I’m back, bitches!” (Britney in the Diary Room: “I wanted to throw up on myself.” Have you ever noticed how many things make Brit want to hurl? Perhaps she should see somebody about that.) Rachel: “Somebody opened Pandora’s box and I’m here for 24 hours.”

Then she immediately gets into a shouting match with Ragan. For the record, she started it. After they spar for a bit, Rachel runs up to the HOH Room, fully expecting to find her honey, Brendon. The door is locked. Hmmm.

Downstairs, Britney thinks that Brendon has been locked in Pandora’s box for an equal 24 hours. Good call, but not quite right. Rachel tromps back down the spiral staircase, and goes after Ragan again, with this round ending in Ragan spitting: “Count your friends in this house. Done already?”

And then they fight some more. Ragan asks “Ray-tress” to bring him a cocktail, then offers this: “You could have been decent, but you came in just like you left.”

This is not going to be a pleasant day in the life, just sayin’.

Then Rachel throws out this, which marks her for extinction in my book: “Do you have to be the biggest bitch because you’re gay?”

Oh, no she didn’t.

Ragan: “No, it’s because you’re a horrible person.”

And this goes on and on and ON. Ragan is actually very sharp and witty with his responses, while Rachel basically flips her hair and refuses to accept the fact that she might be out of line. (Rachel: “I’ll make every minute of the 24 hours miserable for you!”)

Now, the thing that bugs me the most about this extended confrontation? That nobody else in the house has Ragan’s back during the mess. Rachel is out of her mind with mean vindictiveness, yet they all look the other way. Because Rachel’s on the jury? Please. That girl ain’t votin’ for nobody except Brendon. She’s a lost cause. So you people not coming to Ragan’s defense are just pathetic.

Really don’t like the people in the house this season.

Later, Matt discovers that the HOH Room is now unlocked. So everybody thunders up there to see what’s going on. Close-up of Rachel pounding on the Pandora door and begging for Brendon to come out.

Cut to Brendon at the “vacation house”, wandering around and calling Rachel’s name. Eventually he finds a card explaining that “Rachel’s enjoying her vacation somewhere else”. Brendon: At least she’s having a nice time wherever she is. Then his clueless ass jumps in the pool and splashes around.

Back at the BB house, Rachel stomps out to the courtyard and proceeds to torment Ragan about her making cookies, knowing full well (courtesy of Britney) that he’s a Have-Not and can’t eat the cookies. And here we go with another round of bitter screaming. This goes on forever, so I’ll just throw out some choice quotes.

Ragan: “The only thing honest about you is the pimples on your face.”

Ragan: “Get on your broom and fly back into the house.”

Rachel: “Nobody likes you!”

Ragan: “You are the most vile devil child in the world.”

Rachel: “You suck at being gay.”

Ragan: “You will get what is coming to you. Take it as a tip and learn from it.”

Ragan stomps into the house and slams the sliding glass door. Rachel just stands there, unable to comprehend what she has done wrong, while Britney pretends to play pool with… I don’t know, one of The Brigade Boys. Again, nobody defends Ragan.

Rachel marches up to the HOH Room and uses some pretzels to spell out Matt’s name. The she trounces back downstairs, finds Enzo and hugs him, them convinces Kathy to stagger back up to the HOH Room with her. (I’m impressed that Kathy can navigate the spiral staircase. Who knew she had it in her?) Once there, Rachel: I spelled Matt out on purpose. Make sure that nobody comes up here.

Then Rachel leaves the house, her stay finally ended, and blood pressures drop.

Kathy races to tell Hayden and Enzo that Rachel left Matt’s name upstairs. Based on the expressions the two guys have, I’m not really sure they know who Matt is.

Later still, back up to the HOH Room. Brendon wanders out of the Pandora room, freshly returned from his vacation in wherever. He spies the pretzel message from Rachel. (In the Diary Room: Matt? Done!) Then he moseys out on the upstairs balcony, where he learns that Rachel was here and he wasn’t. Surprisingly, he doesn’t take his own life.

Kathy: “It was pretty dramatic in here.”

Understatement. Of. The. Century.

Brendon drags Britney up to the HOH Room. Brendon: Just checking to make sure our agreement still holds. Britney: “100 percent.” (Britney in the Diary Room: Are you kidding? I will promise my first-born child.)

Brendon and Ragan in the HOH Room. Ragan: “People need to see you as you, not as Rachel and Brendon.” Then Ragan hints that Matt should go up, but cautions that if Britney is nominated, she’ll go home, but Matt may not.

And we have another Darth Vader video. “There’s a competition tomorrow that could change the course of the game. Get some sleep.” The houseguests scurry to get some shut-eye. But Darth keeps coming back on the monitor. All night long. So nobody gets any sleep, and Kathy in particular looks like we should just throw some dirt on her face and call it done. In the last Darth video, the bleary-eyed houseguests learn that there really isn’t a competition. Hee hee.

Ragan in the Diary Room: He’s very happy that his latest Saboteur prank has everybody in an uproar. Then Liza Minnelli walks in again, and asks him where he got his blouse.

Time for the Veto Meeting.

Ragan removes himself from the block. Natch.

Brendon nominates Matt as a replacement. Not so natch, but still.

Ragan slams the Veto box closed, triggering some final Diary Room moments.

Ragan: He’s really sad that Matt had to go up. But not so sad that he’s going to forfeit his $20K for being The Saboteur.

Enzo: The worst has finally happened. It might be time for Matt to go home. Then Enzo gets distracted by a mirror and some catnip.

Britney: I have a huge sense of relief. Does anybody have some hand lotion?

Lane: I’m gonna do what I gotta do. Lane, you have no idea what that might be.

Matt: I’m not worried. I’ve got the Madonna Veto. I can’t wait to see Brendon’s face when I use it.

Me: I can’t wait, either. Especially since I expected you to use the Diamond Veto as soon as you were put on the block, because isn’t this the Veto meeting? Why wait? Did I miss a memo? Probably.

So if Matt uses Madonna right before the actual vote, anything could happen. Oh boy.

Roll end credits.