Friday, October 13, 2006

It's Unnatural, You and That Monkey

Have you ever seen the movie "Monkey Shines"? The George Romero movie? I don't remember it being any good, but man. I mainly remember the guy sucking on a dry cleaning bag, and the monkey throwing lit matches at the lady. The whole unrequited jealous crazy monkey thing is a hell of a thing.

The Sun is a Horrible Monster

The sun is a horrible monster. I hate it.

I left a message for Bazbo, leaving her the news, but she never called back. I kind of drank a silly amount, waiting. Buncha whiskey. I feel like shit. Work can go to hell.

Thursday, October 12, 2006

Best Cat and Pie in Show

Woo hoo, woo hoo, woo hoo hoo hoo hoo! I got a couple more pieces of Chute swag for Bazbo. One of the bags (another zero tag, if that means anything) had enough room by the padlocks for me to sort of get my fingers in there and snag a couple of photos.

One of them is this bunch of rich suits standing out in the woods (trees) with these golden shovels with yellow ribbons tied around the handles. They're all standing in a row and grinning at the camera, wearing these shiny gold hard hats, pretending they're about to dig a big hole.

You know and I know they're not going to dig a hole. Some guy like me is gonna come in afterwards and dig their hole.

The other picture doesn't have any trees in it, so maybe Bazbo will let me keep this one because it cracks me up: It's this well-to-do looking couple in front of a big velvet curtain. The woman is holding this big orange housecat, and the man is holding a pie. The big orange cat and the pie both have blue ribbons on them. The man and the woman are standing there wearing fancy evening clothes with this blue ribbon cat and this blue ribbon pie, next to a sign on an easel that says BEST CAT AND PIE IN SHOW. They look pretty happy about the whole thing, about having the best cat and pie in show.

Must've been a State Fair, or something.

Tuesday, October 10, 2006

We are Making Great Strides for The Cigar Smoking Ape

Go here: The Subservient Chicken. Tell the chicken "And a Chimp Shall Lead Us." You'll see what I mean.

Now, I'm not saying this Corporation knows properly of Ape, no. But there are people within the Corporation who are of Ape. Those of Ape are changing the Corporation, through the medium of a chicken. And if a chicken leads to Ape, there's no telling what marvels we are capable of. Just no telling.

There are many Corporations becoming Ape from within.

We are Winning, Smash by Smash!

Nothing in the freaking Chute Room today, by the way. But still. This made my night, friends.

Monday, October 09, 2006

My Fair Lady

Nothing in the Chute Room today, but that figures. Vanderboom didn't say anything about me calling in sick on Friday. Didn't say anything about my "priorities" or anything like that. Which is good, because I would have smashed him. I'm just biding my time.

Last night I watched My Fair Lady. It's always on, but I hadn't bothered until now. There were just a bunch of torture shows on other channels, so I watched it.

It was great. This old skeeze enslaves this guttertrash chick, then he and his pervy buddy make her put on all these costumes and kinky hats. It's pretty cool.

The chick meets this stalker at a kinky hat show they're having at this horse race, and the stalker falls for her because she goes around talking about ass all the time.

They don't really get into the stalker angle as much as they could have, as much as they would have now, because it was filmed in 1964. It's a musical, so they do give the stalker this big theme song while he's lurking around outside the house where the two old skeezes keep the chick locked up. The stalker creeps around the yard, staring at the front door all bug eyed and singing about how he's never gonna leave the street where she lives so he can grab her when she comes out.

At the end the guttertrash chick escapes and the stalker nearly gets her, but she's got Stockholm Syndrome so she just goes back to the old guy who imprisoned her in the first place and he starts right back in making her fetch things for him while he sits in this big comfortable chair.

I know most people hate old movies, but that one's tripped out.

Sunday, October 08, 2006

Pornography and Wisconsin, with Kringle

So I got up this morning and ate a little bit of the kringle. Then I went out to buy some coffee, because I had none.

I passed this little guy on the street carrying a two foot stack of shrink-wrapped pornography. The top one had some big skank on it. There's a magazine store around the corner the direction he was going. So it was a delivery, not a purchase. That'd be a lot of pornography to buy in one go. Unless it was a present or something.

Then I passed this big tattooed hipster guy wearing a T-shirt that said "Freak Out!" He was talking to I guess his wife, because she was pushing a stroller with a little tot in it. As he passed, I heard him saying, "If they're unhappy, they should get their ass to the cheese convention in middle America." Their kid in the stroller was playing with a turkey baster.

So. I'm gonna look up more about Wisconsin, instead of pornography.

I don't know what the turkey baster means.

Saturday, October 07, 2006

Bazbo Drops by with a Kringle

Bazbo rang my buzzer this morning, crazy early for a Saturday, like ten o'clock. She brought over a cranberry kringle. It's this sort of round coffeecake donut thing with a hole in the middle that looks like a small deflated inner tube or slot car race track. She special orders them from Wisconsin, where she's from. We talked about kringles for awhile, she says they're a perfect Ape food, and The Cigar Smoking Ape runs a cooperative in Racine that makes them. It's pretty damn good, tell you what.

It was small talk about kringles and Wisconsin, and all the time I've got the disc and the photo just sitting there on the table. I didn't know how to bring it up, and didn't know why she wasn't bringing it up, since that's why she was here.

She was looking especially fine, by the way. She's blonde, smells good.

I asked her about Ape Camp next weekend, and she said, "Forget about that right now, you don't need to be at Ape Camp, we need you where you are most of all."

I was all crestfallen, and she put her hand on my arm and told me I was further along than most of the people going to Ape Camp anyhow. "And this is proof," she said, and she picked up the photo of trees. "This is perfect," she said, "this is exactly what we need right now."

I started to tell her about the film of Roy Orbison eating dog food off a frisbee with a wooden spoon, and she shrugged. She said, "Orbison's gone, but we're here and growing."

She showed me the photo of the trees, and pointed out that you can sort of see some sort of manhole cover set in the ground. A cistern, she said. I don't know, I guess she can sort of see that, but I couldn't see anything but blurry trees and leaves and stuff. "More like this," she said. "There's lots more of this coming through your job that we don't even know about. Anything with trees, we need." She said The Cigar Smoking Ape needs it above all else now, and I was the only person who could get it for the Ape of Us All.

I quickly figured I wouldn't be quitting my job any time soon. "So I'm not going to be able to quit my job any time soon, am I?" I asked.

She smiled kind of sly and sideways and said she thought she might be able to help me out with that soon. She said she'll get ahold of me by Wednesday, but in the meantime to keep doing what I'm doing, and to watch out for "anything with trees" coming through the Chute Room.

Then she said she had to go. She took the photo and the disc, but left the kringle for me. I'm gonna eat it slow.

When she left she kissed me at the door.

Friday, October 06, 2006

Head Hurts

My head hurts. Called in sick with the brown bottle flu. Don't know where Bazbo is, she still hasn't called me back. Woulda just quit on the phone, told Vanderboom where to go, wanna talk to Bazbo first. Freaking Roy Orbison. Man.

A Little Drunker, Still Weird: Henrietta Pussycat

This Roy Orbison thing is getting me down.

I don't get it. The guy made good money, right? I always liked his songs.

This is kinda shaking up my world. It's like that Mr. Rogers bootleg video some buddies of mine had back in high school, they thought it was hilarious but it just made me sad and anxious and nervous.

That episode where they replaced the Henrietta Pussycat puppet with a mummified human hand. Nobody at PBS noticed at first, and it ran in reruns for awhile until they pulled it and erased all mention of it from the syndication catalogue. It was one of the Purple Planet episodes, with Purple Panda talking to this mummified hand about how lying makes your friends feel bad.

I kind of remembered that episode from when I was little, because I loved Purple Panda and all that. But I remembered Purple Panda talking to Henrietta Pussycat, not a mummified human hand. But there it was on the bootleg--a mummified human hand living in that tree next to X the Owl.

Messed up.

Why was Roy Orbison eating dog food off a frisbee with a wooden spoon?

Thursday, October 05, 2006

A Little Drunk, but This is Weird: Roy Orbison

I still haven't heard back from Bazbo. I called her a couple of times tonight.

And now maybe I've had a little whiskey. You wanna make something of it?

The photo I took was just a photo of some trees, all kinda blurry, none too exciting.

It's this disc that's weirded out, man. First I put it in the stereo, and it was just this screechy howly noise. So, okay, I put it in my computer, and it said I didn't have the software to open it. I tried opening it as a text file, but just got a bunch of computer numbery junk.

So then a little bit ago I put it in my DVD player. That did the trick.

It's this little movie that looks like old surveillance video. The time sig tag in the corner says "Jul 7 1979" and it's just Roy Orbison sitting at a table in a kitchen, eating dog food off a frisbee with a wooden spoon. This big Alpo can is on the table next to the frisbee. I can't tell what flavor it is. The footage is all black and white and smudgy, but sure enough that's Roy Orbison, with those glasses and that hair.

Why was Roy Orbison eating dog food off a frisbee with a wooden spoon? Why was it videotaped? Why's that coming through the Chute Room?

Where's Bazbo?

In the Chute Room: The Chute Room Comes Through!

I'm singing. I'm running around my place singing here. Today was the day! Today the Chute Room came through!

So like I said, I've been toiling away there in the Chute Room like a crazy person. Then this bag comes down the upper middle chute with a zero tag on it, so I'm supposed to stuff it down the middle bottom chute.

Except, like I said, lately I've been none too gentle with the bags when they come down. I notice this one's straps are a little frayed up where the padlock is, so I toss it around the room a bit. I was banging it against the sides of the bottom chutes, looking over my shoulder to make sure Vanderboom isn't standing there.

The bag has all kinds of junk in it, I can tell. I can hear hard things clanking against hard things, feel soft things shifting around, and it's heavy like it is when there's also stacks and stacks of paper. Your typical Chute Room bag.

I'm banging it around, then BLAMMO! A couple of the padlock straps snap and I'm spinning around spraying the contents all over the place. And yeah, it's documents and paperweights and CD-ROMs and old overalls and sports cleats and dried roses and photographs . . . a fine cross section of Chute Room swag.

Bazbo said it really didn't matter what I swiped, and I didn't have any time to be choosy. I grabbed a CD and a photograph and stuffed them down my pants. Then I hit the button on the wall and turned my back while Vanderboom and his jokers came in with the cart to spirit the mess away.

I was terrified that the jig was up, but the jig wasn't up. They just treated it normal.

I worked the rest of the day all sweaty in the crotch, with the CD and photo pinching my nether regions. I didn't dare mess with them, didn't want to get caught with 'em in my hands. I just checked in the bathroom to see if you could notice anything up and sweated out the day.

I called Bazbo's line and left her a message. I still haven't heard back. Where's she at?

Man, oh, man, oh, man, oh, man. I am absolutely singing over here. Guess who's gonna call in sick tomorrow? I'm gonna call in sick tomorrow! I may never have to go to the Chute Room again. Bang ZOOM!

Wednesday, October 04, 2006

Elaine Stritch at Liberty

I was flipping channels last night and saw the end of something called Elaine Stritch at Liberty.

It was this old lady in tights who screamed at an audience, then danced with a python. After awhile she brought out this container full of crickets and grubs and ate them while everybody howled.

Trippy stuff. No wonder this place is going to the dogs. Instead of the Apes.

And yeah, yeah: Chute Room update equals nada. I say tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow.

There's another Ape Camp coming up soon. I don't think I'll get to go if something doesn't turn up. If something doesn't turn up I'm going to go Ape ballistic.

Tuesday, October 03, 2006

Zombie in the Chute Room

I'm going completely out of it. Smash it. Smash it all.

Monday, October 02, 2006

I Am Going to Smash Everyone

Nothing! Nothing again today! And I wasn't gentle with the bags in the chute room, no, not at all. The bags would come down, and I'd fling them around, whacking them against the sides of the chutes, trying to get one of them to split open.

One of them has got to split open. If I can't get inside these bags, I can't talk to Bazbo again. If I can't talk to Bazbo again, I'm going to smash everyone.

I feel like an Ape. I feel like a raging, insane Ape. I'm Kongstyle, I'm Berzerker Ape, I'm all aroar.

Vanderboom came by the chute room today. I was standing there covered in sweat and breathing hard. He started to say something, but I just looked at him. I looked at him like I wanted to eat him. He just backed right on out of there. Keep back, Fool! Keep back or I'll tear you, I'll rend you! I'll crack the marrow from your bones. Don't mess with me at work, not now.

I've gotta get inside those bags.

Sunday, October 01, 2006

Since We Quit Being Apes

Nobody's gotten any smarter, or funnier, or prettier since we quit being apes.

We've got to become Ape again or we are lost.

If I don't discover something at work tomorrow, I am lost.

It's been a lost weekend. But here's something I was thinking about: If you put an angel in a blender on frappe, caramel comes out.

Saturday, September 30, 2006

Hating the Weekend Which is Crazy

Crap. Just crap. What the hell, man, it's like I don't even really care about the chute room or the bags or anything. I just want to call Bazbo. I want to call Bazbo and hear her voice. I want to see Bazbo. She is hot, by the way. I don't know if it's Ape to say that, but she's hot. She's all I can think about, but she was all firm about how I can't call her until I swipe something from one of the bags at work. So I'm all please break please break please break, but nothing. Just a normal week in the chute room. Normal except extra bad in the way that I'm all obsessed with it now, going in all early and staying extra late. And Vanderboom (who is not an asshole, he's just not ready for the Ape--like really, really not ready for the Ape) is being all "Nice to see you've taken stock of your life!" and "Glad to see you've decided to become a team player!"

He is really gonna be dealt with when the time comes.

I'm so depressed. And I can't wait to go back to work on Monday.

Thursday, September 28, 2006

Nothing Nothing Nothing

Just sort sort sort. Sort sort sort.

I had a cheeseburger for lunch, with onion rings. It's my favorite lunch.

Tuesday, September 26, 2006

Still Nothing

Stupid bags.

Monday, September 25, 2006

Nothing Today

I was hoping a bag would break right off the bat, be all fortuitous and lucky. Nope.

Sunday, September 24, 2006

What Bazbo Says

I finally got to talk to Bazbo. She called and we talked for awhile. I was afraid I might've come off freaky because I left so many messages on her voicemail while she was tearing down Ape Camp, but she said she was glad I'm getting so interested in Matters of Ape.

She said I shouldn't think of Vanderboom as an asshole, but consider him not ready for the Ape. I asked her what about if he's never going to be ready for Ape, and she said that could be true and if so it will be dealt with when the time comes, but until then just leave it in the hands of the Ape.

She also said I really can't come work for the Ape yet, just like I was afraid of, but she'll begin making a spot for me. Yes yes yes yes yes yes yes!

The sucky part is she said I need to keep working in the chute room, and that this is exactly what will make me Ape. The trial I must continue to endure. But she told me what I have to do: I have to keep working in the chute room, and any time the bag splits open I should take something from it. It doesn't matter if it's anything good or not--I just have to take it, hide it, and sneak it home. Which isn't going to be easy, because they check our backpacks and stuff. But it's what I need to do, and I'll do it definitely to Ape as Ape Should.

The supersucky part is that I can't call her again until I've brought something home, so that when I do call she'll know that it's High Priority and she'll drop everything and come right over. I asked her if I could email her and she said she doesn't have email, which blows.

But I have to do what I have to do, because I have to.

Saturday, September 23, 2006

In the Chute Room

Okay, so my job is at this big building downtown where they do all kinds of stuff, but my job is just in the chute room, which is this kind of grimy oversized closet with these three chutes up at the top of one wall, and then these three other chutes on the opposite wall by the floor.

I stand there and these big canvas mail sacks come down the top chutes. They're full of all kinds of stuff and padlocked shut. They've got these serial numbers stencilled across them. If the the serial number ends with a 2, 4 or 8 then I put the bag in the left-hand bottom chute and down it goes. If it ends with a 1, 3, 5, 6, 7 or 9 then I put the bag in the right-hand bottom chute and down it goes. If it ends with a 0, then it's the middle bottom chute. And guess what happens then? Yep, down it goes. It's pretty mindless work, but it's my paycheck so there you have it.

Usually it's really, really boring, except sometimes when a bag comes down one of the top chutes it splits open when it hits the floor. Like, once every couple of weeks or so. Then I hit this big button thing on the wall and a bell begins to ring and I'm supposed to face the wall and close my eyes. When the bell rings my idiotic boss Ed Vanderboom comes in with a cart and a couple other guys, they scoop up the mess and skedaddle on out of there. When the bell quits ringing, I open my eyes and go back to sorting.

Usually there's never anything really to see when a bag splits open, so this whole blind man's bluff thing is retarded. It's generally just a bunch of paper, or a bunch of little cardboard boxes with Christmas ornaments or something. Sometimes there's photos, and once it was a bunch of naked photos but all of ugly people. Mostly it's just a bunch of crap like you'd see at a really bad garage sale where you don't see anything you want.

I'm thinking about telling Vanderboom to screw off on Monday. Bazbo's supposed to get back to town tomorrow, so I'm gonna see what she thinks. I'm hoping maybe she can help get me a job with The Cigar Smoking Ape. I know I'm not nearly Ape enough yet, but I'm hoping maybe she can help put in a good word for me, or whatever.

Three cheers for The Cigar Smoking Ape!

Friday, September 22, 2006

Getting My Priorities Straight

Edward Vanderboom is an asshole. My number one priority is that everyone know this to be true. The guy really is an absolute dick.

After lunch I'm back working in the chute room he comes in and goes, "So, what have you been thinking about?"

And I'm bundling another bag down the chute, and I'm thinking, "I'm thinking you're an asshole."

But I told him, "I don't know," and he says, "Keep thinking, then."

Okay, dude. I think you're a ridiculous little fool who smells like sandwiches, and not in a good way. You're a yeasty smelling cretin who doesn't deserve the time of day. You wear these dumb little shoes on your dumb little feet that you think make you look cool but just make you all the more ridiculous for wearing them. You wear a tie in an office where nobody has to wear a tie. You're a clown. And not a fun clown, either. You're a clown who makes everybody unhappy and wish that you lived under a bridge where you'd cry all the time about how nobody loves you, because nobody does and nobody ever will.

I don't know how much longer I can take this job. I wish Bazbo would get back--she'd help me get my priorities straight. The Cigar Smoking Ape brings us closer to an understanding that positive action is required of us. But when faced with such a negative like Ed Vanderboom, wouldn't smacking him upside the head with a big piece of wood be a positive action?

You bet it would.

Trouble at Work

I'm in ten kinds of trouble at work. I was supposed to be in on Monday, of course, but then I went to Ape Camp instead. And I could have just called in sick, but because part of this whole Ape thing is extreme honesty, I called Ed Vanderboom (the boss of me) and told him I was going to Ape Camp. This morning he called me into his cube and he said I had to make a decision about my priorities.

I'd also brought in all these dubs of the speech and some brochures to give to everybody, and he didn't like that either. I hate to say hate, but I really kind of hate that guy.

It's not even like it's much of a job. I sort bags that come down a chute in the chute room, for crying out loud. It's not like skilled labor, or anything. I used to say a chimp could do it (I really did, I called it "chimp work"), but that was before I knew anything about The Cigar Smoking Ape.

I wish I could get ahold of Bazbo. Bazbo's this girl I met at Ape Camp. She was our Unit Leader, and she's really cool, I like her a lot. But she's still at the site breaking things down and won't be back until Sunday. I don't know what I'll do if I lose this job, I'm kinda check to check as it is.

All right, I'd better go finish my lunch break and get back to it.

A decision about my priorities. Can you believe that? The dude's not even close to Ape. He's non-Ape.

Thursday, September 21, 2006

The Cigar Smoking Ape Will Take You All the Way!

Yow, that was more than a rally, that was an experience. I didn't get back home until late last night and am I ever exhausted. I had no idea I'd be gone for days, but that's the way it goes with this stuff. More on the rally and the trip to the Ape Camp later, right now I just want to transcribe the opening speech from the rally itself. I bought a cassette of it afterwards. As rallies go, it was ridiculously rousing, and only confirms everything I've been thinking about the Chimp.

The rally itself was held down on the old festival grounds, they set up a big tent and had all these people out front blowing trumpets in front of these big banners that said HOORAY FOR THE CIGAR SMOKING APE and THREE CHEERS FOR THE CIGAR SMOKING APE. It was intense. There were maybe a couple hundred people there, and we all packed into the tent and sat on folding chairs. After the trumpet players came in and did a fanfare, Dagfinn Thune (he's Finnish) came onstage. He's the Group Leader for this region.

Here's the transcript of his opening speech:

THE CIGAR SMOKING APE WILL TAKE YOU ALL THE WAY!

I hesitate to mention The Cigar Smoking Ape--Live! At the Mecca Auditorium! Always Free! The subject has been covered, The Cigar Smoking Ape has been written about, sung and shouted about, analyzed by prestigious panels of prizewinning thinkers and interpreted in dance and dumbshow.

But there are still those who haven't taken The Cigar Smoking Ape to heart, and it's to you to whom I address myself, you cold and miserly souls in your fancy mansions with your cognac and mints, sitting in your huge leather "You're fired!" chairs and manufacturing misery at every turn.

Because from around the globe to Every Friday at the Mecca Auditorium! Always Free! The Cigar Smoking Ape Will Take You All the Way!

He's a 400 meter runner competing against impossible odds.

He's a kicking rock & roller who puts Senor "Pelvis" Wences to cry all the way home shame.

He's The Cigar Smoking Ape. He is coming--Live! At the Mecca Auditorium! And He will Ape us. As circles increase ever tighter this new century, this new millennium, this newborn beginning, The Cigar Smoking Ape will lead us unto where Apes will Ape the Aping of Apes, an Ape conundrum, a spirited debate where Apes evolved from men.

The risks are enormous. Men can develop breasts, and women can produce body hair. This explains athletes and urine samples. More positive results are offered when we take The Cigar Smoking Ape to heart.

A special panel has been established to overview those who lay claim to Ape, who take Ape's name as their own, but who may merely attend pretense to Ape as Ape is. It is these latter who have the most to fear.

Give Ape a chance--Every Friday at the Mecca Auditorium! Always Free! The Cigar Smoking Ape will Take You All the Way! He will delight young and old alike, He will make you question the very shoes you're standing in--this month also featuring Carson and Barnes on their fabulous sway poles and Rusty the Talking Dog.

Three cheers for The Cigar Smoking Ape!

All of us, we would all do well to live our lives as a giant thanks for what He has done, for He, and He only, is the one and true Cigar Smoking Ape!

Hooray! Hooray for The Cigar Smoking Ape!

Thanks for all the entertainment! Thanks for all the enlightenment!

The Cigar Smoking Ape--Live! At the Mecca Auditorium! Always Free! The Cigar Smoking Ape Will Take You All the Way!

( . . . )

And that was just the beginning of the rally. I mean, wow. How could I not get on the bus and join everybody at Ape Camp after that?

Sunday, September 17, 2006

Buttplow

Lord. Last night I met a guy named--really, seriously, I'm not kidding--named Buttplow. He was dressed all wild west show of yesteryear, with these fringed gauntlets on his wrists with great big letter B's, with a belt buckle with a great big letter B, with these cowboy boots that had great big letter B's.

Buttplow.

And do you know what he tried to do to me? I'll give you three guesses. And he told me, "I'll bet you get whiter and pinker every day."

What the hell is that supposed to mean?

Well, I've got a rally to go to, so off I go!

Saturday, September 16, 2006

A Pretty Good Example

Saw this listing on the television guide channel: "The New Adventures of Pinocchio: Gepetto screws a puppet after drinking an elixir." It's another sign of it all going down the drain. This is why the deal with the Ape makes so much sense right now.

Friday, September 15, 2006

It's True That a Chimp Shall Lead us

I've recently discovered the truth of this, that a chimp shall lead us. It's so simple.