for 11 December 1996. Updated every WEDNESDAY.



Our latest draft of a Hollywood script that's sure to be hard to forget...



INT. - DAY. JOE CAMEL, MR. BLOBBY, and HotWired's TALKY in a convalescent home for Phallic Mascots.

JOE: You know, I'd be happy not to have a face that looks like a big penis, but jeez, at least it got me a job.

BLOBBY: No kidding. I mean, what else was I gonna do with myself after that Barney project fell through? Nobody wants a big dick in their flick...

JOE: No, but in their ad, now, that's a whole 'nother ball game.

TALKY: Yeah, I couldn't believe the demand after I sent out my first headshots. Before I knew it, I was a real up-and-comer.



BLOBBY: You know what I used to love?

TALKY: What?

BLOBBY: The thrill of running around hugging nobodies and celebrities alike. All those women on the streets couldn't keep their eyes off me, and they didn't even know why! I'll never forget the look on Hugh Grant's face when he saw this huge penis coming after him. Did he suspect it was a surreal nightmare of karmic retribution? And it really warmed my heart to see how well I could penetrate Prince Charles' cold exterior.



TALKY: Wow. That must've felt great.

JOE: No kidding. You know what my favorite part was?


JOE: That look on people's faces. That look of subtle longing. At first I thought it was the cigarette I was holding out to them... but no. That little twitch at the side of the mouth? The unmistakable look of unconscious recognition, quickly transforming into unfulfilled lust, then finishing off with a trace of regret, then fading into an overly blank look... comically blank. Denial.



TALKY: Wow. You're so sensitive, Joe. That was really beautiful.

BLOBBY: Yeah. You know, I bet the world would be pretty surprised to find out that we giant phalli have our gentle moments.

JOE: Everyone thinks we're just insensitive dicks...

TALKY: But we're just as soft as the next guy when we wanna be.



Martin Grassl, maker of Porfidio Tequila, which costs about $100 a bottle: "Those people who used to drink margaritas with cheap tequila in their college days are now grown-up yuppies in New York." [Reuters, 12/4/96]


Jerry Hall on Mick Jagger: "I always hoped that one day he would outgrow these things. You know, we always live in hope. There is nothing more humiliating than loving someone so much that you forgive the infidelities." [Reuters, 12/3/96]


"Among the lucky consumers who 'got' Nintendo was Bonnie Nadeau, a grandmother of six who was able to pick up one of the last Nintendo 64 units at a Toys 'R' Us store in Milwaukee. 'I was just at the right place at the right time,' she said." [Reuters, 12/4/96]



"Jubal Brown of Ontario College of Art and Design fortified himself with blue gelatin and cake icing on November 2 before vomiting on 'Composition in Red, White and Blue' by Piet Mondrian at New York's Museum of Modern Art.... The 22-year-old student, who shaves his eyebrows and has a pierced lower lip, said in an interview that the paintings are 'stale, obedient, lifeless crusts.' His intention: 'To destroy art, to liberate individuals and living creatures from its banal, oppressive representation.'" [AP, 12/1/96]









Listless workers dying to relive their college years love this one, in which white boys in tapestry-laden apartments beat each other over the head with beer bottles in pursuit of the Golden Six-Foot Bong (and a hot chick with dangly earrings).




Squeamish, jumpy individuals navigate through offices, subways, cafes, and deli lines, throwing punches at offenders who come within a one-foot radius. Extra points are gained by knocking out lecherous middle-aged divorcées, Doritos-eaters, and Europeans.




Little yellow Katz-look-alike rolls along munching down various barbituates, opiates, and hallucinogens, all the while being chased by Old Media Goblins. When our man in yellow snarfs down the rare and oh-so-special crack vials, Old Media Goblins turn into New Media Hacks ready with way new employment opportunities - only to switch back to Goblins once the deal is inked.




Overzealous, mentally unstable "players" dodge reprimands, missed deadlines, and sexual harassment suits in a race to see who can seem the most visionary and proactive to the higher-ups, while remaining the slackest asshole possible behind the scenes. Bonus round features cocktail party setting, wherein "players" duck between Nobodies to seek out Mr. Important, to bestow as much cooing and fondling as possible within the one-minute "Hihowareya" period.




Hard-working plebes and malcontents shoot down high-powered white-man blobs hurling through the office, crushing frantic workers in their paths. The ultimate stress-relief game for the low man on the totem pole. Warning: This game has no basis in reality whatsoever.







[Filler Archive]

Polly Esther

Terry Colon