-as of [21 JULY 2024]-
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#1
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#2
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#3
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#4
*ME WANT!*
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#5
*SATISFACTION*
*cue “satisfaction”*
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#6
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all creatures in dopeland are relegated to “fulfiller” and “object”
(in terms of fantasy)
(cue “back on orbit” intro riff)
(as objects, the hauer twins are chased by a throng of middle-aged salarymen through the streets of japan)
(as fulfiller, a young musician is chased by a throng of busty brainwashed jap teenyboppers)
(their collision sets off digital fireworks on the site of hiroshima)
“me want!”
(as infinitely stocked buffets are provided to all participants)
in this virtual realm of interactive fantasies, one begins a process of self-actualization and works towards a personal “heat death”…
(each with delineated sections depending on personality type)
*PARADISE*
joga traverses the “windy city” with a dumb angel serving as guide
(cue *windy city*)
she reveals her complicity in his suffering and its alleged “purpose”. enraged, he slaughters the angel and determines to seize control of his fate
(cue *be my superwoman*)
with the death of the “angel”, he notes the transformation of his surroundings into beautiful landscapes
(cue *smell the roses*)
yearning for female companionship, he performs a plaintive ode to womanhood
(cue *fabric softeners*)
approaching a final obstacle to paradise, he summons all that remains of his will in order and enters a realm devoid of humanity
(cue *who knew?*)
(repeat mantra: “keep dreaming”)
(as the tone of voice changes from dismissive to encouraging)
(cue “keep dreaming”)
so he assumes the role of creator
(cue “playing god”)
he begins by indulging his shallow sexual fantasies
(cue “redhead”)
enter miss markham and a host of angels:
(*cue “merry markham and the jumbojugs”*)
after achieving complete sexual satisfaction, he finds himself walking down the aisle…
(*cue “magic marker”*)
miss markham and joga and married in an elaborate wedding ceremony
(with sara padua as maid of honor)
(and a host of crimson chicks as bridesmaids)
amanda + ashley alegria serving as dual flowergirls
AI serving as “best man”
(the crowley clan + michael anthony)
dyke van larnald documenting the ceremony…
(roll credits)
(*cue “WOR”*)
as the old man weeps from his lonely bedroom…
(*cue “village green” reprise*)
“ME WANT!”
“king of the cats”
(alpha male adventures)
an idealized version of self (highlighting fantastical struggle for success)
“machine’s best friend…”
(virtual reality)
jogabot experiments with “davinci sleep”
(he flawlessly fires off golf balls with a driver @ a driving range as he nonchalantly unleashes one-liners to his chubby gaybird caddy “josh robinson”…the caddy cracks up in laughter with each drive…)
(he travels to his local gym…)
(the front desk greeters (mattioli + mitchell) are dressed as mickey + minnie mouse)
(fitness bimbobot:) (in hushed voice)
“i process things weird too…”
(jogabot:)
“you do? see, i was too busy processing my own “weird things” to even notice you doing the same…”
(by night, jogabot performs at the local nightclub…)
(he subsequently begins playing guitar lines at lightning-fast speeds)
(record executives rush backstage to offer him lucrative contracts…)
(he simply smiles:)
“no no no, i have many too many mental health issues (makes a “loco” gesture)…you wouldn’t want ME as an employee…”
(he stares into his rainbow guitar and enters an alternate rainbow universe full of bigtittied women…)
(he goes back to his place and lights up a joint…)
(he turns to jogadog:)
“don’t you envy my life? getting to smoke up on a daily basis with such fine characters as these? as you sit at home and lick your privates…”
jogadog lays down his head and groans as the picture fades into a cloud of dope smoke…
(“insult buffers”)
“the bergblum syndrome”
joga’s doorbell rings…it’s bergblum the next door neighbor…he wants to be his friend…
joga: “hmm…well…”
bergblum: “well?”
‘don’t take this the wrong way, but…’
“but?”
‘don’t take this personally, but…’
“but?”
“well, you’re not quite “talented”…in the conventional sense that is…”
“in the conventional sense?”
“well for example, you can’t even play the guitar!”
“so?”
“and you sure as hell can’t dance!”
“i can so!”
(launches into a bizarre choreographed rendition of “i’ve got the powah!”)
jogadog barks his approval…joga ponders for a few seconds…
“ok then, i guess we can use you…”
(“the anti-jogabot”)
a group of neighbors approach jogabot’s door…
“we’ve signed a local petition…”
“you must cease making music at this very moment!”
they are accompanied by a group of police officers who warn jogabot that if he doesn’t comply with the ordinance, he will be immediately arrested…
joga: (*sigh*)
he despondently packs his music equipment and prepares to sell it off at a pawn shop…
the owner of the pawnshop (“mister merry mac”) is a hip “magic negro”…he encourages joga to defy the ordinance and continue to play music…
he gives young joga a magic guitar and he subsequently becomes a street musician on the streets of new york city…
(joga promoting his music on the streets of NYC)
the farting acoustic guitarist… (who simultaneously repels and attracts…)
“wanna thee-D?”
(no response)
“wannan ess-thee-D?”
(as he desperately attempts to get stoned by slaughtering a skunk and rolling the innards of its tail into a joint…)
a man approaches a woman….at first she is charmed by his guitar skills…then she realizes that this guy’s got no dough and gradually starts backing away…
and so eventually he begins to gain a following…the crowds begin to gather (despite themselves)…one busty young redhead pushes her way through the crowd…
“i know what he needs…”
she takes him back to her apartment…she and her equally busty blonde roommate join him in the shower…
a joyous joga:
“o wat significant steps i am taking!”
mister merry mac is walking down the sidewalk and hears the action…he lights a cigarette and smiles to himself…the guitar glistens…
meanwhile bergblum peers over the edge of the apartment window by night to come face-to-face with a smiling everest goldstein…
(*cue “all aboard”*)
joga is led down a white hallway by an ever-growing array of young woman…
at first they seem sympathetic…
at first their voices are young and cooing…
they gradually metamorphosize…
in a disgusting boston accent:
“they play thay paht…”
“they’ll break ya hat…”
their faces grow gradually demonic as joga notices pictures of his former nemesi on the wall…
he attempts to fight his way through the crowd once he notices that there’s a casket prepared for him at the end of the hallway…
bergblum breaks the window…
all hell breaks loose…the girls turn into bats and the two fight their way through them before making their way back to the street by jumping out the second-story window…
blumberg froghops landing atop everest goldstein: “your pancake, sir…”
harvard graduate school…blumberg and i reunited…i was back in an unfamiliar room in pfoho…forgot how great i had it in college…i was rooming with a cute brunette…i couldn’t tell whether she was 13 or 18…she seemed to be some sort of prodigy because we were roommates…3 floors down was the cafeteria…
i had some funny conversations with the professor and the new roommates (in the common room)…about 6…both male and female…the brunette and i ended up sitting in an airport…we saw tom cruise with nicole kidman and he awkwardly kissed the wife of another man on the lips before they went on a double date (to the bridgewater movie theater?)…
a young hispanic security guard approached us when we started holding hands…i got nervous thinking that he’d question me for being with an underage girl (she assumed i was 18 and i lied and told her i was a 21 year old senior)…
i realized i was dreaming while in the cafeteria…so i approached ann brown sitting with some blacks and goofily picked her up and kissed her (she had already turned to stone by this point)…then i tried to figure out if my surroundings were real and found i could not even “force” myself back to reality…when i finally did it was depressing to wake up in the motel room…
joga is standing in a welfare line…he is accompanied by bergblum…he has just had a lightbulb implant in lieu of a knee…william warren points out that joga’s right eye is still swollen as he steps into line…
redhead robyn hilton is in front of him…she’s letting count smokula shamelessly feel up her ample bosom from behind…i approach her and attempt a kiss on the lips…she reluctantly offers a peck…
playing beer pong…partnered with piatowski…
everest goldstein gestures to me in a watchung hills hallway…
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(‘la jolla’ appears as the busty bright light at the end of the tunnel)
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💕💝💖💓🖤💙🖤💙🖤💙🖤❤️💚💛🧡❣️💞💔💘❣️🧡💛💚❤️🖤💜🖤💙🖤💙🖤💗💖💝💘
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*🌈✨ *TABLE OF CONTENTS* ✨🌷*
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🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥*we won the war* 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥