The Cello Has Its Say

Read my new novella anthology:

A space alien on a mission learns about human existence with the assistance of a bitter, yet knowledgeable rat. – A psychiatrist invents a device to extract a patient’s repressed memories which come out of the patient’s head in the form of tiny people. He runs into trouble when the memories want lives of their own.- A young woman plans to launch her career by appearing on a reality dating show and finds out the show may not be what it seems.- A Hollywood publicist must travel back in time to prevent the Manson Family murders by making Charles Manson a rock star.


The Superhero App


Betty Blueblood was just leaving Shuffle, a hot new nightclub on the East side of San Antonio, when two men jumped out of the bushes and forced her to the ground. She grabbed for her phone and pressed the “Swoop” app.

Oswald Pumpernickel a meek, unassuming bag boy at a local health food store had just returned home to his crummy studio apartment, when his phone played the “Star Wars” ring tone. He took a deep breath and hit the button that said accept. He donned his leotard and cape and drank one of the small bottles of liquid that the Swoop service had issued him. He crouched down his windowsill and jumped out.
Just outside of San Antonio, two serial rapists were driving down the street with their latest victim in the trunk of a Toyota Camry. They looked up at the sky to see a skinny young man flying towards them. He landed on the hood of their car and they both got out and began to run away in different directions. Oswald held his breath and extend his arms until they were long enough to catch the two men. he banged their heads against the pavement and place them in the backseat of the car.
Oswald took the key out of the ignition and opened the trunk. He saw a plain looking blonde woman, who appeared to be in her 40’s who had been tied up and gagged. He took the gag out of her mouth.
“No, it’s Claudia.”
“What? Oh shit,” Oswald exclaimed. “This stupid GPS! Just one second,” he said to the woman.
Oswald called into his supervisor who was known to him only as,” The Web.”
“Yeah, this is The Web, what can I do ya for?”
“Um, yeah, this is Os….The Slender Avenger and um, I accidently went to the wrong rescue. I was just wondering what to do.”
“Oh no. How did that happen?”
“I was just doing what the GPS told me to do.” He went on to explain how he had caught the men and found the woman in the trunk.
“Okay, okay. Ask Claudia the name of the hero she was expecting.”
Oswald looked in the trunk. “Um, ma’am what was the name of the hero you were expecting?”
“What, what do you mean?”
“On your app… The Swoop app. Do you have your cell? If I could just look at your phone?”
“What are you talking about? What app? My phone is off today, because I didn’t get a chance to pay the bill.”
“One Sec,” Oswald said. “She doesn’t even have the app,” he said into the phone.”
“Great,” The Web said.
“Why don’t I just untie her, call the police and go to the next job. The two guys who had her in the trunk are in the front seat and they are out cold. They should be knocked out till the police get here.”
“No, don’t do that. If she’s not signed up with the service, we can’t be liable for her in any way.”
“Then what should I do?”
“Um, you didn’t call the police yet?”
“Not yet.”
“Leave her.” The Web said.
“Just leave her.”
“The cars in the middle of the street. “
“Stick the gag back in her mouth, close the trunk. Drive the car to the side of the road and if the guys come to, I guarantee you they won’t tell anyone about this.”
“But, what about the woman, I mean she could die.”
“That’s not our problem; she’s not on the app. Our customer is on the app and is paying $3000 per rescue, so hurry.”
Oswald went over to the car and stuffed the gag back int the woman’s mouth.
“Sorry,” he said with a shrug.
“Mmmm, Mmmm.” The woman exclaimed.
He shrugged his shoulders and closed the trunk. He got into the driver’s seat and pulled off to a side street. He swallowed another vile of liquid and flew off to a dark side street where he saw two men dragging a woman towards a van.
He landed in front of them punching them both in the face and pounded them in the head until they fell to the ground.
“Are you Betty,” he asked the girl.
“Yes, are you The Slender Avenger?
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah, but it said two minutes it’s been seven. I was kicking and biting and rolling around forever.”
“I’m sorry, my GPS was messing up. Let me just call the police.”
She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. Oswald called 911 and told them that there were two men, knocked unconscious on the street.
“That’s it,” she asked. “We’re not going to file a report?”
“It’s a security thing, “he said, noticing that Betty was not so unattractive. “It’s a secret app. We can’t get involved with the police. Look, I feel bad. Would you like me to fly you somewhere?”
“No thanks,” My cars right over there. Goodnight.”
She got in her car and drove away. Oswald rated her a five, hoping that she would give him at least a four.
The phone played the Star Wars ringtone. He looked down to see there was a damsel in distress on Rivas Street. He hit ignore and caught the bus home.





Walter saw a short, plump blonde woman who was dressed in jeans and a  Jimmy Hendrix tee shirt, sitting at the bar. She looked just enough like her profile picture, for him to know what it was his date, Adelaide. He smiled and approached her, wondering why chicks put unrealistic pictures of themselves online; what could it lead to but disappointment?

The two greeted one another and ordered drinks. They made a bit of small talk and Walter noticed that she had crooked teeth. He wondered what they felt like. He wondered if he would be able to get a blow job. She wasn’t very interesting, prattling on the way she did about her job. She was a six at most, so he thought his blow job chances were excellent.

It was open mic night and a sultry singer was growling a love song into the microphone. Harold was about to ask Adelaide to dance. It had long been his strategy to take his dates out dancing. It gave him a chance to put his arm around a girls waist, there by getting an idea of their fat to muscle ratio. If she was acceptable, he would simply keep his arm around her for the rest of the night.

Just as he was about to ask for a dance, a stand-up comedian took to the stage. Harold rolled his eyes and smiled at Adelaide. He hoped there would be music again soon. At least this would give her a reason to shut up.

“So, I’m glad to be here because you get a free sandwich when you perform. It’s better then what I ate for lunch, which was nothing. I ate nothing for lunch. I’m just super broke right now and I’ve been eating little things around the house that aren’t even food. I had a cheese and birthday candle sandwich this afternoon.”

“Hey, get off stage,” a man in back yelled.

“Hey thanks, that helps. Ohh well, I’ll tell my girlfriend about that. I’m dating a therapist. I think I may be just a specimen to her…”

Suddenly, the comedian chocked and fell on the floor clutching his throat. Adelaide, rushed to the stage along with several other people. A heckler had thrown his shot glass at the comic and the shot glass had gone right into the comic’s mouth. The object was blocking his air passages and he needed to be rushed to the hospital. He only had a driver’s license on him and, no one knew how to contact his family. Adelaide agreed to ride with him. She left a confused looking Harold back at the bar. He thumbed through Tinder as the ambulance drove away.

Adelaide rode with the comedian in the back of the ambulance. Tears rolled down the man’s face as they flew down the street. The paramedics had inserted a tube in the man’s mouth and they were helping him to breath.

The comedian wondered at the identity of the plump blonde stranger. Did she work at that place, or was she just a patron? What had she been doing there alone? His mind raced as they reached the emergency room doors. He was rushed down the hall and into an operating room. Adelaide reluctantly signed for him. The doctors thanked her as the disappeared though the OR doors.

Adelaide headed down to the cafeteria where she ordered coffee and a sandwich. She stared out the window looking at the traffic on the highway. After a moment a young man took a seat at the table right next to her. He glanced around nervously.

“Hi there,” he said.


“How’s your day going?”

“Well, it’s a little weird, I….”

“Yeah, I know how you feel. Today is the first day of my internship. I’m a doctor.”

“Oh, wow congratulations.”

“Thanks, yeah. I’m just in the ER for now, but I eventually want to be a gynecologist.”

“Oh, that’s nice. I guess it’s a very stable specialty; people keep having babies.”

“Well, yeah that’s true. But I’m mostly interested because I like vaginas.”

“Oh, uh..”

“I’m not sure what it is about them, but I like looking at them and sticking my hand in them. I like looking inside of them.”

“What do you think it is that caused that?”

“I’m not sure, maybe my mother had an especially easy birth or something.”

“What is it you like about them?”

“I like everything about them; the way they look taste and smell. Mostly though it is the way they look. They look like so many wonderful things; the inside of a strawberry, a pitted peach. The first imprint a knife makes in a jar of peanut butter, a walnut!

Adelaide jumped across the table and kissed the young doctor.

“What are you doing,” he screamed, leaping to his feet.


“You think just because I tell you I like vaginas it’s okay to kiss me?”

“Well I mean you…”

“Never talk to me again.”

The doctor got up and left. Amanda quietly ate her sandwich. When she was done she caught a cab back to the bar where she found a very drunk Walter looking at his phone.

“Chunkarella! How’s it going? As you can see, I had no trouble finding a replacement for you.” He gestured to the empty barstool next to him. “Clair, meet Adelaide.”

Adelaide looked at the empty stool and smiled.

“Yeah, I got a date with her like five minutes after you left. We had a few and then we hooked up in the bathroom. I couldn’t resist her, because she actually looked like her profile picture.”

Adelaide ordered a drink and sat down on the other side of Harold. She asked Clair, where she was from, only to get no response.

“Doesn’t she talk?”

“Not to you.”

“H’mm, okay.”

“Did that guy…was he okay?”

“I have no idea.”

“Hey, Clair, tell me something. How do you stay so thin?”

“Look, she doesn’t want to talk to you,” he screamed. “We’re going home now.”

“Fine, it was nice to meet you.”

Harold watched Adelaide leave again. He turned to Clair and kissed her long and hard, to the sounds of horrible laughter.

The Nirvana Loophole



When I was a kid, my parents sent me to Saturday school at a very reformed temple. It was so reformed that Saturday school was actually held on Sunday, because it was more convenient for everyone. Although my parents were basically agnostic, they felt that it was important that I learn about Jewish culture. It also got me out of the house for a few hours.

As I assumed my parents were wrong about everything, I decided that there most decidedly was a God and for a time, I took Sunday school seriously. Every Sunday, the Rabbi would come into the classroom and answer questions from the kids. One, Sunday, Zack Epstein asked the Rabbi if pets went to Heaven. I perked up when the questions was asked as my Guinea pig, Melvin was my best friend and this was very important information.

“Yes, pets go to Heaven,” the Rabbi assured as I breathed a sigh of relief.

“They go to their own separate heaven that is different than the human heaven.”

My heart hit my stomach. What? My best friend would die and I would never see him again, ever?  What the fuck was he talking about? I began to panic. If I didn’t get to spend eternity with my baby who was I going to spend eternity with? My hand shot up in the air.

“Yes, Eliza, “said the teacher.

“Rabbi, who do we go to heaven with?”

“Well, those nearest to you. Your parents, your family …..your loved ones.”

There were a few more questions and class was dismissed.

I stood outside in the cold Chicago air waiting for my father’s Subaru to pull up. It was hard to feign a smile when he asked what I learned in class.

I ran into my room as soon as I got home, taking Melvin with me. The warm, plump creature curled next to me on the bed. He purred as I ran my finger over his soft fur. I attempted to contemplate an afterworld that contained Dan and Helene Gale and all my other relatives and no Melvin, or any other animals for that matter. There had to be a way out of this, I just needed to figure out what it was.  I called my friend Jill. She was smart she would know what to do.

“Jill, I just found out there are no animals allowed in human heaven.”

“Hum, okay ,” she said.”

“That means after Melvin dies I’ll never see him again.”

“Who said that?”

“Rabbi Mitchner.”

“Did he say if this was just for Jew heaven or all heavens?”

“There is more than one heaven,” I asked.

“Well, my grandma says each religion has an Idea of what heaven is. There are some heavens that may allow pets.”

“Which ones?”

“I don’t know, look in the encyclopedia.”

I went into the living room, which contained my robe clad mother. She was watching the news and screaming insults at the Republicans. I walked over to the World Books and looked at them. My father came into the room looking pissed as usual. He sat down without saying a word to either one of us.

“Mom, what are some other religions besides Jews and Christians?”

“What,” she said lowering the volume.

“What other religions are there besides Jews and Christians?”

“There are Muslins.”

“What are Muslims?”

“Those nuts that are always blowing stuff up.”

“there are Indians,” my dad said.”

“Like cowboys and Indians?”

“No like people from the country of India. You’d like them, Eliza. They are vegetarian too. They think cows are people.”

“It’s those people with the dots on their head,” my mom said.

“Not all of em,” my dad said.

“Yeah, all of em have dots on their head,” my mom said.

“No, Helene, I mean not all people with dots on their heads are Indian, some are those Hari Krishnas.”

“What are Hare Krishnas,” I asked.

“The Hare Krishnas are a cult, not a religion. They’re just imitating the Indians,” my mother exclaimed.

“I know Hare Krishnas and they are so a real religion,” my father countered.

“Where do you know Hare Krishinas?”

“From work.”

“You work at the B’nai B’rith..”

I grabbed the H volume of World Book and headed back to my room as the fight escalated. I looked up heaven and could find nothing about which religion would allow Melvin entrance. That Wednesday I invited myself to church with a friend so that I could grill the priest after the service. She was a Catholic and her church was right across the street from my house.  After a series of prays, bible readings and a sermon about honesty, I approached the Priest and asked him about animals getting into heaven.

“Well, animals go to a separate heaven,” He said. The weather is always nice the grass is always green and there are always plenty of trees for dogs to pee on.”

“I have a Guinea pig,” I said fighting back tears.

“Well there are also lots of dandelions to eat, “ he said.

I ran home and cried. I really was going to have to spend the rest of eternity with my human relatives. Who would ever want to go to such a heaven? I wondered if we could go to purgatory, purgatory was beginning to sound not so bad.

I got the I volume of the World Book and read about India. It turned out their religion was called Hindu and they believed that one’s soul kept getting reincarnated until it achieved Nirvana; a state of full consciousness. Better yet, they believed that a human may well be reincarnated as an animal. If you came back as a cow, you had actually moved up.


I was filled with a renewed sense of hope. I would simply join the Hindus and keep getting reincarnated, so would Melvin. We could live together in many forms until we achieved Nirvana. More importantly, I would not have to spend eternity with my parents. I made a mental note to get a book about Hinduism and to begin memorizing gods.

A week later, I woke up to discover two smaller Guinea pigs in Melvin’s cage. Melvin was actually a girl who had given birth to two babies.  We named them Salt and Pepper.

I ended up dropping Hinduism for agnosticism by the time I was twelve. The truth was, I had no idea if there was a God. I was later to find out that Jews actually believe that heaven entails archiving oneness with God and made no mention of spending eternity with anyone. Rabbi Mitchner had just wanted to make it more palatable for his reformed clientele.

Some part of me still fears an afterlife that contains Dan and Helene and no pets, television or distractions. Unfortunately, there is only one way to find out.




Claudia parked in the lot of the sad looking stucco office building that sat amongst the abandon buildings of NE Glisan. She climbed the stairs to the third floor and looked for number 308. She knocked and opened the door to find a short, unimpressive looking brunette seated behind a pine wood desk. The woman stood up slightly.

“Emily,” Claudia asked.

“Yes, are you Claudia?”

“I am.”

“Have a seat.”

Claudia took a seat across from the woman, studying her carefully as she went. She was short and plump. She had dark circles underneath her dull brown eyes and her fingernails had been bitten down to the quick. She wore a grey sweatshirt over black leggings and a worn pair of black Keds.

“Would, you like a glass of water or a cup of coffee?”

“No, I’m okay.  What is it they have you doing here, “Claudia asked looking around the small, dank office.

“I set sales appointments for janitorial service salesmen with office building managers around the country.”


“So, how does this all work?”

“Well, you just tell me what our relationship is supposed to be, then you email me whatever backgroundinformation you have told them about yourself. I study it and we go to whatever event it is you need to go to.”

“The event is in two days, you’re supposed to be my aunt Becki. Will two days be enough time?”

“Plenty, I’ve been doing this for a lot of years, ya know. “

“How did you get into it?”

“I answered an ad on Craigslist.”

“You’re kidding.”

“No, I’m not I was an out of work actress. I was looking in the talent section when I came across an ad that said, “actors wanted for a unique opportunity.” I met a guy in a parking lot who told me that the job was for the United States government and before he could tell me anymore, I would have to take some tests and a background check. I was skeptical, but intrigued. I went to the federal building the next day and went through a background check for a secret clearance, six weeks later I was a leading lady in the Witness Protection Program’s core of actors.”

“Doesn’t it make your personal life hard; I mean not being able to tell anyone what you do?”

“I tell them I’m in the mortuary business. They never ask any questions after that.”

Emily smiled and walked over to the coffee machine where she poured herself a cup.

“How did a nice girl like you end up in Witness Protection?”

“Dated the wrong guy.”

Claudia suppressed a giggle.

“What happened?”

“I dated him for about a year and one day he invited me to go away with him and visit his friend in Seattle.

He asked me to deliver a gift for him. I was supposed to go to his sister’s house get the gift and take it on The bus with me to Seattle.”

“You were traveling on the bus and you were going to meet him there?”

“Yeah, he was flying in from New York. But, when I got off the bus I was immediately arrested. The present Was actually three pounds of top quality heroin and about $12, 000 of stolen money.”

“Holy shit. You had to testify against your boyfriend?”

“No, it was his brother that they wanted. The only way I could avoid jail was to squawk. They offered me the program.”

“That’s rough. What was your boyfriend doing in New York?”

“He lived there. It was a long-distance relationship.”

“Oh, where did you meet him?”

“On Bumble.”

“The App?”

“Yes, so had you two ever actually …. I mean. Did you ever meet him, like in person?”

“This was going to be the first time.”

Claudia suppressed another giggle.

“So, tell me all about your Aunt Becki, “Claudia said taking out a notebook.

“Well, you raised me when my mother died on a mission to India. You love musical comedies and you work as a civil rights attorney.”


“You are 58 years old. Even though you couldn’t afford to send me to college, you always made sure that I was very well read. You are very liberal and love to talk about politics.”

Claudia was secretly impressed she figured Emily for some conservative, hillbilly moron like all the rest of them.

“So, do we fight for women’s rights together or something?”

“Oh no, I hate you. I ‘m really conservative. Ya, see the way I figure it is, if I hate you, I don’t have to see you very often. The guy at the agency told me I only got seven visits and after that I was on my own. He told me it was like $200 a day. Is that true?”

“Well, yes if you want the whole day..”

“I can’t afford that shit. What I figure we do is fight in public and that way my friends will be real uncomfortable and they won’t be on me to get you to visit again.

Claudia hated to admit it, but the plan was pretty clever.

“Now, let me tell you a little about my friends. Julie is a hair dresser. She is really into astrology, so you may want to say something about what BS it is.  Karen is my neighbor, she has cats, so maybe just say you’re a dog person, or something like that. Steve is Karen’s boyfriend. I met him at a Trump rally, he’s a white nationalist. “

“Okay,” Claudia said not looking up from the pad on which she was taking notes.

“Now just for back up I was wondering if you could not bath on the day you come and If you could chew with your mouth open, that would be greatly appreciated.”

“Look, Emily, I think that may be going a bit over the top.”

“Yeah, maybe. It’s just …You don’t know what it’s like being in this program.  It’s not like in the movies. They dropped me off at a pay by the week hotel and told me I was all paid up for two months. They gave me $5000 and a list of people who would give me a job reference. They told me they could occasionally provide an actor to play a relative or friend and that was it.”

“That’s rough,” Claudia said. ‘But, you’re an idiot,’ she thought to herself.

“How about I just chew with my mouth open?

“Cool, “ Emily exclaimed.

“Let’s think of a few neutral memories, just for plausibility. Did you ever take a trip when you were a child?”

“I went to the Wisconsin Dells when I was eight.” I’ve been to Seattle a bunch of times.”

“How about we went to Seattle five years ago and went to the art museum.

“I’ve never been to a museum except on school field trips.”

“We took a boat ride.”

“I’ve never really been on a boat.”

“The Ferris wheel?

“I’ve been on that.”

The two discussed a few more details and Emily described the bungalow in which she had told everyone she grew up. Claudia tried not to laugh when Emily said she had been on the track team and secretary of the student council.

They discussed favorite foods and movies for a bit and Claudia was not at all surprised that Emily loved Taylor Swift and Applebee’s.

They parted and arranged to meet early on the morning of Thanksgiving.

Claudia got in her car and began to drive back to the Motel 6. She wondered if it was too late to look on Craigslist for a real job.

English to Customer Service Representative Dictionary.




So your, phone or your fridge isn’t working and you just don’t know what to do. you’ve called customer service a hundred times and you still don’t have an answer to your questions. Technology is so hard to understand these days and so are some of the customer service representatives who are supposed to help customers with their problems.

Here is  simple dictionary to help you understand what a CSR is really trying to say.

CSR: Thank You for calling The Acme Corporation, My name is Eliza, How can I help you?

English: I am contemplating suicide; what do you want?

CSR: I’d be delighted to help you with that!

English: My will to survive and my want for creature comforts surpasses my dignity and my sense of hope just enough that I will prostitute myself to your likes.

CSR: I wish so much that I could help you, but I’m afraid I’m going to have to transfer you to a specialist in a different department.

English: You’re someone else’s problem now, you malodourous vagina.

CSR: May I place you on a brief hold while I access my resources?

English: I have to take a big dump.

CSR: I understand your frustration.

English: I’m just as exasperated by your stupidity as you are.

CSR: I’m so sorry for your loss, please accept my condolences.

English: Lucky them

CSR: I’m so sorry to interrupt you!

English: I’d like to tie your tongue to the back of a rocket ship and launch it to Mars you nonsensical blabbermouth.

CSR: I’m sorry ma’am, I understand how confusing the computer system can be. Let me see what I can do to help you.

English: A slow witted five year old could navigate our website you insignificant half-wit.

CSR: I want to do everything I can to make sure your customer experience is a good one.

English:  I’d like to tear your head off and pour poison down your neck.

CSR: Thank you for calling and have a nice day.

English: Get your tubes tied.

In Defense of Kathy Griffin and Tyler Shields




Today Kathy Griffin made a video apologizing for a photograph of herself holding a bloody bust of America’s aspiring dictator, Donald Trump. The picture was the work of photographer Tyler Shields. The video consists of Ms. Griffin begging for our forgiveness and stating “I crossed the line. I move the line, then I crossed it. I went way too far and I was wrong. “

When I searched Google, I noticed that there were many articles condemning Ms. Griffin and the photo. Some articles criticized Ms. Griffin’s poor taste and others called for a criminal investigation of the comic, as they perceived the photo  as a death threat. The Secret Service implied they were conducting an investigation over the snapshot.

I was shocked to see that there was little discussion of Mr. Shields and his work and not a single word about his artistic intention in creating the portrait. In the first place, blaming Ms. Griffin for Mr. Shields photograph is like blaming the melting watch if you don’t like a Dali painting. In the second place, condemning the photograph rather than discussing its meaning is the ultimate example of American anti-intellectualism and sloth.

Tyler Shields has always been a controversial photographer. Much of his work criticizes the beauty industry and features woman with knives to their faces or blow dryers pointed at their heads as if they were guns. The photograph of Ms. Griffin shows the comedian holding America’s most famous golfing and borsht enthusiast bloody and decapitated head up by its fluffy orange hair, She is dressed in a conservative blue dress and wears a stoic expression.

I believe Mr. Shields was making a statement about the manner in which comedians have been the most astute observers of Mr. Trump’s shortcomings and the most successful at communicating these shortcomings to the public.

My assessment of the piece maybe incorrect, of course. Anyone who has a different opinion of the piece is certainly welcome to disagree with me. Ya see, art is supposed to prompt discussion and stir up controversy. It is supposed to be interactive and make people think.

Many people have said the photo is crude and only meant to shock people. Take a good look at the photo. The sculpture of Trump is exceptional. I think the composition of bold colors works very well.

Unfortunately, we are living in a world in which thinking has gone out of style. Instead of discussing the photograph as a piece of art, people quickly attacked the subject of the photograph rather than the artist. CNN fired Ms. Griffin from her New Year’s Eve anchoring job and she asked the photographer to take the photo down.

Television talk shows were a buzz with the controversy. The ladies of, The View said the photos were offensive because they, “weren’t funny.” CBS News blurred the photo because they thought it was “disturbing.” NBC called the bust extremely graphic and Chelsea Clinton said it was, “vile and disgusting.”

It is entirely possible that the photo was not intended to by funny, but rather thought provoking. Just because a comedian is the model does not mean it was supposed to be funny (or at least not ha ha funny).

Anyone who thinks this is a death threat is an idiot. Mr. Shields also photographed the comedian taking a scissors to her tongue; I’m surprised no one thought she actually chopped off the appendage.

The famously appearance conscious Ms. Griffin appears in the video wearing no make-up. As she has had a great deal of plastic surgery and admits to covering her entire body in cosmetics when she wears a bathing suit; this could not have been a well-planned decision. She clearly felt a sense of urgency to apologize. If it had just been her conscious bothering her, she would have gotten into makeup, dressed and made the video. I believe she was bullied into apologizing for participating in the piece and this is far more terrifying then the piece itself.

I do not claim to be an art critic, an intellectual or even a collector of photographs. I am a customer service representative who decorates her studio apartment with postcards and movie posters. I am also an American who believes in the First Amendment and in the discussion of art rather than its censure.

Bullying artist and artist models into complacency is one of the characteristics of fascism. If someone doesn’t care for a work of art they are certainly allowed to say so and say why they feel this way, but no one should ever be censored or fired simply for self-expression.

Now, just in case the Secret Service is reading this (and they aren’t), I am not going to behead the president. I wouldn’t touch him with a ten-foot pole or piss on him if he were on fire no matter how much he offered me for the task. There’s nothing in that head that is of any value to me or anyone else in the world. I just thought I would put it bluntly, less I should be misunderstood.

Diary of a Confused Alien



Dear Captain:

I arrived on the destination planet last week, in the middle of their night. I immediately located an establishment that provides sustenance. Although the life forms in the establishment, which was called Denny’s, did not seem to find my façade pleasing to the eye, they did accept that I was one of them, so please tell Zork and Klangbot, “good job.”


I fueled on a substance called a “Grand Slam” which consisted of grease, the fried menses of a female, a flat dehydrated wheat substance with a fruit spread, what appeared to be some sort of grease soaked root vegetable and the flesh of a deceased creature which had been cut into thin strips and fried in its own carcass fat. The meal was accompanied by hot bean juice which I found to be a stimulant.


I am afraid we overestimated the value of the paper slips with which I was provided. I presented several of them to the life form that served me my fuel and discovered that it wanted more. The fuel cost me ten of the paper slips. When I asked a creature sitting next to me where I could obtain more of the paper slips, I was told to “get a job.”


I returned to the craft and disassembled it as per your instructions. I hid the pieces behind some vegetation as per your instruction. I found the weather to be quite cold and located a shelter called Motel 6. The life form behind the desk charged me sixty five paper slips for a pod which it called a room. He it also insisted that I give it 100 additional paper slips for him to “hold” for as long as I inhabited the pod. I am not sure what value there was in holding the paper slips. I can only speculate that there may be some joy found in the fondling of the slips.


I asked the creature where I could find a job and it said something about Craigslist. I asked him where I would find this list and he told me, the internet. I did not wish to appear uninformed and so I decided to go searching for this internet in the morning.


I found my pod to be sufficient. The bed was made out of a primitively constructed foam and there was a small extra room that contained a bin with two knobs that dispensed water. There was also a box with a drainage system and a sprinkler at the top of it. There was a bar of scented fat that came wrapped in the carcass of a tree. I determined that this was for the cleansing of one’s person as the fat lathered when I rubbed it in my hands and appeared to clean them. I washed myself in the contraption and found the smell quite pleasing and relaxing.


I counted my paper slips and found that I had 2000. I had already used 85 and given 100 away that I realized might not be returned. I would need to obtain a job soon. I assumed a job was a device that created paper slips.


There was a box facing the bed that resembled a command post. I attempted to turn it on with my mind but it did not work. Instead, I located a control much like the kind used for locating a space ship. I pressed the on button and a film began to play.

There was one creature standing in front of a group of other creatures. From what I could surmise the creature standing in front of the room was a male and the group of individuals he was about to address were females.  The camera kept panning from the male to the females and then back to the male. Some of the woman appeared to be sweating from their eyes. The male said one of their names and everyone gasped and some sort of audial signal played in the background. The female stepped forward and the male presented her with some vegetation.


The male proceeded to present vegetation to several other females. Some of the females did not receive vegetation and spoke of their bitter disappointment. From what I was able to infer the vegetation contained some sort of protein or nutrient lacking in the planets diet.


I feel asleep to the sound of one of the female earthlings whaling in the back of what appeared to be a crudely designed ship.

The next morning, I put one my spare uniform and headed out of the pod. I walked until arrived at a stand that dispensed bean juice. While I was there I asked the earthling who poured it for me for directions to the internet. It made a strange noise and told me to go across the road to a place called the library, where they would be able to help me.


I arrived at the library where a female creature pointed out a small box in the corner which would take me to the internet. The box appeared to be some sort of partial transporter and I pushed the on button and stood in front of it screaming, “Craigslist,” but nothing happened.


The creature retuned and told me that they did not have Google Voice. She pushed a button and a screen came up that looked exactly like pictures I have seen of the “knowledge Expressway” that existed a hundred years ago. She typed the word Craigslist into the top bar and a list of various subjects appeared. I selected the one that said jobs.

“Wait, those jobs are in San Francisco,” the creature insisted. She clicked on a link that said Los Angeles. Now all you have to do is chose what kind of a job you’re interested in and click on it. If you want to know if a job is near you, you can look on Google Earth.

What is Google Earth, Google is a search engine and Earth is the planet you are on,” a creature standing next to us said. He made a strange noise after he spoke. Going forward I shall refer to the creatures here as earthlings.

I began to search for a job. I was hoping to find an inexpensive one, or maybe just a used one. I began looking under a category called customer service.



Christopher rang Abigail’s doorbell. After a week of giving her the disaffected bad boy routine, he was certain that tonight was the night. She invited him over to dinner and told him to bring the booze. She answered the door wearing a silky green top and linen slacks.

They kissed and he made himself comfortable on her sofa while she finished preparing dinner. He sipped his bloody Mary and thumbed through magazines while he waited. Abigail came out of the kitchen and ran downstairs to the basement.  She ran back upstairs and announced that dinner was served.

“Do you like the dressing,” she asked as they munched their salads.

“It’s very light and creamy,” he said, biting into the lettuce.

“I hope you like your steak rare, “she said.”

“I’m glad you know how to treat red meat.”

Suddenly, she got up and ran down to the basement again.  Christopher continued to work on his salad. After a moment, he heard noises coming from the basement. He got up and walked to the stairs. He stood in silence for a moment and caught bits and pieces of the conversation that was coming from the basement.

“I told you to…” You can eat in ….. Uh huh…uh huh. Well, I have a date.”

Christopher heard the door slam and he rushed back to his seat. Abigail retuned and she served the main course.

“Is everything okay,” he asked as they nibbled at the meal she had prepared.

“Yeah, it’s fine. Do you remember how I was telling you about Rachel…that supervisor at work that I didn’t like?”

“Oh, yeah …I think so.”

“Well, I’ve got her tied up in the basement.”

He laughed covering his mouth with his napkin.

She just looked at him.

“She gave me my quarterly review and told me that I wasn’t getting a raise. She basically told me I suck at my job. So, I waited for her in the parking lot and hit her over the head with a tire iron, put her in my trunk and dragged her down to the basement. I’ve got her tied to the radiator down there. I’m pretty sure that it will hold her. Do you want more water?”

“No, I’m good. So um. What is your goal in all of this? I mean are you looking to get the raise…or just an apology…” he said looking down at his food.

“Well, at this point I figure I’ll just torture her for about a week and then whack her. I mean, I can’t let her go she’ll go to the cops.”

“What about the cops,” Christopher asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I mean, aren’t you afraid of being caught with her tied up in your basement?

“Not really, no one knows she’s here.”

“But mightn’t someone suspect you?

“I don’t think so,” she shrugged. “Do you want some more peas?”

“No thanks,” he said with a sly smile. “Why don’t I make us some more drinks?”


‘She has an interesting strategy,’ he thought as he mixed the drinks. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do here, she was clearly into S and M and this was some sort of seduction strategy. He returned to the dining room with the drinks, but she was gone. He followed the noise of her voice down to the basement.

He stood on the stairs shocked to see Abigail standing over a small blonde woman with a whip.

“What did you mean when you said I didn’t know what the word ‘team’ meant,” Abigail asked.

“I’m sorry,” the woman said.

“I didn’t ask you for an apology, I asked you for an answer, you condescending cunt.”

Abigail smacked the woman several times with the whip.

Christopher backed up the stairs. He sat in the living room wondering what to do. He wanted to sleep with Abigail, but he was afraid she might kill him.

Abigail returned to the dining room, sweating heavily.

She gulped down a glass of water and then the drink that Christopher had made for her.

“So, I just bought, LA LA Land, do you want to watch it?”

They sat together on the sofa and watched as the happy cast members danced their way through traffic.

When Mia and Sebastian kissed, Abigail inched closer to him. Christopher and Abigail followed the films lead and began kissing. She lead him into the bedroom. When they were finished Abigail fell asleep and Christopher snuck down to the basement. The blond woman was crying hysterically.

He went outside and sat in his car for a long moment wondering if he should call the police. He decided it was best not to get in the middle of a catfight and he drove away, checking his Tinder app as he headed for the highway.