More news:
· Slim Fast hires Dick Cheney as new spokesperson. "Go fuck yourself. Big time," reads new slogan.
· Weapons of mass destruction finally found in Iraq: Commercial airplanes.
· 9/11 Commission goes on book tour to promote its debut release. Critics pan the tome as a "failure of imagination."
· KFC chickens riot, capture Colonel Sanders and threaten to behead him unless all their brothers and sisters are liberated. Company officials blame the movie Chicken Run.
· Gay mafia leaves a decapitated head of a French poodle in George Bush's bed. Commander in chief vows to smoke out the anal-doers and rid the world of gayness.
· John Ashcroft makes surprise visit to Urban League, introduces himself as "J. Ash," performs hip hop version of his classic hit single "Let the motherfuckin' eagle soar."
· Terror color chart changed to black and white to better reflect administration policy.
· Latest conspiracy theory contends that a shadowy cabal known as the Bulliminati is covertly fattening up Americans with misleading nutrition information to usher in a Fat World Order.

New reality shows slated for the fall season:
· The Candidate. George W. Bush and John Kerry spend a whole month together in a mansion filled with lobbyists. Who will get in bed with whom? Don't miss the sizzling behind the scenes deal-making. Each episode concludes with both candidates handing out long-stemmed roses to their favorite special interest groups.
· The Apprentice of The Dark Side. The evil Emperor must choose among several aspiring Sith Lords, all vying for the coveted job of "Darth Executive," in charge of overseeing construction of the Deathstar. Each round eliminates a contestant with the famous tagline "You're fired," and is then zapped with lightning and thrown off a ledge to his infernal doom.
· Aramaic Idol. The nation wide search for the next messiah. Come put your healing powers to the test and go head to head with other saviours and miracle workers for the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, forever and ever amen. Produced by Mel Gibson.
· CNN Cribs: News Anchor Edition. Paula Zahn gives a sneak peek of her kickin' pad in the O.C., all West Coast flava y'all cuz the bitch is mad bangin' wit the bling bling, know what I'm saying? Holla!

On suffering. You gotta wonder about suffering. Like, why is it even here? Who let this crap into the universe? Aren't there like, karmic bouncers patrolling the space-time continuum, making sure a nuisance like suffering doesn't creep into existence? Where does this shit come from? If I were designing the cosmos, I wouldn't make the stuff. I'd make only varying degrees of happiness. So you'd have your standard issue Contentment, right, which you can upgrade to Satisfaction, and later trade that in for the fully-loaded fuel-injected Happiness. Along the way you can accessorize with stuff like Bliss, Pleasure, Joy, Euphoria and Ecstacy. I'll even throw in some real potent shit like Super-Orgasmo-Love'splosion that'll like, kill you and resurrect you at the same time. Oh, my universe would rock. All Bliss, All The Time, baby. It'll be the Amsterdam of existence. The Happiest Universe in the World. But then, if the world was like that people would be jonesin' for Super-Orgasmo-Love'splosion all the time. I mean, Contentment is nice and all, but it sort of sucks donkeyballs compared to the real good shit, ya know? So there'd be all these joy junkies and cartels and gang wars and death and, well, suffering. Which brings us back to square one: Who let this crap into the universe?

And now some more made up news:
· The Democratic and Republican Parties are co-opted by corporations and subsequently renamed The Pepsi Party and The Coca-Cola Party. "Now I understand the difference between the two sides," said one college freshman. Meanwhile, Ralph Nader announces his candidacy under the Shasta Party.
· Bush discovers weapons of mass destruction in the U.S. "Pinch my tits!" shrieked the commander in chief. "We're evil-doers!" After a hastily cancelled national emergency Dick Cheney and Condoleezza Rice wrestle the President to the ground and explain that "we're the good guys so it's okay."
· State to require a "screwing test" for those seeking a marriage license. Couples will be evaluated in several key categories, including thrust per minute ratio, "orgasm faces," and screaming decibel.
· Arnold Schwarzennegger promises to "terminate Iraq." "I will governate them and I will grope them and I will say 'Hasta la vista, camel babies!' I'm so excited my muscles are bulging with pah-wer."

Some rumors circulating about Tatsuya Ishida's disappearance:
· After years of hedonistic excess and debauchery he donates all his belongings to charity and decides to "walk the earth."
· Convicted on four counts of obstruction of justice, perjury, and general badness, he is sentenced to 15 years in maximum security prison.
· After inadvertently exposing his right nipple on network television he is taken in by federal authorities and beaten like Jesus.
· He finally succumbs to the Dark Side of the Force and slaughters a village of Sand People.
· Tibetan monks identify him as the 15th Dalai Lama and arrange for his immediate evacuation.
· Friends and family conduct an intervention and send him to rehab, where he battles his addiction to sex, drugs, and rock 'n' roll. So far no progress has been reported.
· Upon serving his requisite number of years as emissary on earth his people from Planet Pimptastica come to take him home.

More on life as a movie. Much of our lives is spent on marketing. Make-up, exercise, dieting, clothes, hair, money, charm, attitude, the strut, the pose, the Blue Steel look. We're like walking billboards advertising ourselves. A sneak peek of upcoming attractions. Meanwhile our actual production is in disarray--we're over budget, doing poorly at private test screenings and focus groups, creatively stagnant, morale low. So we're endlessly tinkering, touching up, editing, rewriting, tailoring ourselves to best suit a mass audience. There's like this studio executive in our heads telling us to cut certain things out, make it "lighter," give it a happy ending, and put some explosions in there too. Kids love explosions. And the uncompromising artist within protests: "But that's not life!" Thus the inner conflict of our movie life: To be a palatable crowd-pleaser catering to the mainstream... or something true to life no matter what they say?

If life is a movie most people would consider themselves the star of their own feature. Guys might imagine they're living some action adventure epic. Chicks maybe are in a rose-colored fantasy romance. And homosexuals are living la vida loca in a fabulous musical. Still others may take the indie approach and think of themselves as an anti-hero in a coming of age flick. Or a retro badass in an exploitation B movie. Or the cable man in a very steamy adult picture. Some people's lives are experimental student art films that don't make any sense. Some are screwball comedies. Others resemble a documentary, all serious and educational. A few lives achieve blockbuster status and are hailed as a tribute to the human spirit. Some gain a small following and enjoy cult status. And some never got off the ground due to insufficient funding. I don't know what my life is but I do know that I'm constantly squabbling with the director over creative control, throwing prima donna tantrums and pouting in my personal trailor when things don't go my way.
-T.

On humanity. Sometimes I imagine humanity as one giant being made up of smaller individual beings, like Voltron. And when the Forces of Evil start acting up, we all band together to form the Mighty People-Tron! Europe would be the torso. Africa would be the pelvis. The Middle East the heart. Asia would supply the gadgets and knickknacks. Russia can be the hat. And America will form the ego! Yes. Impressive figure, this Humanity-Bot. A shining gleaming champion of justice and liberty. Until, of course, you realize there are no forces of evil besides our own damn selves. So this majestic Humani-Tor is always at odds with himself, in-fighting, bickering, hating on himself. A big ol' Robo-Hamlet, holding up a skull, going, "What is this quintessence of dust? Man delights not me." He's been to the moon. He split the atom. He's made cool stuff. And he's also done some pretty crappy things too. The bad boy of Mother Nature, the one with Holy Father issues. Maybe he'll learn to love himself someday. Maybe he'll tear down all the walls and weapons he's built and get his groove back, you know?

On people. Some people are hard to get. Others are easy. Some people like to be got and stay got. Some people would rather do the getting and avoid getting got. Some people get one person and stick to them forever. Some people want to get as many as they can while the getting's good. Some people are very picky about who to get and by whom to be got. Some are not. They just take what they can get. Some people just don't get people. Some people read books and attend seminars on how to get people. Some people only get their own gender. Some people only get the opposite gender. Some get both and are kee-razy sex rebels. Some people are not happy with what they got. So they try and go get something else. Some are rendered gotten and rebel against their getter by getting ungot and getting someone else to be their own gotten which really is just a way to get back at the person who got them in the first place. Some people get tired of getting each other and get away from it all. Some people think there's more to life than getting each other and are hard at work trying to get whatever it is they're trying to get instead. And some people have realized that people and things and basically everything in life is fundamentally ungettable so there's no reason to try so hard at getting them. Get it?

When I was a kid I occupied myself trying to invent the web-slinging wristband that Spider-Man wore. Naturally this required one wrist watch, one plastic spoon, and several ounces of magical webbing fluid that comes in convenient ready to use cartridges. That last one would always stump me, effectively stalling my dreams of becoming Spider-Man. Now that I'm older, wiser, and like, totally way more mature, I've come to realize how foolish I was. I mean, before I go and invent the web- slinging doohickey, I gotta go get bit by a radioactive spider first! Duh! See, I had my priorities all wrong. Think of all the radioactive spiders that slipped under my radar cuz I was too busy taking apart wrist watches. Imagine all those mutant arachnids I coulda caught had I not been off making web juice out of Elmer's glue. Live and learn, I suppose. So if you ever see a guy wearing multiple wrist watches with plastic spoons jutting out of them, holding a glowing spider in his hand, going, "Bite me!" it's probably me--finally making my dreams come true.

Laughter is the face orgasm. When you laugh, the private organs must go, "What the heck was that? I thought we were in charge of fun!" It must freak the ol' nads out. I imagine there's a running competition between the sex drive and the sense of humor. A battle between the funny bone and the boner. Which can cause more pleasure? The ha ha or the oo la la? Comedy or hot dripping sweaty naughty good times? Which begs the question: After you share a big hearty laugh with someone--the kind that makes you convulse with nasal snort noises--do you still respect each other in the morning? Do you avoid each other, then bump into them at the water cooler and sheepishly go, "So. Things got weird, huh? I laughed. You laughed. One thing led to another..." Ever look at someone and go, Man, I'd sure love to get together with that piece of funniness and laugh and laugh till milk shoots outta me. That person will make milk come out my nose over and over and over again. Ooh. Yeah. Tell me the one about the rabbi and the penguins, baby... Right there... Yeah... Ah! Ah! AH HA HA HA HA HA!

Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And days of auld lang syne?

We've cruised around in tricked out Datsuns
Throwin' up gangsta signs;
We've made like bandits at the mall,
Since days of auld lang syne.

We done time in detentation, boy
Cuz we was out of line,
And everytime we'd bust on out
Since days of auld lang syne.

So here's a hand, my dear friend,
And give a hand o' thine;
We'll take a toke of kindness yet,
For days of auld lang syne.

2004! Unhh!

Have yourself a bitchin' little Chanukah
May your beats be phat
From now on your spirit will be where it's at, yo

Have yourself a kickin' little Kwanzaa
Load up on Courvoisier
From now on the haters will be miles away, oh ooh

Here we are in old school days
Buggin' out to old school jams, ah
Faithful peeps all up in here
Gather 'round as the music slams, ooh

Through the years we all still be tight
We'll make it good somehow
So shake it like a polaroid pictcha, ohh
(shake it, shake it, shake it, shake it)
And have yourself a rawkin' little Ramadan now

Happy holidays!
xoxo

And now for some words of wisdom:
· A Zen koan: Zen master said to his pupil, "I own you, bitch. Know that." And the pupil was owned. And he knew it.
· The Tao of Tat: Do not seek your own advantage. That might prevent me from gaining the upper hand.
· Confucius say: One day people from every race and culture will eat my food and bust open my cookie and read my Goddamn philosophy, boyyyyyyyy! East side! Huh!
· Jedi proverb: Fun to put the predicate ahead of the subject, it is.
· Famous Cat Aphorism: Meow meow meow meow meow meow meow. Meowwwwwww.
· Crazy people wisdom: Holy bong bong doogle my mixy! Worship my Bangkok, peanut face! Scooby snack vroom!
· Your daily affirmation: I am the shiznit. I am off the hizzle. And doggone it, people dig me!

All I ever wanted in life was to be worshipped like a god, live like a rock star, drive women wild, make a fortune, live fast, die young, conquer the universe, travel the world, meet interesting people, solve the Grand Unification Theory, find the Missing Link, fight the good fight, live for the moment, seize each day, know what really matters, end world hunger, cure cancer, change the world, vanquish the dragon, save the princess, be super popular but too cool to care, climb Mount Everest, scale the Great Wall of China, swim the seven seas, howl at the moon, sound my barbaric yawp over the rooftops of the world, tag up this earth with my street name, run around with perfect conviction that my life is the meaning of life, be master of my own fate, embrace my destiny, feel as much as I can feel, think as much as I can think, do as much as I can do, get down, get up, dance to the beat of life on and on and when I'm done let the people go, "Now that was a funky man."