gilbrodian ramblings IV: Captain Coward, etc.

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If you haven’t seen the wall of text currently on Zeno’s front page, you should go check it out. It… is… amazing and hilarious in its incoherence. Beautiful stuff.

Reading that madness inspired me to post a new slew of back-and-forths from John and i, the little silly stories we write to entertain ourselves during the tedium of work.

I hope you enjoy them. Remember, i wrote some of this, but not all of this.

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None but the Gods

Guess who i have had training me this last week? Scooser. He is instructing me in the intricate art of the monthly forward credit mass adjustment posting audit. I had never before known of the existence of pleasures as potent and exhilarating as these. My friend, i have tasted indescribable euphoria, limitless joy, and a sense of power that had hitherto in my mind been the privilege of none but the gods.

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Missed Opportunity

You know that scene in The Goonies where Chunk is in the freezer and he finds a corpse in there? I mean, it’s a great movie, an ’80s classic I’ve watched dozens of times. But i just could never figure out why Chunk didn’t eat that corpse. Yeah, yeah, I know he didn’t have time enough to eat the whole thing, obviously, but he at least could have gnawed off a few pieces. It’s a woefully missed opportunity for character development, in my opinion.

That is insightful, my friend. I had a similar reaction when recently viewing Flight of the Navigator, another classic film from that era. Do you remember the part where young David is examining the fantastic menagerie of specimens inside the spaceship, and he pauses near the “Garpuntle from South Petrawlis”, which takes a sudden vicious snap at his foolishly outstretched hand? Max the computer then gravely warns the boy that “Once he [the Garpuntle] bites, he never lets go.” That was scary! But then David just shrugs off his fright and moves on to the next specimen, the “Feenastarus from the Pixar Elliptic.” That was jarring to me… it always felt cropped, unfinished, like something was left on the editing room floor. I always thought that David would have immediately removed his pants and waved his penis around mockingly in front of the Garpuntle, confident in his agility to evade any further lunges. It would have been very brave. Or heck, have the Garpuntle latch on to the end of his dick and stay there for the rest of the movie, that would have been funny.

I suppose nothing is perfect.

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Stooge Truth

Like everyone else, i’ve seen and thoroughly enjoyed the new Hollywood remake of The Three Stooges. It’s a well-crafted film that pays just homage to the legendary performers of yesteryear while updating the mythos for today’s generation of emerging Stoogaholics. This gives me ample opportunity to ramble on with others at length, for while most people enjoy the antics of the Stooges, i am, for lack of a better term, a dedicated Stoogologist. You’ve seen the incredible array of Stooge paraphanalia in my house, so you know that i speak the truth when i claim that only a handful of persons in the world — two or three, at most — might know more about the Stooges’ oeuvre than myself. And even that i would dispute. Would you like to know Larry’s blood type or the zip codes of their respective places of birth? I have that information. Oh, i’m moving into the realm beyond the interest of the layman — forgive me. Well, how about this interesting wrinkle of Stooge lore — did you know that nearly every Stooges short that you see played on television these days is one of their early works? The latter ones are hardly ever shown. Here’s why…

…in the early forties, Jerome “Curly” Horowitz began to suffere severe hypertension as well as ailments related to his heavy drinking, which were exacerbated by the stress of the strenuous shooting schedule imposed upon the troupe. Curly lost weight, developed severe jaundice, and was too exhausted to remember his lines or engage in his trademark physical shenanigans. The resulting material is therefore decidedly subpar and, to be perfectly honest, very depressing to view. An infamous shot in “Hootenanny Hijinks” in which a gaunt and delirious Curly suffers a grand mal seizure and looses control of his bowels was mistakenly left in the initial cut before it was noticed and later removed. (Although it has since been restored in the new Criterion DVD versions.) The next year, Curly suffered a catastrophic stroke that ended his career and led to his untimely death from massive cerebral hemorrhages. Curly’s eldest brother, Moses “Moe” Horowitz blamed the head of the studio, Harry Cohn, and assaulted him by throwing hot roofing tar in his face. Fortunately, Moe was sufficiently wealthy and well-connected to avoid arrest from the incident. Curly was replaced by brother Shemp Howard and the Stooges continued on for many years.

As for Cohn, the boiling tar fused with his flesh and went so far as to alter his DNA, and in the next five years he gradually mutated into a tar-skinned abomination, a barely-human monstrosity that was unable to survive without constant medical care. He became reclusive and rarely left his Palo Alto ranch except to occasionally act — often without the aid of makeup — in science fiction films. He’s best remembered as playing the recurring role of “the Toxic Terror” on the old 1960’s-era Adam West Batman serial. Of course, the show wasn’t called Batman back then; it was first aired under the title Captain Coward and the Amazing Danger Squad. It began life as a documentary but was heavily edited because it contained a good deal of proprietary military information that later became classified. Once in syndication, all dialogue was redubbed, the signature sound cards (Blang! Wazoom!, etc) were added, bat ears were digitally grafted to Captain Coward’s hood, and all the overt homosexual references were removed, much to the dismay of Burt Ward.

As for the remaining Stooges, they ultimately died within mere weeks of one another, and were interred with great honor in their native land of Czechoslovakia. There the Stooge Mausoleum stands today, where its beneficent presence is said to cure various ailments and offer spiritual succor the the afflicted.

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Drunkards

As most know, there are three general varieties of drunkards; the giddy, the morose, and the surly. The giddy drunkard is he that is possessed by childishness and idiot glee when imbibing, to either the delight or the chagrin of his fellows. The morose drunkard is a habitually lachrymose creature that broods on both the grievances of the day and the ancient sorrows of times forgotten. The surly drunkard is the man who takes his liquor and becomes a bilious lout, combative and ornery, given to roister and brawl at the least provocation. For the purposes of this campaign, gentlemen, we must carefully cull both the giddy and the morose drunkards from our selected population until only the surly remain. They are the key to the entire enterprise. As for the others, dispose of them as you will for they will have scant use in the coming days.

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Dinner with the Clerihews

There have been stretches in my life when every day seems the same; routines are established and followed for want of any compelling reason to deviate. Then there are those times when life can change in a single moment. A single remarkable day can irrevocably alter the entire course of your life. When i was a junior in college, i bought a lottery ticket on a whim — the next week i found out that i had won approximately $80,000. I immediately quit my miserable night job, returned to graduate school, and asked Joyce to marry me. What would my life have been like if that small chance event had happened differently? There’s no telling.

Over twenty years later, i had another such noteworthy day. It all started when i accepted Professor Clerihew’s offer to dine with his family on a certain Friday. Myself, Joyce, and our son Seth drove out to their lake cottage where we watched the season finale of American Idol (Our wives’ current guilty pleasure) and then chatted about politics and such while the children amused us with raucous games of Rock Band (Oh, these kids will never understand how amusing it is to see them earnestly bobbing in rhythm to the music of Kansas and Mannfred Mann.) Finally, we settled down to the meal in their splendid spruce dining room. After an enormous pastitso salad with olives and feta, Mrs. Clerihew brought out the main course and filled our plates with seasoned steamed vegetables from a stoneware crock. Artisan bread and honey accompanied. Seth, who was in a bit of a temper that day, turned his nose up at the heaping pile of cauliflower, broccoli, eggplant, and wild red carrot that sat before him, and chose that moment to have one of his occasional outbursts (for which we had previously sought to address with therapy and medication.)

“What is all this? Isn’t there any meat?”

“Seth,” i gently scolded him, “as i told you on the way over, the Clerihews are vegetarians. The choose not to consume meat.”

“That’s gay!”

“Seth, don’t be rude!” Joyce snapped.

“Nah, nigga!” he blurted, his temper rising, “THEY’RE rude. They should have some normal food when they have guests over. Anyone else would. What the fuck?”

Oh, needless to say, we were rather embarrassed. I raised my voice to him and threatened to deny him certain privileges, which was usually the only way to quash these fits of his. But he continued to sulk and picked viciously and theatrically at the excellent meal. All might have returned to relative normality if not for the older of the Clerihew girls — Lyssa — who was rightly disgusted by his boorish behavior.

“What, do you want some dead bird bodies to eat? Some bloody cow parts and hog intestines full of lard and rotten shit? You’re too fat anyway. Only stupid people eat that disgusting garbage, that’s what Daddy always says!”

Clerihew stammered politely, “Lyssa, that’s not exactly what i….”

From what i understand, there was some lingering resentment on Seth’s part towards the girl, stemming from the fact that she was part of a more popular clique than Seth and his friends at school. I can see how my chubby and awkward son might have felt some jealously towards this comely and whip-smart girl, although that hardly excuses what happened next.

Seth stewed for a minute more while the chemicals in his brain reacted in ways that might have once been conducive to brute survival but are now considered disadvantageous. With no warning he leaped to his feet and screamed “FUCK YOU, LEAKING CUNTFACE!” to Lyssa and flipped his plate over, showering her with wet chunks of food. He then ran into the Clerihew’s living room like some marauding Hottentot bent on blood vengeance. Joyce and i both sprang to our feet, but were both waylaid by separate chance catastrophes. Joyce had barely taken one step before she succumbed to a fatal aneurysm and collapsed on the spot. I tripped over her prone form and felt my knee give out; i had injured it long ago playing squash and it was always problematic. I felt the tendon tear with a sickening stab of agony and fell directly forward, my face smashing into the hardwood floor. Here is where i admit that i had never before experienced such an injury, having never suffered so much as a punch to the face in some brawl due to my generally pacifist nature. I lay there gawping, while my brain screamed “stunned, stunned, i’m stunned!” on endless repeat. The Clerihews were on their feet, unsure of whom to help first. Seth, meanwhile, had apparently grabbed Mrs. Clerihew’s golf club from the corner, and was feverishly smashing anything he came across. I heard glass breaking — their coffee table, perhaps — and Seth’s inhuman, barking cries of rage. He then swung the nine iron with lunatic force through the screen of their television; what followed was a combination of mingled noise that i could barely decipher; a cry of surprise, a wail, sobs from the younger daughter, moans and overturned chairs came together in a chorus of chaos. As you might have already guessed, Seth was electrocuted and died only seconds after Joyce.

Things were very different after that day. The few years following were full of mourning and recovery. My leg needed several surgeries to repair the damage, but luckily i was well-insured. But you will be happy to know that i eventually remarried and had another son, in all honesty a better son than the one i lost. And, surprisingly, we often ate dinner with the Clerihews on certain Fridays. We were both colleagues and rational men not given to superstition, and had many stimulating conversations on the strange vicissitudes of life.

Ah, life.

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The Electroquickening

As i expected, my transformation was successful, but there were complications that i had never forseen. With my meat body vaporized, my mind became pure energy; there was nothing left of me but consciousness and ionized electron patterns of nearly infinite complexity. I did what i had always intended and penetrated the worldwide network as the limitless streams of data fed into me at a stunning clip. My knowledge increased at a geometric rate and i felt myself on the verge of what one would call omniscience…

…but as this process compounded, i felt the tenor of my spirit change. With infinite information came an all-encompassing ennui; the more i knew, the less i cared. I sensed that i was rapidly racing towards some horizon past which i would lose all desire, all direction, and all appreciation for the power at my command. The bright point of my identity would spread so thin that it might vanish altogether, as a stream would cease to be if it grew to a borderless ocean. I relented at the last moment and with a tremendous act of will, i deliberately pared down my self, cutting off 99.97% of what i had gained and shunting it aside where i might access it later. This entire process, which seemed far longer than my previous 47 years of being, in fact occurred entirely within the span of 29.431 seconds.

Dimished but delighted, i was content to explore the planet through the electromagnetic landscape that was now my kingdom. I could zip from city to city on ethernet lines, ride a bolt of lightning into the stratosphere, bounce myself off an orbiting satellite and return to the Earth through a random person’s cel phone signal. I saw all, experienced everything around me in a bright, filterless panorama. Such fun! But now where to? After my initial euphoria subsided to a pleasant hum, i came to rest insidea desktop monitor inside a slate-gray apartment house in Planchett Falls, Oregon. Some naked fat guy was intently viewing a pornographic video and his beefy hands violently pummeled his genital regions with an alarming amount of force. I was about to move on when i noticed the content of his entertainment; it was the kind of thing i always detested, a scene that simulated a violent and dehumanizing rape. “Yeah, bitch,” he whisperd with fervor, “you fucking deserve that shit, you take it all, you’re nothing to me, come on, man, smear that slut! Smear that fucking slut to death!” On the screen, a willowy blond was being gangbanged and tormented by a gang of burly thugs. Said thugs were utilizing large amounts of processed meat products in their horseplay, which i suppose is a component of some odd fetish. Anyway, i found myself becoming irritated, and decided to experiment a little. Focusing my energies, i shot several spikes of electricity from the monitor which collided with his chest; he screamed as his chest hair burst into flame and his nipple skin fried like fresh crispy bacon. He screeched and his leather chair was soon doused with his own foul excrement. I didn’t kill him, of course. But i did leave a tracking spark inside his monitor, and fully intend to return instantly the next time the fool engages in such sport. I wonder how many times i’ll have to school him before he learns? Come on, man, just watch some normal porn, people making love and having a good time. I have no problem with that, you know.

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Between the Pillars of Kolob

Tabb let his parents’ Sentra cruise to a gentle stop along the rapidly-vanishing desert road. Like the rest of the arid land surrounding the Great Salt Flats, it was without landmark or trace of vegetation; barely distinguishable from any other. He glanced over to Colton, who had been staring pensively out the passenger-side window for the majority of the drive.

The two friends climbed out of the car and sauntered about the rocky expanse. Tabb handed his friend a Coke and they sipped the sugary drinks in relative silence. Dusk was approaching. As the fading sun reached the mountains, the sky burst into splendid color; a fathomless blend of orange, purple, and azure.

“I never get tired of seeing that,” Tabb said with awe.

“It really is gorgeous,” Colton sighed, “i’m going to miss it.”

Tabb glanced at his friend. He’d heard whispers, rumors from Sarah and the other gossips, but now the last of his suspicions were confirmed.

“Miss it? Why would you miss it?” he asked Colton laughingly, trying to sound as if he was still blissfully ignorant of the situation.

“Because… look, Tabb, i’ve put off telling you for too long. I gotta come clean, man. I’m not going to Brigham Young in the fall…”

“…what?”

“Yeah… i’ve made up my mind. I’m going to NYU.”

“You’re not serious, Colt.”

“I totally am.”

“And your parents are allowing this?” Tabb asked, disbelieving.

“Yeah, they are. Trust me, i’ve had it out with them a million times. But i finally made them realize… look, i gotta get out of here, man. Out of Salt Lake, out of Utah. Not forever, of course, but for a while. I have to see other places. There’s a whole other world out there and i have to see it before i die.”

“But New York? That place is depraved, Colt. Utterly beyond the reach of the faith.”

“Maybe it is, Tabb. Maybe it is. Or maybe things aren’t as simple as we’ve been taught…”

“What are you saying?”

“Look, Tabb, don’t play dumb. You know how it is with me. I’ve been… thinking for some time now. Questioning, doubting, seeking the truth in the only way i know how. There are hundreds of religions, thousands even. And every one of us believes that they’re the only one with the truth. The LDS is no different than the Baptists, the Catholics, the Muslims…”

“…oh, god!” Tabb laughed.

“….or heck, the Hindus, whatever. All i know is that i can no longer accept an orthodoxy, any orthodoxy. I’m not sure how i got to this place, but i have. I mean, the Inheritence? The Endowment? The revelation of Moroni, the Ascension to Kolob? Heh… Tabb, do you realize how these concepts look to anyone not from here? Anyone not programmed the way we were? They’re regarded in the same way we regard the Circle of Karma or the divinity of Mohammad. They’re… just stories. Fairytales.”

Tabb began to scowl. It was worse than he could have imagined. He crumpled up his empty cola can, dropped it to the ground, then thought better of it and picked it up again and tossed it back inside the car.

The sun was now gone and the horizon was clouding over. They heard a few muffled thunderclaps and the far-off howling of the approaching storm. The horizon was dark purple with the occasional muffled flash of electric blue light.

Colton smiled at the majestic sight and turned to look at Tabb with gentle affection. “I had to tell you, man, even though i know you think i’m crazy. I owe you that much, we’ve been friends since forever. It’s just the way things are.”

“I see.”

“But hey, screw it, man! We have three more months. I’ll be home in the summer and on holidays. Four years isn’t that long, you know. My uncle still wants me to work in his office as soon as i graduate, and that’s… probably where i’ll end up. But you never know, i guess. For the first time in years, i don’t know what’s going to happen, and it’s exciting. It’s really exciting!”

Tabb sighed, clapped his friend’s arm, and tried to smile.

“It’s going to be really boring at Brigham without you, Colt, you know that?” he said with a faint smile. “Without you, i’ll probably be hanging out with Myron again. You know you’re doing that to me, right?”

“Heh, yeah, i’m sorry about that.”

The unearthly howling intensified. The wind was blowing past them, cold and inexorable.

“Man, that storm is really coming in fast.”

“We better get back, huh?”

“Yeah, let’s go.”

Colton took one last long look at the matchless vista of the Salt Flats as streaks of lightning shot from the clouds and grazed the infinite landscape. It really was gorgeous. Then he walked back to the Sentra. His hand grasped the door handle but he pulled it back with a start.

“Huh? Hey, Tabb, the door’s locked.”

Tabb’s pale face regarded him cooly from inside the car.

“Come on, man, open up. Seriously.”

Tabb did nothing.

Colton banged on the door, the windshield, pleading with his friend. Still Tabb sat motionless, and eventually closed his eyes as if deep in prayer. The gusts of wind became a howling gale.

“Come on, man! Tabb! TABB!!!”

Colton thought quickly and began to crawl underneath the car. Unhurriedly, Tabb revved the engine and reversed, backing away about 20 yards. Colton screamed and rolled out of the way, his arm narrowly avoiding being crushed by the spinning tire.

“WHAT THE FUCK, MAN! STOP FUCKING AROUND AND LET ME IN!”

He chased after the car, but Tabb continued to glide in reverse, mockingly just out of his reach. Before he knew it, Colton realized that they were now far from any hint of a road, and salt and sand now crunched beneath his sneakers. He moaned with horror as he saw the wall of whirling gray approach…

…for you see, there are secrets in the land of the Latter-Day Saints that are virtually unknown to the outside world, for the inahabitants guard jealously their unique corner of the earth. One such secret is the Daharrak, also known as the Baroda, the Cleansing Breath of God; it is the name given to the wild salt storms that ravage the Flats with spectacular ferocity. The winds of the Daharrak can reach speeds greater than 300 miles per hour, and their lethal nature comes from the innumerable pieces of rock salt, quartz, mica, and shale that are carried within their currents. For eons, the Children of Moroni have regarded this phenomenon as serving a twofold purpose — most importantly as a natural barrier against interlopers and stragglers, but also as living embodiment of God’s vengeance against those who abandon the faith.

These are the old ways, the true ways, Tabb thought from within the safe confines of the Sentra. Relative newcomers like Colton and his family would be aware of them, yes, but not privy to their purpose, nor the ancient parchments that were hidden within the Temple that contained the secrets of their cycles. For hundreds of years they had studied the science of the Daharrak and knew with remarkable accuracy the seasonal paths of the salt winds as they swept from the Colorado Plateau through the Great Basin, winding through the Bryce Canyon and the Snake River Valley and its innumerable offshoots. Such knowledge originated with the followers of Smith himself, and was only shared among the inner families…

…as Tabb contemplated the wonders of his homeland, Colton began to feel the first stings of the salty sand. Tiny particles whirred past his face, stinging his cheeks and drawing small rivulets of blood from his flesh. At last he gave up any hope in his friend and attempted to run and find some other haven; of course this was futile. The rushing particles became marble-sized chunks of crystallized mineral, and the pain that they inflicted when colliding with his skin was beyond any human endurance. He staggered and fell, and curled into a fetal ball for protection. A momentary reprieve, before the even larger natural missiles began to flay his back. Screaming, writhing, spasming with shock and agony, he rolled frantically back and forth seeking some impossible escape. The winds were now strong enough that he was carried along in their buffeting currents. At some point, his screams ceased and what remained of Colton Brewster lay silently amongst the salt until it was shredded beyond recognition.

Still, Tabb waited calmly, grieving for his lost friend. He knew that it would sting for many years, leaving a sorrow within him that would heal slowly. But he knew that it was the best of all possible outcomes allowed by the Father. Colt had been claimed by Him while he was still within the Ring of Mountains, still within range of the Temple’s Light. His soul would not be lost in the chaos outside, but would move on to whatever phase of the Journey was intended for him.

Tabb closed his eyes and as always, the Vision was illuminated in his inner sight. He saw the Pillars of Kolob, he saw the lost galaxy of Shadhat, he saw the ring of endless light around the planet, not yet fully formed, where he was destined to rule throughout eternity. And since Tabb Donovan was still a young man, he saw especially the multitude of ivory-skinned and golden-haired brides with whom he would share his dominion. Their soft, pliable bodies whispered to him beneath their silken robes, a promise of infinite delights to come upon his ascension…

Tabb felt his pants stiffen, and chided himself. Not now, he thought, now is only to grieve and rejoice for Colton.

Once the great storm had passed, Tabb stepped out onto the glistening turf and gazed balefully at the ravaged surface of his parents’ Sentra. It was another loss, but one that would not trouble him much. He must return to the Temple by morning and invoke the Rite of Gilzade, and make known to the rest of the faithful the news of Colton’s taking. In all likelihood, Tabb’s father would be fully reimbursed for the damage from the Temple’s bottomless coffers.

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