For today's show we will be playing drums in the backyard.

I'M YELLING! YELLING YELLING YELLING! BECAUSE I CAN AND IT'S SO NICE OUT. YELL FOR THE PRETTY DAY! HOORAAAY! HOORAAAY!

Every pretty day is a gift from the Almighty God Himself, kids. Draped in Holy chains with Razer Barbs of Justice and Truth, He pulls forth from his Backback of Power the Pretty Day and sprinkles a healthy dose over our heads. Because we are all so nice and He Loves us.

PERFORMANCE ART
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Mr. Happy Puppet Head wheels out a washing machine and a dryer. I walk out carrying a garbage bag full of dirty clothes.

And I wash my dirty laundry. About a week's worth. I don't separate the colors and instead of detergent I use rancid milk. While the clothes are being washed I sit on top of the dryer and stare into space. I repeat over and over "I'm good, I'm clean." A hidden microphone picks it up and amplifies it painfully loud.

After a long time, maybe half-an-hour, I take the damp clothing out of the washer and put it into the dryer. I don't check the lint trap. That's what suckers do. I turn on the dryer, perch myself back on top of the humming machine, but this time my mantra is changed to "I tumble and cry," also amplified far too loud for comfort.

Eventually the clothes are dry, and I fold them. Not very neatly, though. Paying attention to neat creases and proper folding etiquite is for suckers.



Doing my laundry is a metaphor for facism.

I can't remember falling asleep, but now i'm awake. My mouth tastes awfull and the back of my head feels funny against my pillow. I reach up to find it's been shaved and the skin is raw.

Looking in the mirror I see I have gotten a tatoo taking up all the property on the back of my skull. Through the scabs and puffy skin I can make out a face... only there are too many lines on it that don't match up.

And I remember. At least parts of it. Stumbling in the tatoo place, yelling at the tatoo guy... and walking out with a portrait of my face permanently drawn in simple blue and red off-set lines on the back of my head. I pick up the 3-D glasses from the bathroom countertop and study myself in the mirror. The tatoo face grimaces in pain from getting the tatoo of itself on the back of it's head.

So before my hair grows out I'll have to buy lots of these 3-D glasses to give to everyone. As much as I regret getting it, I don't like to see a good 3-D tatoo go to waste.

I am in a sports bar on Sunday night. It's pretty empty. Mr. Happy Puppet Head is playing darts with a large naked monster. I'd like to play, but I've had problems with that monster before.

There's a woman sitting alone at the bar. She's attractive enough. Blonde. I'd much rather make out with her than not make out with her. I sit next to her, close enough to whisper in her ear. Close enough to smell her shampoo and the alchohol on her breath.

Believe in Yourself.

You are good enough.

Believe in yourself because you are really great.

You are far too good for these other people.

Spit on them. Hurt them if it makes you feel good. You are truley on a higher level of exhistence than the rest of us.

You can fly. Spread your wings and soar, soar higher and higher. Forever. Fly.

Have sex with me. You are attractive and of legal age. As I've already said, you're really great.

We are one. One in eternity, of one mind and one soul. White emptiness surrounds us in a blissfull glow of perfection far surpassing even that of the infinite beauty of Heaven itself.

I have clean sheets. And I just took a shower. Smell my hair if you don't believe me. We can pick up some condoms on the way home.

You are perfect.

His name is Addelbert but he goes by Ted. That's his middle name. He is currently unemployed, single, and lives in a man-made pond in an apartment complex. He'd invite you over, but the place is a mess.

I was a little sad today, children. Not for any specific reason, really. My life is good overall, but today I just felt deflated. I'm lonely and masturbate too much, and I really wish I could move to an apartment more centrally located, but I can't because I don't have money. So I was a little down.

Until I went home, took some drugs, and watched cartoons on the television. I've felt so much better since then.

So when you grow up and have to go to Health class in school, they'll tell you all sorts of mumbo-jumbo about not watching too much television and not doing drugs, but IGNORE THEM. Trust me. They'll say that drugs will rot your mind and you'll end up slicing your chest up to watch your guts as you jump off a building because you think you're Superman. No. The truth is that drugs make cartoons funnier. But not only cartoons, you yourself will become a pinale of hilarity, delighting all around you with your pithy witticisms. It's incredible the things modern drugs can do for you. You will decipher new meanings in common household objects and understand the world in a much deeper way than anyone else before you could possibly ever have done.

Which way to the presidential candidate that's in favor of more drugs and cartoons? That's who I'm voting for.

Now for the ADULT SITUATION episode. this is a special episode, aired at 3:00 AM when all the kids are asleep.

We have a full house tonight, glad to see all of you naked overweight people above the age of 40. I am the only person fully dressed because I am a guide tonight. A guide in your sexual education.

Here we have a large vat of oil. Cooking. Canola. Everybody climb the ladder and jump in. Make sure you go all the way under, otherwise you won't be properly lubricated. Try to inhale a little bit if you can. You're going to have to trust me, old fat people.

Now everyone stand in a circle facing inwards. Mr. Happy Puppet Head will put on your blindfolds, and on the count of three, everyone run straight ahead, crash into a big pile of oily flesh, and just start humping. Don't worry about who or what, just enjoy.

Okay? One... two... three!




Mr. Happy Puppet Head will be coming around with more oil soon, so don't worry. You guys are doing great.

I have a waterbed.

I'm digging a hole in the backyard at night. Except for my goggles and rubber boots, I'm completely naked.

Mr. Happy Puppet Head bobbles up.

Oh, hey Mr. Happy Puppet Head. It's a beautiful night, just thought I'd get some digging done. Yeah... oh? wow....

Mr. Happy Puppet Head dances around, his mouth opening and closing as he silently tells me his story.

Well, there's not much I can do for you, huh? You probably shouldn't have stolen that car... yeah, or the dogs, vases, televisions, or that teenager. No, that's never a good idea. No. No this hole isn't for hiding things, it's for the joy of digging naked at night. It's one of the simpler things in life. Theft and kidnapping aren't all there is, you know. For some it's very little of all there is.

Mr. Happy Puppet Head takes a look at the hole I've been digging. He nods, clearly impressed.

I tell him that No, it may not get you sex, or any sort of "high," but digging holes naked in the backyard at night can be more satisfying than any of those things. You laugh now, but wait until you're in prison. And yes, I will alert the authorities of your whereabouts and tell them everything you told me. Becasue I'm your friend, that's why. Now there's no need to yell.

Mr. Happy Puppet Head bobbles away.

Now kids, learn from Mr. Happy Puppet Head's mistakes. For all his smiling and bobbling around you'd think he's happy. But he's a drug addict, soon to be a convicted felon looking at some serious jail time, and his two kids can't stand the sight of him. The younger one vommits uncontrollably at the mention of his name.

So dig.