Tales of a Wandering Warlord Part 7: Hooray 4 Hollywood!

NOVEMBER 7th, 2006:

It was election day in the United States of America, and I decided to spend it at a place the media considers the heartland, Los Angeles.

"Maps to the stars," chanted a middle aged fellow in a floppy hat and sweaty 'wife-beater' t-shirt. I thought it was odd that puny Earthlings would be so interested in astronomy they'd be selling maps of outer space on street corners.

"How much oh sweaty merchant," I asked.

"5 bucks," he answered.

I dropped him a fiver and he handed me a map. Let me tell you I was disappointed.

"This is a star-map!" I declared. "It's just a map showing where celebrities live."

"Yeah," said the sweaty salesman, "it's a map of the stars."

"I want my 5 bucks back!" I declared, "I don't care to know where Bob Saget lives, in fact, no one, not even Bob Saget cares."

"No refunds," snarled the map dealer.

And that was when his head exploded like Louis Del Grande's in Scanners.

My telekinetic cranial blasts don't happen often, just when I'm feeling ripped off, and it's a blessing and a curse. It generally let's everyone know not to screw around with old Remulak, but it also makes calling tech support for Windows XP a very bloody affair.

As I pulled my fiver from the dead man's hand I heard a voice behind me yell.

"Put your hands up! LAPD!"

I turned to see to Los Angeles cops approaching me. To be polite, I put my hands up. "Sorry about the mess officers," I said, "I'll pay to clean that up."

"What are you," asked the 1st Cop, "a wise-guy?"

"No," I answered, "I'm a Flokian."

"Get him!" bellowed the 2nd Cop.

"I'm gonna taser him like a UCLA student!" said the 1st Cop.


"Are you coming on to me?" I asked, since the electrical device in the 1st Cop's hand was giving me the most pleasant sensation.

Then the 2nd Cop zapped me with his pleasure device.

"Listen," I told them, "you got me all wrong, old Remulak is strictly for the ladies. I could give the number of a guy in Philly who enjoys police work and 'man weekends' and maybe you could get together. Now if you don't mind, I've got places to be."


After some discussion, and little mental wiping, I left the two officers and set out to see more of this Hollywood place. They say it's the home of the 'celebrities' the people who control the habits of the common people more directly than their political leaders. I had to find some and get the pulse of this nation.

Maybe this 'star-map' might be useful after all.


"Who are you and what the hell are you doing in my house?" asked George Clooney.

"I'm Remulak MoxArgon and what does it look like I'm doing in your house?" I asked, sticking my head back in his fridge. "I'm making a sandwich. Sheesh, what's with all the tofu? Do you know where tofu really comes from, it's Snotglob's ear-wax. True story. Would it kill you to have a little pastrami in the house?"

"Security!" Clooney screamed, quite girlishly.

"Are you calling for that burly fellow in the black suit?" I asked, "According to my new map he probably landed in Leonardo Di Caprio's pool. Or his roof. He's a really rude fellow."

"All right," said Clooney holding up his hands, "just don't hurt me."

"Chill out," I said, "you're going to pop a blood vessel, and why is the front of your pants getting wet?"

Then Brad Pitt walked in.


"Hi Brad."

"You know this freak?" asked George Clooney.

"He used to go out with Angelina," said Brad.

"Yeah," I said, "so does she still bring stray children home everytime she goes out?"

Brad Pitt nodded. "We've got fifteen now."

"Why are the hot girls always insane?" I asked.

Brad shrugged.

"Well," said George Clooney, "I'll leave you two to chat while I change my pants."

"Say," said Brad Pitt, "why don't you join us, we're having a meeting of Hollywood Democrats."

"Sounds perfect."

Waiting for me in George Clooney's living room were Matt Damon, Rosie O'Donnell, Michael Moore, Michael J. Fox, Richard Belzer, Sean Penn, and Susan Sarandon.

"Everybody," said Brad Pitt, "I'd like you to meet Remulak MoxArgon."

"Hi," said almost everybody.

"Matt Damon!" screamed Matt Damon.

"This is the 'A' list?" I asked. "So are you folks excited about the mid-term election?"

"Yeah," said Sean Penn, "now we can end this fictitious war!"

"That's my line!" snapped Moore between bites of a all bean burrito.

"And you ripped it off some poster on Democratic Underground." snapped Susan Sarandon.

"How dare you expose my lack of originality!" screeched Moore before stomping out. Burrito in each hand, leaking grease onto the shag carpetting.

"I'm just glad to see the beginning of the end of George W. Bush's reign of terror!" declared Rosie O'Donnell.

"What reign of terror?" I asked, having run a few myself, I was interested in what definition these Earthlings had for it.

"He opposes same-sex marriage!" screamed Rosie. "He's a homophobe!"

"Here here!" chanted the others.

"Matt Damon!" squawked Matt Damon.

"So do a lot of homosexuals," I said, "some polls say a majority of them oppose it. Are they homophobes?"

"You're a homophobe!"

"Plus," I added, "he's fighting people who like to behead and hang homosexuals."

"He's still an evil homophobe because he's a Republican!" screamed Rosie before storming out of the house, by way of the kitchen.

"Bush banned stem cell research!" declared Michael J. Fox. "Forcing me to overdose on my medication so I can look extra-pathetic for Democratic campaign ads."

"Bush didn't ban embryonic stem cell research," I said, "in fact he legalised it. He just stopped federal funding to any project not using existing cell lines. Haven't you read anything on the subject?"

"Hey," said Fox, "I didn't even graduate high school, how can you expect to read all that stuff."

"Plus all the really promising research has been using umbilical cord stem cells, or stem cells generated from human fat cells, or nasal linings," I added, "so far no one's been able to produce anything useful out of embryonic cells."

"Just like a neo-con to start using facts," said Michael J. Fox before he stormed out the room.

"I know the truth," declared Richard Belzer. "Especially about Iraq. I know everything!"

"Even more than the soldiers serving there?" I asked.

"They're only in the army because flipping burgers requires too much mental agility," barked Belzer. "I know better."

"Weren't you expelled from school because you were too dumb to know when to keep your mouth shut?" I asked.

"Screw you," said Belzer before he stormed out.

"Besides," I said, "the bulk of the military's personnel is made up of the top 50% in intelligence rankings. They also outrank most civilians in the same age-range in education. Which is far better than Hollywood's score I must say."

"You're starting to sound like one of those fly-over country Jesus-freaks," said Susan Sarandon. "They're a bunch of fascist because they wouldn't go see the Dixie Chicks's movie."

"Maybe they don't see the value in watching a multimillion dollar movie by a trio of rich celebrities whining about being silenced when they haven't even stopped talking long enough to breathe."

"You are worse than Hitler!" screamed Sarandon, before storming out, her breasts slapping against her kneecaps.

"If you're going by body-count sure," I called out after her, "but the people I killed did something to deserve it. Hitler was just a little ass-wipe racist who killed folks over their religion of all things."

"Bush overthrew my friend Saddam," said Sean Penn, "now they're gonna hang him."

"Well," I said, "he did kill a lot of people, support terrorism, and was lying in wait to revive a nuclear weapons program."

"That's all lies!" screamed Sean Penn. "Saddam was just misunderstood!"

"Sean," I said, "you're a good actor, but I could fit what you know of the world on the head of a pin, in large type."

"Are you calling me stupid?"

"If you have to ask," I replied, "then you've answered your own question. Say, isn't that a paparazzi in the bushes?"

With a scream of fury Sean Penn leapt through the plate glass window, landing in the bushes with a heavy thud.

"MATT DAMON!" screamed Matt Damon, before leaping out after Sean.

"It wasn't a paparazzi," I said, "just a pigeon."

"Where did everyone go?" asked George Clooney as he came in.

"They all left," said Brad Pitt.

"Damn," said Clooney. "Now how are we going to plan our SUV parade to protest global warming?"

"Say," I said, "who did you vote for?"

"We don't vote," said Clooney, "that's for losers."

"I think I've learned all I can here," I said, finishing off my sandwich.


I was driving along a lonely stretched of Mulholland when there was a sudden flash of light, and a deafening boom. My rental car exploded and I found myself tumbling down a steep cliff.

I knew I shouldn't have rented an American car.

I hit bottom, dazed and battered. The world was spinning around me, but I could make out strange voices and dark shapes gathering around me.

"We got him," said one of the shapes. "He's still alive."

"How could he still be alive," said another shape, "that was one hell of a blast."

"Get him in the chopper." said yet another shape.

Then everything went black.


NOVEMBER 8th, 2006

When I regained consciousness I found myself in a small sparsely furnished room. There was a mat facing east on the floor, a book hanging from a surgical mask from the ceiling and bars on the windows.

I got up and looked out the window. Then I saw a sign:


Oh crap.


Anonymous said...

Great one!

Anonymous said...

could you provide said link to the poll that says most gay people are against gay marriage?