Monday, January 26, 2015

Betamax3000 on Harvey Keitel (a Bar Conversation)


So what is the deal with Harvey Keitel?


Hmmm?


So why not Robert DeNiro, then? I mean: Travis Bickle…


DeNiro is an actor; Keitel is a PRESENCE. 


I would say that Travis Bickle is a 'presence'…


Travis Bickle is a character: if Travis Bickle was a REAL person he'd be Keitel, not DeNiro.

(sips drink). 

Look: DeNiro has embarrassed himself, he has willingly become his own New York Hello Kitty cartoon, while Keitel obviously has no sense of embarrassment, ever.  Cigarette?

(step outside to smoke)

C'mon: walk around swinging his naked penis in a movie? No problem, does it all the time. Portray f**king Judas with a New York accent? Hell yes...

Strip him of all his worldly possessions and he would still be Keitel on the street-corner in a wife-beater T-shirt , daring you to make eye contact with him. 

(smokes)

Hell, he is the damned American Shroud of Turin, man, there's street-fight stigmata bleeding from his hands…


I think you're -- uh -- inflating the mythology a bit. He's still mortal...


If Keitel was mortal he would just be Willem Dafoe. My Keitel is the New Old Testament…


"New Old Testament?"


Old World in the New Times. Judas is the new Moses: it's all going to turn to salt soon enough...


________________________________


I am Laslo.

Saturday, January 24, 2015

Confessions of a New York Yankee Groupie.



Confessions of a New York Yankee Groupie.

"So after some Chinese Take-Out I let Derek Jeter do me in the ass and in the morning he gives me a fruit basket. I said "Derek, what the hell is this?"

He says "It's a gift of my appreciation to you."

So I say "A fucking fruit basket? Am I your fucking grandmother?" And he says "No, no, it is from the heart. Look: it has pear slices."

And I say "Pear slices? I give you a rim job for thirty minutes and you give me pear slices?"

"Well, what would be appropriate?" he asks, all trying to be caring and shit.

So I say: "Appropriate? Jewelry would be appropriate, you asshole."

And he says, all sincere-like, "Well, it was just one night..." and I say "One night with a rim job and anal sex, you dick."

So he says "Okay, okay, I don't do this for just anyone" and he opens a drawer and pulls out a gold chain with a gold baseball hanging from it, real Kay Jewellers-type stuff. And I say "You got to be kidding: a charm bracelet?" And he says "It's not good enough?" And I say "Maybe if I was TWELVE, you jerk."

So Jeter opens another drawer and pulls out a pearl necklace, and I'm like "I get it, I get it: a pearl necklace, how appropriate."

So he says "That's all I can do," like we're haggling over a car.

"Then I say "I'll take it," because it is actually a pretty nice necklace, and that is my lesson to you women out there: when you give up the anal sex you better hold out for jewelry: don't let yourself be cheap.

I am Laslo.




Laslo School of Shrew Taming.

Perhaps January Jones should Submit to the Laslo School of Shrew Taming.

She will learn not to judge her thinness by pounds but by understanding that a woman's perfect weight is that which best proportions her naked breasts. I will judge accordingly, without deviation.

She will come to understand that I do not care what she wears: knock yourself out. I will tell you when to be naked. In high heels.

She will come to appreciate that her every word is not to be taken seriously. Sometimes the importance of my blow-job overrides Your Great Insight. I may choose to listen later, between ejaculation and sleep.

She will be thankful for the realization that most of her female friends are idiots. This is not because they are jealous, usually, but because they are idiots. But sometimes they ARE jealous, too: this relates to the importance of the weight/breast-proportion lessons. 

She will come to understand that sometimes she is cute when she is angry. Getting angry about this only makes you cuter. Little Kitty Kat, are you Angry? Does Little Kitty Kat need a big bowl of milk? Note: 'Big Bowl of Milk' is generally a reference to blow-jobs. Of course. Naked, high heels. Of course, again.

She will learn the pleasure of self-satisfaction in making my coffee just the way I like it, and the consistency that comes with no deviations accepted. MY coffee is not YOUR creativity.

YOUR creativity is best expressed in blow-job technique. You can also play with lipstick colors. These may at times be connected.

I will support you fully in your submission to my will. You can tell your friends this is Zen.

I am Laslo.

http://althouse.blogspot.com/2015/01/uncreative-journalists-have-asked.html

Sunday, January 11, 2015

El Ombre Laslo.




Be said...
There is a difference between Submission and Degradation. I'd love to submit though not degrade me to El Ombre Laslo.

Oh my.

What can I say?

I am Laslo.

Saturday, January 10, 2015

"Suddenly! The Magazine for Premature Ejaculators"




Excerpt from "Suddenly! The Magazine for Premature Ejaculators":

We returned to my apartment after dinner, and she took off her black wool coat, showing off her amazing body in a red dress that fit her like the proverbial glove.

She brushed a lock of her lustrous hair from her cheek and asked if I minded if she 'got more comfortable.'

She took off her shoes, and -- suddenly -- I came.


Excerpt from "Suddenly! The Magazine for Premature Ejaculators":
Excerpt from "Suddenly! The Magazine for Premature Ejaculators":

After a long walk upon the beach we sat on a white-washed bench, watching the late-afternoon waves crash onto the shore.

The weather was starting to turn cool, and she snuggled up warmly against me and gently put a hand on my thigh. Suddenly, I came.


Excerpt from "Suddenly! The Magazine for Premature Ejaculators":

I was on the morning bus when she appeared, a striking figure of poise and allure, her black stockings accentuating her long, firm legs.

After paying her fare she passed by me on the way to the back of the bus, her red leather purse with the bronze clasp brushing my elbow. "Sorry," she said to me, and -- suddenly -- I came.




Excerpt from "Suddenly! The Magazine for Premature Ejaculators":

It was Christmas Eve when I first met my girlfriend's family.

Her father had a firm handshake as he invited me into their home, and her mother looked lovely, and amazingly young, as she reached in to give me a welcoming hug. Suddenly, I came.

And kept coming.

I had the most amazing, pulsing orgasm of my life, right against my girlfriend's mother's hip.

Quickly, I excused myself, claiming I forgot something in the car.

In the car I reached for the Kleenex in the glove compartment, thought of my girlfriend's mother dressed like a dirty whore, then came again.


I am Laslo.


"Ibn al-Kalb! The Jews have put a cucumber in my ass!"

It is sad that the magazine wasn't called "A Cucumber In Your Ass" because then all these people would be holding signs declaring "I Have a Cucumber in My Ass." I like that better.




The magazine "A Cucumber in Your Ass" would be thematically consistent: it would depict the week's newsmakers, always with a cucumber in their ass.

Putin with a cucumber in his ass: check.

Obama with a cucumber in his ass: check.

The Pope with a cucumber in his ass: check.

Mohammed with a cucumber in his ass: check, check and double-check.

Each week people would buy the new issue wondering who would have the cucumber in their ass now.

OK, maybe not a magazine but a website.




To keep "A Cucumber in Your Ass" from becoming too repetitive the size and the color and the nubbly-ness of the cucumber would change in response to the story.

Sometimes someone only gets a small, thin green cucumber, others get the yellow cucumber the size of a baby's arm.

Every few issues there would be the 'special edition' wherein someone particularly egregious gets the cucumber sideways. The 'sideways' cucumber is always depicted as extra nubbly.




The issue of "A Cucumber In Your Ass" with Scarlett Johannson would probably be the biggest-seller. That, or the one with Taylor Swift.

Just guessing.




Example word balloon: "Sacre bleu! I have a cucumber in my ass!"

Or:

"Gott im Himmel! The French have put a cucumber in my ass!"

and, of course:

"Ibn al-Kalb! The Jews have put a cucumber in my ass!"



Of course, there are only so many ways of depicting Putin putting a cucumber in Obama's ass: that is where Creativity comes in. "A Cucumber In Your Ass" will rely heavily on Creativity. And, of course, cucumbers.





Bob Boyd said...
You mean like say photoshopping a picture of the guy who jumped the White House Fence running across the lawn with a great big cucumber clenched in a raised fist?


"You mean like say photoshopping a picture of the guy who jumped the White House Fence running across the lawn with a great big cucumber clenched in a raised fist?"

You're hired!


Bob Boyd said...
"You're hired!"

My dream job just fell in my lap like a...like a...like a cucumber falling out of a miniskirt in a crowded theatre.

Thanks Laslo! I won't let you down.

Bob Boyd said...
Whatever you say Mr. Spatula sir, but if we could provoke radical Muslims to attack our headquarters or even just blow up the greenhouse it could really put us on the map is all I'm saying.

"...but if we could provoke radical Muslims to attack our headquarters or even just blow up the greenhouse it could really put us on the map is all I'm saying."

Mr. Boyd, besides being a Creative Wizard on the Editorial side you are also a Marketing Genius: with this kind of thinking soon the whole world will have a cucumber up its ass!
Bob Boyd said...
Like John Lennon I challenge all to Imagine.


I am Laslo.



Friday, January 9, 2015

Peas in a pod.

Lyric: Lennon or Manson?

"Cease to resist, come and say you love me
Give up your world, come on an' be with me"

"In the stair of breathing air.
Let him be, set him free
Let him be like you and me."

"Well, say, you're lookin' for a world of truth
Trying to find a better way
The time has come to see yourself
But you always look the other way"

"I'm scratching peace symbols in your tombstone
I'm scratching peace symbols in your mind"

"How can I go forward when I don't know which way I'm facing?
How can I go forward when I don't know which way to turn?
How can I go forward into something I'm not sure of?
Oh no, oh no"

"It's in, side
It's in the back
The front
No it's in the back
No it's in the front
No it's in the back"

"I had a little monkey
And I sent him to the country
And I fed him on gingerbread
Long come a choo-choo
And knocked my monkey cuckoo
And now my monkey's dead"

"Woman is the nigger of the world
Yes, she is, think about it
Woman is the nigger of the world
Think about it, do something about it"

"So bring only your perfection, for there love shall surely be.
No cold, pain, fear or hunger. You can see, you can see, you can see."

"I'll never say never to always. I'll never say always to none.
To seem is to dream a dream aloud cause one is one is one."

"'Now I'm lookin' right here, inside myself
I've got my eyes closed
I'm looking backward through my brain
Thinkin' about what I'm thinkin' about"


Peas in a pod.

I am Laslo.

http://althouse.blogspot.com/2015/01/im-sick-and-tired-of-hearing-thingsfrom.html

Thursday, January 8, 2015

Throat Worms.


Doctor: "So Woody, what seems to be the problem?"

Woody: "I have a real bad pain in the back of my throat..."

Doctor: "Okay, let me swab that and take a look..."

Woody: "What do you see, Doctor?

Doctor: "Oh my."

Woody: "What is the problem?"

Doctor: "Ummmmm. Woody. Have you eaten someone's excrement in the last half-month?"

Woody: "Hell no, doctor, do you think I'm some kind of freak?"

Doctor: "It's just that you have Esophageal Fecal-itis."

 Woody: "Esophageal Fecal-itis?"

Doctor: "You have ass-worms at the back of your throat."

Woody: "Oh God..."

Doctor: "I repeat: Have you eaten someone's excrement in the last half-month?"

Woody: "Well, I DID do an ATM scene in San Bernardino..."

Doctor: So: SOME kind of freak: noted..."

Woody: "It was in the script..."

Doctor: "It's Okay, we can solve this with some penicillin..."

Woody: "Really?"

Doctor: " Yes: it should reduce the swelling within seven-to-ten days."

Woody: "Thank God. And the ass worms?"

Doctor: I'm afraid that penicillin won't do anything about THAT."

Woody: "Oh God..."

Doctor: "Ass worms are meant to be in your ass: when they are in your throat they are up to seven-times-bigger --"

Woody: "--Nooooo--"

Doctor: "--and they are happy there. Whatever YOU eat, THEY eat."

Woody: "This can't be happening..."

Doctor: "It IS happening, Woody. Soon they will be eating into your brain, laying ass-worm babies..."

Woody: "NOOOOOO!"

Doctor: "Unless..."

Woody :Unless WHAT, doctor? Unless WHAT?"

Doctor: You can try to eat the shit of a young girl, and the ass-worms will find themselves drawn to THAT, and leave your throat."

Woody: "Can that work, Doctor?"

Doctor: "I have no idea: I'm making this up as you go along."

Woody: "I'm doomed, aren't I?"

Doctor: "Just give it some time: they'll work their way to your intestines and be excreted."

Woody: "I'm going to be Okay?

Doctor: "In your profession I think I will be seeing you again..."


I am Laslo.