Aging and My 70 Year Plan!

Ima Ghost

Haha! I hope my own family shells out $3,000 for my hilarious headstone! “Here Lies Grumpy” lol lol

If you’ve read my diatribe about dying and the heat death of the universe, then you already know how petrifying I find the end of my own existence, as well as all of existence in the entire universe for that matter. That subject is old hat! While this extremely nagging notion plagues my daily life to this moment and beyond, let’s take a step back from the “me dying” and the “universe dying” part of things. Let’s talk about aging instead. You know, the process that leads up to the “me dying” part of things. Whoops, there I go again!

Right now, I’m 35 years old. That means 5 years ago I was still trying to not look like a kidnapper while I carted my then one-year-old in a stroller. That means 10 years ago I was fumbling through my newest career trying not to get fired. That means 15 years ago I was in the middle of sleeping during physics classes during college. That means 20 years ago I was trying very hard to be invisible to every single person walking through the hallways of my high school. That means 25 years ago I was playing a hell of a lot of Crash Bandicoot and Pokémon Red. That means 30 years ago I was blissfully unaware that my parents allowed me to walk around in public with a mullet long after it was fashionable for even the trashiest of trailer park dwellers.

That means 35 years ago I was some drooling little blob. And, if I’m extremely lucky, 50 years from now I’ll also some drooling little blob. We come full circle on life, and it’s disconcerting. It’s one of life’s biggest jokes, the whole deterioration one undergoes physically and mentally as they ever so slowly creep up in age. You aren’t able to lift boxes anymore. Crossword puzzles become significantly harder. Friends and family find you annoying to be around. Liver spots. Stories about shopping at Home Depot. Posting comments on newspaper comic strip websites. Bones crumbling into so many piles of ugly dust.

Certainly, there are lifestyle choices to consider as you get older. You can’t eat four pounds of pie anymore like you could during your fond college pie eating contest days. You can’t run three marathons in one day anymore like you could after getting inspired by Forrest Gump back in 1993. You should cut back to two bottles of pure malt whiskey per night if you don’t want to succumb to pesky alcoholism. I personally don’t eat pie or run marathons or drink alcohol, so I’m already in tip-top shape and ready to take on aging with gusto! Here’s my 70-year plan!

Age 45

By the time I’m 45, I want to have had climbed the career ladder so high that I can kick God in the face. I hope to be making nine figures per year sitting at a mahogany-chrome desk practicing the Vulcan hand gesture. I want to come home to my lovely wife and my awful teenage children, who I will hide from deftly by taking the secret staircase down to the MAN CAVE (a 12′ x 8′ bathroom with a broken toilet and a handheld TV). My blog will be flourishing, getting upwards of fourteen hits per day from people who want to read about my theories on Batman’s incontinence.

By 45, I hope to be in excellent shape. I want to be able to lift bags of potatoes into the house so that I can finally feed my family. I want to be able to run 75 miles to the grocery store without so much as puffing. I want my pecs to be enormous and my glutes, too, to be enormous. I want to be able to lift my petulant 16-year-old child and dunk her head in the toilet repeatedly if she keeps bringing home B- grades. I want — no, need — to be able to beat up Charles Atlas. That’ll teach him to send out bodybuilding pamphlets. What do you mean he’s dead? That won’t stop me. I’ll beat up his bones.

Charles Atlas

Charles Atlas, I will kick your puny little dead butt.

Age 55

By the time I’m 55, I want to have had retired early after making billions inventing condoms that change colors depending upon the temperature of the dick and/or vagina. I want to be able to spend my summers vomiting from seasickness while on my 4,000ft yacht and laughing at all those who dare swim in my line of fire. I want to have also invented time travel, but I’ll keep that one to myself. I will want to go back in time and kill Ronald Reagan an infinite number of hilarious ways. I want to meet the guy who first swam the English Channel and slap him silly. I want to wrangle a dinosaur. I want to take a dump on Pangaea.

Age 65

Bored with retirement, I will have become a professional ice cream taste tester for Ben & Jerry’s. I will develop and approve new fantastic flavors such as “Benito Mousse-olini” and “Sex Dynamite”. I will win the Nobel Peace Prize for Outstanding Achievement in the Field of Excellence with respect to my world renowned iced cream delights. Statues will have been erected in my image from Vilnius, Lithuania to Tam Điệp, Vietnam. People will respect me. Children will worship me. Babies will revere me. Dogs and cats will bow to my benevolence. All hamsters will have been executed under Decree S67-54 under TomWritesAboutStuff-ist law. Finally, I will have been triumphant in my war against hamsters.

Age 75

Bored with godhood, I’ll buy all the old Nintendo 3DS games that I never got around to playing and maybe finally finish Steven Erikson’s Malazan series, a task that will require 300 hours per day of free time and a three-mile long chart of characters and their titles, relationships, abilities, hobbies, and shoe sizes.

Age 85

Having given up on the Malazan series out of sheer frustration, I will have ordered my minions to dig up Steven Erikson’s bones so I can beat up his bones. Everyone’s bones will be dug up! I will punch everyone’s bones! It’s a good thing that, in the year 2073, arthritis and degenerative bone disease will be a thing of the past! Scientists will have had discovered a series of 47 shots that will render bones stronger and more resilient than titanium alloy. And not that commercially pure titanium alloy shit. My knuckle bones will be able to withstand punching other knuckle bones. I’ll be able to die a happy man.

Shriveled Alien

Grandpa! You look terrible!

Age 95

Oh, we’re not done yet. I’ll still be alive in 2083 with barely any of my faculties left. My great-grandchildren will have shackled me to a wheelchair and towed my ass to an out-of-state nursing home from the back of their car. One car for 17 great-grandchildren.

Nursing homes in 2083 will be exactly the same as nursing homes in 2023, as they are currently exactly the same as nursing homes in 1910. The only difference is that Bingo will actually be Futuristic Bingo, which is exactly like Bingo except all the numbers will be painted on a boxful of rats. You get points for each rat that runs up your pant leg and burrows into your diaper.

I expect to be running the nursing home, using my wry wit and charm and my dementia-pickled brain to schmooze the staff into giving me as much Ben & Jerry’s ice cream as I want. Also, just fill my withered ears with plenty of Frank Zappa, Ghostface Killah and grindcore and I’ll be a happy, drooling old dingbat.

Gimme some of that nursing home pussy, too. That’s the good stuff.

Age 105

I’ll certainly be dead by 2093, but in the off chance that I’m hanging on by a frayed thread, I’m going to dictate a request to the nursing home staff to load me up with enough morphine to kill a herd of elephants and then crack me in the fucking head with a baseball bat.

Barring that, maybe by then they’ll have technology to transfer my consciousness to an indestructible robot so I can live an eternity of hell on Earth, scrambling madly for anything that will cause death. Anything at all would be bliss. Launch me into the center of the sun, for the love of God. I want to die. I just want to die!

Conclusions

Wasn’t that fun, kids? I sure had fun! Here’s to a long life to me and a much shorter life to you! I kid, I kid!

But seriously, don’t steal my living thunder.


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The Great Hunt (Book 2) – Chapter 25: “Cairhien”

The Wheel of Time - Book 2 - The Great Hunt

CAPTAIN CALDEVWIN’S SECOND-IN-COMMAND + THEIR ARMY ESCORTS RAND AND HIS BUDDIES TO CAIRHIEN. SORRY, MY CAPS LOCK IS ON, LET ME JUST TURN THat off. There we go.

There’s a place called the Foregate, which is just outside of the city, where all the Aiel War refugees live. There are parades and celebrations for no reason other than it’s, like, a Tuesday. Rand likes the Foregate so much that he asks if there’s an inn there to stay at, but the soldiers are SHOCKED AT WHAT THEY HEAR, AND, OH NO, MY CAPS LOCK IS STUCK AGAIN. Apparently, if Lord Rand wants to stay in some seedy part of town like the Foregate, everyone will be suspicious. Se, begrudgingly, he accepts a stay at an inn within the city: The Defender of the Dragonwall.

Rand thinks this inn smells like poop and he wants to return to the Foregate forthwith. Loial doesn’t want to go because he doesn’t want to bump into other Ogier (since he’s near the stedding where he was exiled). Hurin doesn’t want to go because the Foregate can be rather dangerous and he’s a pussy.

Down in the common room, Rand is presented with three sealed envelopes — invitations from noble Houses! Rand does not want to play the Game of Houses, so he declines ALL the invitations! Hurin tells him he needs to play the Game or else suspicions will arise, which Rand is like “I DON’T GIVE A FUCK AND I WILL CAPS LOCK ABOUT IT ALL DAMN DAY IF I HAVE TO”.

Rand takes his leave to the Foregate, and while wandering around he hears a voice emanating from a tavern that sounds familiar. He enters and is beside himself to see Thom “Gleeman Jones Smith-Jones” Merrilin regaling the clientele with gleeman tales like “The Stinking Thorns of Caladan” and “The Birds and the Bees”. Thom is also beside himself to see Rand.

They talk over eggnog. Thom didn’t die, as it turns out, because the Fade didn’t actually give two shits about Thom. It was after Rand and Mat. Oh well, we can laugh about it now! Anyway, meet the Wheel of Time’s favorite child molester at the inn he’s staying at — The Bunch of Grapes — and he’ll get all touchy-feely with you later.


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Batman: Legends of the Dark Knight (Vol. 1), Issue #18 – “Venom (Part 3)”

* Part 3 of 5 of the Venom storyline *

Welcome to Loneliness & Cheeseburgers Presents: Batman: Legends of the Dark Knight (Vol. 1), Issue #18 – “Venom (Part 3)”! In the previous installment, Bruce Wayne is all hopped up on pills like Aaron Sorkin writing fourteen episodes of The West Wing in one evening. His dealer, Dr. Randolph Porter, is keeping him hooked as an experiment. One day, the streets will be positively littered with coked-up strong-ass Batman clones who will rid the world of, like, homeless people and skateboarders.

Problem is, that pesky Captain Jim Gordon is starting to meddle. So kill his ass for us, Batman. Can you do that for us?

And Batman is like “ok”.

Let’s go see Batman kill Jim Gordon. Makes me wish it was Congressman Jim Jordan, but we can’t have everything.

Batman: Legends of the Dark Knight (Vol. 1), Issue #18 [May, 1991]
Written by: Dennis O’Neil
“Venom (Part 3)”

Batman: Legends of the Dark Knight (Vol. 1), Issue #18

Bruce Wayne lookin’ like Grizzly Adams, pills falling all over the floor, Batsuit smelling like feces and failure. And pee. Let’s see this guy spiral downward even further!

“No sweat. I’ll kill him. I’ll bring you his head on a platter with an apple in his mouth.”

Could these be his words? Could he mean them?

Batman’s going to take care of this before the morning sun. Before anyone can say “boo” like a scary nighttime ghost! Boo! Heh heh! Booooo.

So now that we’ve all agreed to murder a police officer, let’s have those tasty, tasty pills! “I don’t have any ready,” Dr. Randolph Hitler tells him. “Perhaps when you’re done with Gordon–”

General Mustache Face wants to make it clear to the Batmurderer that he’s not going to commit murder here! Oh no no no, this is “justifiable homicide”. We can’t afford to have weak-ass men in his position. The city is going to Helena Handbasket, and she’s a real bitch. Can’t have that. Plus, he’s getting in the way of progress and whatnot. Stab him in the face with an icepick or something. Choke his ass with your utility belt. Do something useful for once in you damn life, idiot.

Batman frowns and leaves. It’s about 4am, perfect time to murder people in their sleep Phil Hartman-style. Except that Gordon guy is walking his dog right now. He puffs his pipe arrogantly like the arrogant jerk that he is! He deserves to die!

Batman: Legends of the Dark Knight (Vol. 1), Issue #18

D’oh! Not today, please! D’oh! D’oh d’oh d’oh!

Batman leaps from the trees conspicuously, to say the the least. And the most. “I’ve come to kill you… I mean… I’ve been sent to kill you, and when I don’t, they’ll send someone else.”

Gordon frowns, inconvenienced. “What the devil are you talking about?” Heh. What the devil. Jim Gordon is British today.

It’s Randolph Porter and the other guy. The man! He’s… he wears a hat… General Slaycroft! They want to kill you for reasons. Gordon grabs Batman’s shoulders gently and asks if he’s all right. Batman is all like “whhhhrrrrrr”. Then he grabs Gordon’s coat and tells him to kill these two in the morning if Batman doesn’t first! Rawr!

Later, in Slaycroft’s crappy colonial house, you’ve got Porter stuffing papers into a crappy briefcase while Slaycroft’s crappy son sits despondent in an armchair. These guys are in hot water! Gordon knows that the men that were killed and shot and killed served under Slaycroft. He will have likely told other people. It’s only a matter of time now before he figures out that Slaycroft’s favorite ice cream is Cherry Garcia, then it’s all over. Their only hope now is to have Batman’s addled ass squash that fucker.

Speaking of Batman killing Gordon, the devil himself has arrived at Slaycroft’s house to not kill Gordon at all! “You’re going nowhere. Except to police headquarters, where you will make a full confession to Captain James Gordon or District Attorney Harvey Dent.”

WHOA WHOA WHOOAHAO. Slow your roll bro, that’s a lot of names to remember! Hold it, no one’s going to the police HQ? That’s ninny nonsense, sir. Here’s what will happen instead: Slaycroft and his posse will leave, and–

WAP SMACK CHOONT FLUNTZ!! Batman knocks Slaycroft’s dick in the dirt and then throws Porter over a car, where he lands hella on the pavement. Miraculously not dead! He gets crabbed by the collar and lifted up. “YOU ARE GOING DOWNTOWN!” Batman screams in Porter’s fucking face.

Batman: Legends of the Dark Knight (Vol. 1), Issue #18

THAT JEFF DUNHAM IS HILARIOUS! I CAN’T GET HIM OUT OF MY HEAD!

Porter is like “uhhh nooooo I’ve got pills, idiot” and then he waves a bag in Batman’s face. Then throws the bag to the side, where Batman all but leaps after them. While Batman is distracted by horrible, uncool drugs, the three start moving out. There’s a plane to catch… although Porter dropped all his documents from his briefcase on the ground, but there’s no time to collect them anyway! Batman can’t even see paper while he’s munching on pills, it’ll be ok. They’ll be there on the ground when they get back!

Batman is overjoyed when he finds the pills, but then realizes right away that pills aren’t the answer! He dumps the pills and maintains a steady stream of good ol’ self-loathing…

So who better to talk to about boosting self-esteem than snarky-ass Alfred?? Batman calls him up in his run-down Gotham City high rise apartment. Now this is funny: Batman, still in full uniform, looks like dogshit in a phone booth. He stammers like a smelly junkie! “Need your help. Need your help. Know you’re mad at me. But got no one else. Want you to lock me in the Cave. Don’t let me out for a month. No matter what.”

No food or water, sir. Loud and clear. Feces dropping everywhere. Sounds like a plan. “Meet me at the mansion in half hour,” he cries, continuing to forget key words in his sentences. “Please.”

Now Alfred looks positively feverish with worry! “I shall be there.” No contractions for Alfred! Speaks like a professional, unlike that dumbass Batman.

Batman: Legends of the Dark Knight (Vol. 1), Issue #18

I’ll rip up your butler diploma so fast it’ll make your head spin.

Into the cave he goes. All the other exits have been bricked off. He’s got enough cans of beans to survive a whole winter, let alone a puny month. Alfred suggests a doctor or, you know, a less insane plan. Bruce just scowls at him. Doctors are idiots. Fingers up the butt? Sounds like a sexual predator to me! Sighing, Alfred closes up the Cave and starts raiding Bruce’s fridge.

Slaycroft’s son – I don’t know his name, so I’m just gonna call him Chet Beefcake – asks where their plane is headed. Slaycroft angrily tells him to zip the lip. Well, if you must know Chet Beefcake, they’re going to Santa Prisca to lay low for a couple of years! I hope you brought your yo-yo. Then, after half a decade, they’ll return to Gotham to finish their business! Airtight long game, here.

At Police HQ, an officer reports to Gordon that Porter’s house is clean of any evidence or Bad Guy Clues. Gordon instructs him to check the airlines. Maybe they went to Santa Prisca to lay low for a couple of years! Meanwhile, I want to see Bruce go nuts in a hole in the ground, but I don’t get to see that yet. That sounds infinitely more interesting.

The three villains make themselves at home in some Santa Prisca cabana. Chet Beefcake hits on a local pretty girl by telling her EVERYTHING about Dr. Porter and his pops. Chet’s name is Timothy. I don’t like that name. The girl is Consuela. That’s more like it.

She basically slobbers his bone before he walks away.

Batman: Legends of the Dark Knight (Vol. 1), Issue #18

♬♫♪ It’s been one week since you looked at me / Cocked your head to the side and said, “I’m angry”. ♬♫♪ ♬♫♪

Alfred, meanwhile, grows concerned that his master is being an idiot in a cave. It has been 10 days and counting. Alfred listens through the intercom system and hears nothing but jerking off and grunting. He does not say a word. He leaves his master to his important detox ritual. Then checks back again. Every six minutes or so. Maybe this guy cares about Bruce Wayne for reasons that are not obvious to me whatsoever.

In Santa Prisca, Timothy can’t even lift 100 pounds! So Porter is going to inject him with pill juice. The kid continues to flirt with Consuela and bond over their dead mothers! Then they kiss. Porter and Slaycroft are able to see this very public display of affection, and Slaycroft is relieved. This part is actually in the comic: “About time. I was beginning to think the whelp was a… you know. Sissy.”

Slaycrofts hopes that she doesn’t give him a sexually transmitted infection! These latinas a filthy creatures! Porter thinks Consuela might be useful…

Milestone! Twenty days in the hole. That’s an Xbox achievement.

Timothy is able to lift 150 pounds now! Atta boy! Surgery will be next, that’ll be fun. They’re going to stick a second appendix in him, one that’s made of drugs! I hope. Porter and Slaycroft talk openly in front of Timothy like he’s a lab rat. The kid walks away sad.

“Will he survive?”

“Does it matter?”

Alfred finally says something into the intercom. “It’s been more than three weeks…”

“I said a month.” And that’s that!

Batman: Legends of the Dark Knight (Vol. 1), Issue #18

My dick-sucking robot is finally working! I removed the teeth! That was a really dumb idea in the first place, huh?

Timothy isn’t able to hold Consuela softly anymore. He looks monkey-browed and stupider than usual. Then he has a great idea to try hurting her for no reason! Then he gets called over by Porter to pull him away. Consuela doesn’t want to see Timothy anymore, but Porter promises that he will see her again…

Thirty days in the brig. Alfred is like “come out dear” and Bruce is like “NO, RAAAGGGHH, TOMORROW!” and that’s that!

Alfred wears pinstripe pants. This is important to point out.

Timothy is wrapped up like a mummy. “The moment has come for the grand unveiling. Are you ready, Timothy?” And, yes, Timothy was fucking born be ready, son!

The unveiling reveals Timothy. It’s just Timothy. Timothy covered in stitches and surgical scars. General Slaycroft raises a gun and shoots the shit out of his kid’s chest, but the bullets bounce right off of him. Like Superman, and just as intelligent! Timothy “Chet Beefcake” Slaycroft didn’t even feel any dang pain. The experiment is a success! Now there’s–

OK, hold on, Porter just jammed some scissors into the kid’s arm. Fine. I guess more tests are necessary here. “The alterations to your nervous system make pain an impossibility,” Porter says fiendishly.

Back to Alfred, who has been spending many minutes watching the grandfather clock like some kid on Christmas, waiting for his master’s insane month of solitude wind down. When it is time, he opens the door to the Batcave where a feral, shadowed dingus begins ascending the staircase. His pants are all ripped up and he needs a shave. Hair and beards don’t grow that much in a month, so Brucey must’ve taken a swim in some Minoxidil.

Batman: Legends of the Dark Knight (Vol. 1), Issue #18

Nice mountain man look there, Grizzly Adams. Totally “badass”.

Alfred offers to help, but Bruce looks like he’s about to break down crying and insists he’s all right. No matter, the bald butler is just thrilled to see him again! He suggests an evening of television! Or, perhaps some steak and potatoes with–

No, certainly not. Bruce is going to go out and be Batman immediately, probably. He’s going to take a long shower and do some tender jerkin’ first, though. Maybe see the sun, I guess. If I were in a cave for a month I’d probably be ok not seeing the sun for a little while longer.

But enough about me, let’s get back to Santa Prisca where Timothy is manhandling the lovely Consuela. General Slaycroft orders the lad to kill her, which seems unnecessarily mean and weird. Timothy lifts her up by the neck and slams her head against the wall, cracking her head open. Seems unnecessarily mean and weird.

“What do you think, General?” Porter smiles.

“Well done. If we can make that weakling a man, we can do it to anyone.” General Slaycroft is a mean dude. I hope he gets his comeuppance, boy howdy.

The issue ends with Bruce donning his Batman garb. He’s going to go after Porter and Slaycroft since they’re just the woooooorrrrsssst. End scene.

Final Thoughts

These early ‘90s Batman comics are pretty grim. If this was an issue of the New 52, Batman would be frolicking in the meadow while giraffes blow rainbows up his tight little butthole.


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The X-Files – Season 1, Episode 9 – “Space”

The X-Files

“When a space shuttle mission is aborted, Mulder suspects it may the the work of an evil extraterrestrial spirit that inhabits the body of a former Gemini astronaut.“

Mulder and Scully took pieces of paper and wrote down their first 1,000 theories as to why a space shuttle mission was aborted. Mulder’s suspicion above was #1, just above “evil extraterrestrial spirit infiltrated the gas tank” and “evil extraterrestrial spirit sheared a critical landing pod bolt”. Scully’s #1,000 was “all of mission command had to use the bathroom”. Mulder’s #1,000 was “all of mission command had to use the bathroom ’cause of aliens”.

Let’s crack into this tall, cold bad boy! IT’s 1977, and a NASA space launch is counting down in Pasadena, California. They’re gonna check for water on Mars, and also there’s a big alien face in the rocks. Lieutenant Colonel “Terrible Name” Aurelius Belt speaks to reporters about it being just a trick of the sun’s shadows, but later in he’s tossing and turning in his bed, plagued by visions of this decidedly not-scary face on Mars. He has flashbacks of his own astronauting days, which weren’t some his best memories, I’ll tell you that much. The face suddenly shows up in his ceiling above! It comes out of the ceiling and spooks him a bit! Boo! He sweats like seven whores in six churches.

He’s so scared that his dimpled chin might undimple itself.

15 years later, Belt commands another space launch that gets aborted three seconds before lift-off. Against all logic and reasonable thought processes, the FBI need to get involved with this. A woman named Michelle, who works at NASA Mission Control, meets outside the Pentagon steps to speak with Mulder/Scully. She suspects a SABOTEUR! When Mulder asks if she has evidence, Michelle goes “I dunno”.

Michelle presents X-Ray photos of a space shuttle component that has been scorched by extreme temperatures. Impossible to do by human hands, even really, really hot human hands. How can something be sabotaged with extreme heat like this if a person cannot be involved? These are the questions, aren’t they? And all answers point to, everyone say it with me now: ALIENS! Oh boy!

When Scully asks why anyone would want to sabotage a space shuttle, Mulder gives three very reasonable answers that have nothing to do with aliens whatsoever: 1) terrorists, 2) disgruntled workers, 3) people who think the old dinosaur space shuttle is unsafe and should’ve been scrapped a decade ago, and some of these people could be within the government body itself.

Also, 4) aliens. To which Scully delivers a deadpan “oh, of course.”

It’s very simple, Scully: the space shuttle is in space, the aliens are in space. The common thread here can be found with a shrewd eye.

First stop! Scully and Mulder visit Colonel “Wraps His Neck with a” Belt, a man who Mulder revered when he was a kid. Scully shows Belt the X-Ray of the failed component, and Belt gets weird and cross about any HINT of an accusation. These fine people wake up every morning, eat their Golden Grahams, and come to work at the Great American NASA Mission Control without even a drop of bad blood coursing through their veins! How dare you? There is NOTHING that could possibly go wrong with the mission! Away with you.

“Sir, would you consider postponing the shuttle flight until a full investigation could be conducted?”
*huff* “Look, I don’t know where you got this specious artifact, but I can assure you every precaution has been taken to rectify the problem.”

Now get out of my office before reenact the Challenger disaster up your butthole.

Belt is awfully adamant that everything will be fine, so Mulder and Scully agree to merely be present during lift-off. The two head to the material analysis lab, where a head scientist claims that the failed component issue wasn’t brought to his attention. He was too busy repairing critical landing pod bolts compromised by extraterrestrial spirits! Mulder gives him a kiss and they leave with extra Colonel Belt suspicion, as well as doubts that the failed component problem may be a hoax.

Mission Command is bustling place! The launch gets set up, Mulder smiles while trying to contain his erection. Countdown begins… we have lift-off. The whole room celebrates a successful launch! Erection is definitely not contained.

Later in the hotel lobby, Michelle runs toward the FBI agents claiming that something isn’t right with the shuttle. All the flame decals fell off of the sides! Also, some rocket boosters are malfunctioning! Sabotage! So they pile into their car and follow Michelle to Mission Control. En route, Michelle sees a big scary spooky Mars face advance toward her windshield, which causes her spin off the road and flip her car upside down. She’s barely scratched up. Scully gives her a popsicle and they keep heading their way to Mission Control.

Hmm, I’m not sure space shuttles are supposed to explode in a million fiery little pieces like that…

Mulder mansplains to Scully that the boosters will rotate the shuttle’s critical components away from the sun. If it stays in the sun, scorchy scorchy. It’s almost as if the booster controls are being overridden! Mulder and Scully remove their guns and look around the offices for a saboteur so they can pop caps up his tender butthole. Mulder orders a full closure of the facilities. No one enters, no one leaves, you know the drill.

Mission Control turns the shuttle into fly-by-wire mode, putting the shuttle pilots in control. Then they cut off contact with the ship and bury their hands in the faces for any new ideas. I personally suggest sending a big scary face over to the shuttle to scare the OTHER big scary face into stopping the sabotaging! Then they try getting back in touch with the shuttle, but after a minute of contrived suspenseful silence, the crew reports that all is well. LET’S UNCORK THE CHAMPAGNE, WE’RE ALL WINNERS TODAY.

Colonel “I’m Gonna Whip You With My” Belt washes his face in the bathroom and then stares at his reflection like it’s going to come out of the mirror and bite him.

Later, Belt gives a press conference where he lies about the troubles the mission has been going through. Mulder makes a face like Belt’s reflection is going to come out of the mirror and suck his penis. When Mulder confronts him later about all the deceit, Belt says that he doesn’t want any fuckups on the front page. NASA only gets press if they screw up, and never if they do well. This country these days is in the shitter and we all blame William Jefferson Hilary Clinton Jr. Biden. Mulder asks Belt to be honest about his feelings regarding possible sabotage. Belt dodges the notion.

I’m gonna give you to the count of one to avoid smooching my beautiful mouth. I mean… to be honest with your feelings regarding possible sabotage.

Belt’s getting ready for bed now, which will assuredly result in more scary-face action. He has more flashbacks of his trip in space when he had a sucky time, and while he writhes sweatily in his bed, the scary face fills his own face and it seems to be a possession trying to escape Belt’s ugly body. And it does. And it flies away…

The next day at Mission Control, MORE problems surface. Now there’s a goddamned oxygen leak, which is exactly what happened to Colonel “I’m Gonna Jerk Off While I Choke Myself with My” Belt when he was in space. Scully and Mulder offer to go find the missing Belt so that he can help walk the astronauts through the situation, but he appears to be hungover in his hotel room, possibly induced by some of that good, good autoerotic asphyxiation! It’s all coming together, isn’t it?

Anyway, they wrangle the disheveled Belt into Mission Control and he huffs and puffs his way through the explanation. Part of his instructions involve delivering the payload anyway — even if that’s cuckoo nutso because the mission is obviously going horribly — but a failed mission means slashed funding for the space program. The crew don’t sound too thrilled, but they continue.

Scully and Mulder spend some time research for evidence that Belt is aware of sabotage, either with this mission or previous missions, and they discover that this nimrod has a role in the Challenger disaster for approving faulty equipment with knowledge of the defects. The payload is successfully delivered, but one of the crew members is like “THERE’S SOME KIND OF GHOST OUTSIDE THE SHIP!”, which causes Belt to start howlin’ and cryin’. Scully and Mulder find him blubbering in his office about the ghost tearing him apart.

NOOOO! THEY CANCELLED DR. PHIL! WAAAH!!

Scully wants to dope Belt up with muscle relaxers, but Mulder needs him to start yapping about how to save those astronauts. He gets a confession out of Belt that he damaged the spacecraft, but he couldn’t help himself. He has been possessed by space ghosts! Coast to coast! Then there’s more awful CGI showing Belt’s face morphing into Ghostface. And not the rapping Ghostface.

Michelle orders the crew to return the spacecraft to Earth, even though at their current trajectory will burn up the craft per Belt. They need to change the trajectory to Albuquerque for atmosphere reasons. The crew has sixteen minutes of oxygen left before the die of not-enough-oxygenitis. This is the suspenseful part again, but I’m not too invested in the shuttle crew! I, in fact, hope they eat the curb.

They don’t die, though, but they do want to eat something in Albuquerque on account of hunger, you see.

Michelle gives the press conference announcing the success of the mission without incident. They look forward to their next government-funded mission, which hopefully will not involve space ghosts and other creepy crawlies. Meanwhile, Belt is have a fit in his hospital bed struggling with his personal ghost possession. He can’t take it anymore and jumps through the window, plunging to his death.

Nothing wrong with a little bit of ghost possession. Frankly, I can see an upside to it!

Scully tells Mulder that the doctor had diagnosed Belt with severe dementia. Mulder knows something possessed him in space! He’s tired of Scully’s lack of logic.

Colonel Belt has a funeral. Everyone is sort of sad. The camera shows a close-up of the stars on the draped American flag, symbolizing, you know… I don’t know exactly. I guess wherever you find stars.

Next Time on the X-Files

Season 1, Episode 10 — “Fallen Angel”
Mulder asks a woman if it hurt when she fell from heaven.


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The Great Hunt (Book 2) – Chapter 24: “New Friends and Old Enemies”

The Wheel of Time - Book 2 - The Great Hunt

We shift gears toward Egwene, who is getting settled in as a novice Aes Sedai in some sort of Hogwarts dormitory. She meets her new roommate Hermione Magoo, aka Elayne the Daughter-Heir of Andor who is training as a novice like every other hick like Egwene. No special treatment just because she’s the daughter of a goddamned Queen! Aes Sedai don’t play that.

Egwene doesn’t pick up on Elayne’s Daughter-Heiriness until she is asked if she knows Rand. Egwene is surprised to hear that Rand was telling the truth about bumping into the Royal Children and even gets a little jealous about Elayne’s possible — but unlikely because Rand smells — romantic interest.

Egwene and Elayne bond readily. Elayne presents her theory that the Red Ajah are trying to remove the ability to channel the One Power entirely from mankind by gentling the male Aes Sedai. When Elayne mentions that Elaida, the Royal Aes Sedai, is upset that Rand left Caemlyn, Egwene gets uncomfortable and suspicious that the Aes Sedai are all after Rand for some reason.

Egwene then meets Else, a farmgirl whom Rand bumped into back in the day while they were travelling and gleemanning for their livelihood.

Egwene then meets Min, that boyish girl who can see the future sort of whom Rand bumped into back in the day Baerlon. At this point Egwene is starting to get annoyed that every young woman in the world has met Rand. Egwene recognizes Min and asks her what she’s doing here in Tar Valon. She replies that she wasn’t given a choice.

Gawyn and Galad pop in all shirtless and sexy-like. Gawyn (terrible name) is Elayne’s sister. Galad is, like, a half-brother or something. Egwene wants to bone Galad and I’m sure he’d be GUH-LAD about it! Get it? GET IT? Fuck you.

Galad asks Egwene out, basically, and she accepts. Gawyn, having also met Rand, asks if he is really from the Two Rivers (since he has the striking butt chin, miserable cleft palate, and clubfoot of an Aiel). Egwene is like, yeah, duh, she knew him since he was this tall (puts hand near vagina). Gawyn gets all hazy and weird, talks about how he’s met a lot of people who have met Rand. Like he’s woven into the pattern all ta’veren-style.

Elaida approaches the group and chastises Elayne for speaking out of turn. Elayne gets no special treatment; off to detention with you where you can write “I WILL HELP ELAIDA FIND RAND AL-THOR” one million times on the blackboard. The girls all claim they don’t know Rand, and hopefully Elaida believes the lie. Min also wonders privately why Moiraine had summoned her to Tar Valon, what she’s going to do there, and when she’ll be back to let her leave.

Speaking of leaving, I’m leaving too. Bye.


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