…And Then Things Got Weird….


June 2019

The Love Muscle – Rubio invents Crap Music

Rubio’s Plan “E” – CRAP MUSIC

Sappy themes + Country lyrics + Loud thumping + Repetitive bass + Shallow disco string arrangements + Droning “New World” music + Excessive blues riff melodies passing for pop + Excessive production. Rubio would introduce “Crap Music” to the world at Johnny Passion’s comeback concert in Vegas.

Note: Crap (Country-Rap) Music: (Wikipediatrics) Crap music (Country-Rap) was first introduced by an obscure Hollywood duo known as “Short and Curly (later The Pubes)” in the 1980s.

* * * *

Rubio had spent the last ten days breaking into homes and cars, while replacing random victim’s music collections with his own cassettes and leisure wear.

Today, he was behind the wheel of his stolen car-of-the-day. The pounding bass blasting from his car windows had made the synapses in his brain misfired in perfect arrhythmia. Just snapping away like electrical Rice Krispies, whenever he commandeered worn out, stolen cars around the worst sections of LA.

The twitches, flashes, and random sparks bouncing about in Rubio’s fried brain had always been his most deadly adversaries. If only he could piece his thoughts together. Just another hit on the pipe possibly, might help him to accomplish his mission. “Woo Hoo!” Rubio blasted from his big ugly ass face.

* * * *

Later, in a run-down motel in south Los Angeles…

The God of Sleaze, was preparing to go to Johnny’s big opening in Vegas.

“It’s my turn to reject you, Cheri!” he screamed into the smoggy air that he loved. “I’m taking my new girl to Vegas to show you a real woman! Felayshia! She’s makin’ a baby Rubio right now! Felayshia will give me an army of Rubios! It’s about time that you got a fucking education, you Ho!”

He loaded and locked the CD full of “ammo,” the same music mix that he had employed during his “Dance Mucus Show” and then carefully picked up his new CD loaded with his newest Crap Music and tossed it into his new black duffle bag. The bag was already stuffed with loaded pistols and drug paraphernalia. Anthony Rubio, the “new-man-in-town” could lift the bag with ease. The pistols in the bag came in all shapes and sizes. No pain [inflicted on others], he thought, no gain.

Yes, he wanted to inflict a whole shit-load of pain, so he added a couple of his favorite road-rage weapons the Stanley “Fu Bar” and The Tool-man “Equalizer.” Both were nasty medieval looking crowbars.

Rubio’s day of reckoning was upon us all. (Shiver, shiver.)

“C’mon everybody put on your dancin‘ shoes!” Rubio yelled to the low riding cruisers slinking along Whittier Boulevard, as he departed his swingin’ apartment for the last time.

* * * *

The Goddess was unaware of Rubio’s new Crap until it was too late.

* * * *

Don’t Forget Your Momma

The “God of Sleaze,” Rubio, was making great progress on his drive from Los Angeles to Las Vegas. He’d only been on the road for six hours, traveling at an average speed of twelve-miles-per-hour, then eighty-five-miles-per-hour, then fifteen-miles-per-hour, then napping, then seventy-miles-per-hour.

He had just pulled over on the side of the road off of I-15 next to a town called Roach to refuel. As he loaded up his crack pipe, a Nevada State Highway Patrol car pulled up behind him, with a very cool light show.

Rubio, who was coughing, dropped his pipe as smoke barreled out of his driver side window.

The trooper walked toward the stolen car’s driver-side door, and asked the ugliest man (Is he mooning me,?) he’d ever seen for his license and registration.

“Let me see your… Holy Lord Jesus!” ‘It’ smelled like ass and pot. “What the cough! cough! … Thank you verrry much.” Highway Patrol Officer Lavelle looked familiar to Rubio, with the aviator glasses and turned up collar.

“What you been smokin’ there, son? Does your momma back home know that you use drugs? I bet the woman who raised you from a little pup is cryin’ right now.” The trooper then closed his eyes behind his gold-framed aviators, and sung softly to himself, “… and his momma cries.” The officer wiped a tear from his cheek and bent down toward Rubio, “Your poor old momma, son. Do you ever call her?”

“Call who? You know that you look like that guy, man. I like your shades, Chief.”

“Thank you verrrry much. I want to know if you call your momma and tell her that you love her, son. Before it’s too late. Before your momma has left the building. Don’t be cruel to your momma boy. She’s the only one you’ve got.”

“I don’t even know who she is, Chief.”

“Well, it looks like you’re in double trouble, son. The names on the license and registration don’t match, and I believe that you’re under the influence, not to mention the pipe on the floor. I believe that you’re goin’ to be a-rockin’ in the jailhouse and a-cryin’ in the chapel before this is over. I sincerely hope that your momma isn’t alive to see this. Step out of the car, son, and put your hands up on the roof. Don’t you realize that drugs are the Devil in disguise? Yes, they are.”

* * * *

Dwayne the Lizard

Twenty minutes later, Rubio was sitting in a Las Vegas jail cell. His new ‘roach coach’ was locked up in police impound with a sleeping, pregnant Felayshia in the backseat.

The impound attendant left the car unlocked. At midnight, Falayshia was dragged out of the impound yard, and into the desert by a giant glowing horned toad.

Falayshia screamed, and startled the ten-foot high toad who then inflated its sedan-sized spiny body and shot blood out of its green eyes.

She was transfixed.

They each took a long deep breath.

Felayshia then leapt on top of Dwayne the Lizard’s back, patted him on the head, and together, they galloped off into the black Nevada night, toward “Happily Ever After.”

It’s nice to see a reptile have fun without having to stomp all over Tokyo.

El Celeste Lindo. “Best Mexican Food in the Universe”

One perfect day, Miriam (Moses’ sister) and the Goddess of Music, Cheri (Terpsichore) were ‘doing lunch’ at El Celeste Lindo, outside the gates of Heaven. Miriam was explaining to her old friend, Cheri, just why the washed up Johnny Passion’s musical revival was very important to “He with No Name.

“Cheri, this is a direct quote from The Big Cheese.”

Miriam opened her purse and removed a piece of rock. She read what was written on the small flat stone. It read, “Miriam, before you leave for your goddamned vacation, please Tell Cheri that the new tunes make me flip my goddamned lid! Tell my dear Goddess to help Johnny with his goddamned pipes so that these goddamned songs get done—right. Sincerely, Your Friend, He with No Goddamned Name

“He with No Goddamned Name? Isn’t that a Clint Eastwood movie?” Cheri asked, looking up at the heavens. “‘The Big Cheese?’ Tell me Miriam, where does he get these names?”

“Last week God was a ‘she’ with the name Betty.”

Cheri knew that God loved collecting names, like her foot fetishist friend Achilles loved to collect toenail clippings in shoe boxes.”Sorry, Miriam. I’ve been busy trying to get Johnny’s comeback ready.”

The real reason that Miriam had joined Cheri at El Celeste Lindo was to persuade the goddess to go out with her brother, Moses, the former Prince of Egypt. Miriam was no better than a pimp with her shameless pandering, trying to force her basically shy brother into Cheri’s busy life. “Cherrrrrri, You should go out with my brothah the loiiiiiiiiii-yah. The last time Miriam lunched with Cheri, at El Celeste Lindo, “Heaven’s BEST Tacos 1992” she wouldn’t let up.

“Prince of Egypt? I have a cat named Joe, Miriam. He must have been an Egyptian god. He leaves me a pyramid every morning to clean up.”

“You shoulda been Joan Rivers.”

Cheri tried to be respectful, which was never her ‘best suit’. “Your brother? The guy who still wears his baby blankie and talks to bushes?”

“Give Moe a break. You hardly know the guy.”

“I hear that he’s a very headstrong man, Miriam. Forty years of dragging around all of those tired people… I could hear those poor souls now, ‘Are we there yet, Daddy? Please father Moses, lets pull over. I really need to pee!’ I can see him driving his ox cart through the Sinai, swinging his arm behind him, like Rubio’s parents—trying to shut up the whiny children of Israel in the back seat and knocking all of their crayons onto the floor mats.”

Cheri had never really met the guy. She assumed that she knew all about him from what she had read…well, by what she had seen in the Ten Commandments as played by Charlton Heston, which was 98.2% accurate.

While Cheri spoke to Miriam, she was thinking to herself, He has a beard that looks like soggy shredded wheat.

“Miriam read Cheri’s mind. He shaved last week. Well, Cherrrri, they did make it to the Land of Milk and Honey. Finally,” said Miriam, while downing her third margarita.

“Milk shmilk. Honey Shmoney. Miriam, your brother’s so-called ‘promised land’ was the only spot in the freakin’ Middle East without any oil.”

“Yeah. So what, Miss Perfect? Did you give up your bump and grind hootchie-cootchie dancing, yet?”

God, who often followed the exploits his/her favorite goddess Cheri, was listening in on the women’s conversation, while he sizzled in the center of their table. Today, God was an order of Cuervo Flaming Fajitas. God was not merely impersonating the fajitas. God does not act. God became the fajitas, and, wow, they were really fucking good.

God just was feeling spicy that day, and the reaction to the meal was an orgasmic “Oh, God!”

The Cuervo Flaming Fajitas spoke to Cheri, in the voice of James Earl Jones: “Behold! I heard that, Terpsichore, I mean Cheri! If I were you, I’d be careful of what thou sayeth. I shall spare thee fine booty this time. Though, behold! There will be no dessert for you tonight! But you’ve got to try the flan the next time you eat here. Now go and get thy showeth on the roadeth.”

So, Miriam told Cheri, ”Go. Go help Johnny now, or he’ll never be reincarnated from being a musician to the status of a starving feral cat. Do it for the little people.”

“I tested those ‘little people’ and they went for disco like flies on poop! And I’m getting tired of babysitting Johnny? He’s a nice guy and all, but… shit!”

“Your attitude!” said Miriam. “What has happened to you, my friend? Think of Johnny’s talent as God’s way of saying, ‘Thanks kids, in return for all the tawdry entertainment you’ve given me.’”

“That’s exactly what I would have said,” said the Cuervo Flaming Fajitas, who were getting cold. God added, “I really am sorry for that last episode of The Sopranos.

Cheri thought of her friend Johnny and his true love, Rebel. Just maybe, maybe I can finally bring peace to them. She must find Johnny’s love.

Or. She could just fuck him and toss a happy face headstone on top of his grave. Below the headstones dwelled the genuine grateful dead.

“I know what you’re thinking,” said Miriam. “Remember, my dear friend, that’s my superpower. I hear everything. I’m Super Yenta!”

“Then, what have you heard about Johnny’s big comeback? How long will this keep going on for, Miriam? I cannot do this much longer. I need a real vacation. When is Johnny Passion’s ‘big moment’ going to happen?”

“Maybe a few months. Sinatra, Nat Cole and Torme are on their way over to his house right now for rehearsal. Schwieghaft’s ghost might even show up!”

“You’re kidding! The Arnold Schweighaft? The singing hemophiliac who choked while eating roaches at day camp?”

“It was spiders, Cheri. Not as gross.”

“Ooh! I gotta run, Miriam! I gotta go see this!”


“What, Miriam?”

“You’re not going to finish eating your plate of God?”

“Eat me, baby,” said the plate, obscenely. “C’mon Cheri. What do I look like, Taco Hell?”

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