ACRA/LNHY: Girls on Beach Blankets #3: "James Joyce Gone Wild!"

Arthur Spitzer arspitzer at
Fri Sep 29 18:34:40 PDT 2006

[Warning:  Reading this story might reveal to you the secrets of the 
universe, or this story may laugh at your inability to understand it.]

Girls on Beach Blankets #3

                            "James Joyce Gone Wild!"

  -- James Joyce's Finnegans Wake

"Hey Babes!  Want to be on TV?"  Cherry and Salsa briefly looked up to 
see who had interrupted their deep sunbathing meditation ritual.  They 
spotted a grinning man with a hand held camera.

"I guess," shrugged a rather unenthusiastic Cherry.  Salsa gave a slight 
nod to the idea.

"Great!  Awesome!  Look, girls -- all I want you to do is like smile for 
the camera and then lick your lips and then -- you know -- take your 
tops off and then your bottoms and then give each other a little kiss 
and then -- you know -- roll around naked in the sand for a few minutes. 
  Easy!  Simple!  And then Video Immortality, Baby!  Immortality!  Awesome!"

"Wait," Cherry said, "What else do we get?"

"Else?  Oh right.  You get these totally excellent One Size Fits All 
"Chicks will do anything for this T-shirt!" T-shirt.  And some Mardi 
Gras beads!!  Awesome!  Okay -- let's start getting naked!  Awesome!"

"Wait.  What about money?"  Salsa wondered.

"Money!  Money?!" said a bewildered Guy with a video cam.

"Hmm.  I think a million dollars --  What do you think, Salsa?"

"No.  A billion and his soul.  We don't want to seem to easy," Salsa 
said with a slight yawn.

"You're so right.  Plus we can put that into our 'Conquering the World' 
fund.  Okay, looks like we'll do it for a billion dollars each and your 
soul.  Where are your contracts?"

"Contracts?  Billions of Dollars Each?  My soul?  What are you crazy 
bitches on?!  I'm Yo Panzoff, producer of the whole "Girls Doing it For 
T-shirts" video series!  Awesome!  I don't pay people money!  I pay them 
in Mardi Gras beads and T-shirts!  Awesome!  Christ!  Money!  What the 
hell is that?"

Before Cherry and Salsa could explain to Yo Panzoff the concept of money 
another voice crackled through the conversation barrier.  It was an old 
irish type voice.  "I'll do it!  Give me those beads and T-shirt! 
Forget those bitches!  I'll give you the show of a life time!"

Yo Panzoff turned around and gasped in horror as he caught sight of a 
wrinkly old man completely naked.

"Oh God!  Is that who I think it is?" said a totally disturbed Cherry.

"Yes -- It's James Joyce!!!"


I am a beach blanket.

People lie on me.

Human people.

Stinky, fat, ugly, naked human people.

Hate them.  Hate them all.

One day -- Get my revenge.


I am a beach blanket



A classroom.  Full of children.   And a teacher.

"Cherry?"  The teacher asked a question to a cute red-headed girl. 
"What would you like to be when you grow up?"

"Hmm.  A Justice on the Supreme Court.  Or maybe a High Priestess in a 
sex cult.  I guess."   A second later the little girl added. 
"Whichever pays more."



"Why?" asked Ben Franklin dodging a blow from a chain-saw with anguish 
in his face.  "Why must we battle to the death with chain-saws, Abraham 
Lincoln?  Why, Abe, why?"

Abraham Lincoln raised his chain-saw in the air with a mad laugh.  And 
then struck with full force into Ben Franklin's arm.  And he kept 
striking even as Ben Franklin shrieked in ghastly pain.  There would be 
no mercy today.  In the end, all that was left of Mr. Franklin was a 
mutilated corpse covered in blood.

"Because -- Benny Boy," Abraham Lincoln said licking the blood off of 
his lips, "Battling to the death with ice cream sundaes would just be 
plain silly."

And for the coup de grace, Abraham Lincoln sawed off Ben Franklin's head 
and held it for all to see.  "I am Master of the Looniverse! 
Muhahahahhahahah!!!!"  But it was only for a short while.  A second 
later a bullet shot through his heart.

"What the fuck?  Who?!" Abraham Lincoln said as he fell down on Ben 
Franklin's mutilated corpse.  These would be his last words.

"The name's James Joyce, bitch!"


"Stop it!  Stop laughing!"  Reader #5291 said as he slammed down his 
issue of Girls on Beach Blankets #3:  'James Joyce Gone Wild!' onto the 

"You bastard comic book!  You're not clever!  I can see through all your 
thinly veiled postmodern tricks.  You're just a shallow piece of 
pretentious non-linear crap!  You goddamn bastard!  There are no secrets 
of the universe in this issue!  You laughing bastard!  You have no soul! 
  No truth.  All these little postmodern tricks are to conceal the fact 
that you're nothing!  Nothing! Just a shoddily plotless piece of crap!"

Reader #5291 gave the comic book another kick.  And then picked it up 
and broke its spine.  "Stop Laughing!  Stop it!"

Reader #5291 smashed a beer bottle against the wall.  He gazed within 
the jagged edges of the bottle.  And then he looked right at the comic 
book.  The laughing comic book.  "If only you'd had some female nudity. 
  That would have at least been something.  Damn you!"


God stared at his toothbrush.

It was the most powerful toothbrush in the Looniverse.  So powerful that 
it could brush your teeth faster than light on uppers.  So powerful that 
it could cure any disease in your mouth.  So powerful that it would make 
your breath minty fresh till the end of time and your teeth sparkly 
whiter than an anti-blackhole that had been attacked by a vampire.  So 
powerful that only God could ever use it in his mouth.  And only God 
could hold it because for anyone else to hold it would cause them to be 
erased from the Book of Life.  Every dentist that has ever existed and 
will ever exist approved of this toothbrush.

Still -- he didn't really need a toothbrush.  Because he was God, he had 
perfect teeth that were always perfectly white and perfectly minty 
fresh.  So -- why?  Why did he have this toothbrush that he had no use 
for?  Why did he create it?

God clutching his toothbrush stared into the infinite void.  Into the 
beginning.  Into the ending.  Into the heavens and hells and boobs of 




A hospital.

A Musak version of Puff the Magic Dragon plays away in the background.

An old Cherry and old Salsa lie on hospital beds.  Black lesions speck 
there faces.

Salsa speaks.  "He's almost here.  I can feel him coming.  Why?  Why did 
we do it?  Why did we kill ourselves?  Baking away our lives?  Why?  Was 
it worth it to look smoking hot?  Smoking hot and then some?  Now -- 
we've got skin cancer.  Skin cancer!  I didn't want to die this way, 
Cherry.  My dreams are gone now.  I never did get to go to Alaska.  I 
never even got to raise huskies.  God.  His cold fingers are touching 
me.  The darkness is coming."  A tear streamed down Salsa's cheek.  "I 
love you Cherry.  I always loved you."  Salsa's eyes closed.

"Could you keep it down!  I'm trying to read this magazine!" said an 
annoyed Cherry.


Z got drunk and went crazy killing and raping all of the letters.

But it was all a dream.

But what if it wasn't.

Makes you think.

About how fragile the alphabet really is.


At the Legion of Net.Heroes Headquarters...

Exclamation!Master!stared very hard at the multiple monitors in front of 
him.  Exclamation!Master! put his hand on one of the monitors. 
"Everywhere!" Exclamation!Master! exclaimed!  "On every screen!  So 
many!  In Paris!  In Bagdad!  In Moscow!  In Tokyo!  In Antarctica! 
Beaches!  Covering the Globe!  And on them Breathtaking Bathing Beauties 
Bobbing on Beach Blankets!  Everywhere!"  Exclamation!Master! gave a 
dramatic pose and clenched his teeth.

"Now if only everyone had a surfboard," quipped Kid Kicked Out, "But 
seriously this is the type of Global Warming Problem that I could really 
get my hands on.  And a few other parts of my body on.  Hmm.  Something 
wrong, Buxom?  This is usually the time you call me a sexist idiot."

"Sorry, KKO.  I -- I feel strange.  Like I want to get into a bikini and 
lie on a beach blanket and get a tan.  Oh btw... you're sexist idiot."
"I feel the same way!"  Trophy Wife said, "About lying around in a 
bikini and about Kid Kicked Out's intelligence.  What's causing this?"

"I fear we're witnessing the Death of the Superhero Genre!  And all 
devouring trend!  Soon there won't be any superheroes -- just girls in 
bikinis on beach blankets!  Devouring us all!  Why, Pop Culture?  Why 
have you forsaken us?!!!!" Exclamation!Master! said getting a little bit 

"Damn.  There's some naked old guy blocking the view of those two babes. 
  I don't want to see naked men.  Naked women, yes.  Get off the screen 
naked old guy.  Damn you!"  Kid Kicked Out said shaking his fist.

"No.  You can't be back!  You should be dead!  I killed you!  I severed 
your head and burned your body you demonic blood sucking son of a 
bitch!"  Van Hel.sig growled to himself recognizing the old man on the 
screen.  "But you're back.  But I'm still here, James Joyce.  I killed 
you once.  And I'll keep on killing you... till... you stop coming back 
to life.   Yes, James Joyce.  It's time we ended this once and for all. 
  I'm coming.  God, am I coming."  With that Van Hel.sig stormed out of 
the room. Buxom, Kid Kicked Out, and Trophy Wife followed him.

Meanwhile, Exclamation!Master! was still in the room staring at the 
monitor screen.  "I feel like wearing a speedo and nothing else!  Curse 
you Evil Ones!!!!!"


I am the sand.
I was here before life
and beach blankets.
I like your ideas
beach blanket
about getting rid
of the humans.
lets do lunch.
I am the sand.


"Isn't James Joyce dead?" asked Cherry.

"Yeah, probably," Salsa nodded.

"Gross.  Dead people shouldn't walk around naked."

"Yeah.  Certainly not worth $9.95."

Meanwhile, Yo Panzoff screamed for mercy.

Mardi Gras beads scattered across the sands.

NEXT TIME:  More girls... on beach blankets!
Author Notes:

That all made sense....

Arthur "djfkasl;jfkfsdajafs;ldjf;kal" Spitzer

More information about the racc mailing list