Alfred: All rise. For his majesty!

Anne: mmmmmmmmmmm hubba hubba

Wolsey: We have the verdict! The marriage is stricken down!


Batman VIII: Ah very good. I think I'll retire to the ... bat chambers. Anne? My ... queen?

The Jester: Way to go batsie! Love those tights. Really. After you are done with her I have something for you in the tower. Bwwaaaaaaaaaa ha ha ha ha haaaaaaaaaaa!!!!

etc etc

Director: NO!!!!! NO!!!!!! NO!!!!!!! Absolutely not! Where is the original script?!?

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It was one of those luxury apartments where you pay the onsite managers a hefty percentage of your rent for needless frills amd indulgences...

Rex Requiem's eyes gleamed as he contemplated his new home. Sterile. Clean. Waiting for the mark of the artist. It had been a long day. The boss man had been unusually demanding. He was sweaty. He was irritated. He had lots of restless energy.

Laughing cruelly, he stripped off his outer garments and threw a pair of undies, con racing stripe, into the center of the bedroom floor.... It had begun...

In a frenzy he moved through the place. Milk on the kitchen floor here. Lid on the toilet seat up there. Grease on the inside door handle of his... doomed... abode. In one day his mark was made.

But Rex's mastery was in his cold blooded determination and unshakeably solid vision. Day after day. Week after week he added to his creation. Careful never to create life threatening art. Careful to create a balanced ecosystem of plant, insect, and mammal.

And it was good.

"NO!" exclaimed Tess Trulyclean, resident manager upon inspection a year later. "God NO!"

The voice of futility in the wilderness. She tried to compel him with lease clauses... He grinned. She tried to argue from deep philosophical principals... He maneuvered skillfully through the thicket of her argument. She hired some local muscle to persuade him... He was incorruptible.

In a well thought out gambit he cleaned the place short of a coming court battle. Not because he didn't enjoy court, quite the contrary, no he was playing for Tess's soul...

"No!" said the maintainence man "In all of creation NO no such thing should exist! No I will not do it"

He had blundered into Rex's web. It was inevitable. The apartment above had blown a pipe and flooded Rex's creation. His predators, large spiders, died in the tsunami, and you know what happens when the predators go from an ecosytem... you know....

The buzz was audible from the front street, some 40 meters away. Rex was all smiles as he left for work that day. Clothes soaked.

For he was now.... Lord of the Flies!




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The cries of the other inmates of the ward fade from our senses as we focus on the old man's tale:

Salieri: There was nobody like him. He was the voice, the vision of God.

Shrink: mmmhmmm. He was unusually messy. We know.

Salieri: Messy?!? He was a genius you pathetic little man!

Shrink: Sorry. Sorry. Please go on.

Salieri: I first saw one of his apartments in Prague, it was Spring...

Shrink: You told me the Prague story already. Let's go to something new.

Salieri: It was, in my opinion, and I know art... it was his... masterwork!

Shrink: *sigh*

Salieri: But why? Why did God choose to give his gift to such an irritating man? His laugh sounds like nails on a chalkboard. His friends are the most devious and depraved lot you can imagine. His appetites, shall we say, are collossal.

Shrink: Yes... yes... there wasn't much left to bury when he died.

Salieri: God mocked me. I worked. I slaved to be an artist.

Shrink: We know, you actually achieved a cockroach in a freezer. Amazing.

Salieri: Yes. But he could do that while tied up in a straight jacket, set on fire, and shot into space.

Shrink: Now that you mention it, didn't he do that in '06?

Salieri: God mocked me! I tried to be good to his creation. I tried to be a part of his art. But he was a loner. He made fun of me. And my work.

Shrink: You had the patience of ... it escapes me at this time.

Salieri: So I k1lled him.

Shirnk: Come again?

Salieri: I snuffed him. I cut his existence short. I put a penny on his rails. I capsized his vessel. I sent him 6 feet under. I gave him to the crabs.

Shrink: I see. (making a long set of notes)

Salieri: I decided that if God was such a prick to me, I would become a servant of his enemies.

Shrink: But he was found dead in bed. A smile on his face.

Salieri: It turns out I am a very good mrrderer. I tell you he suffered. Horribly. I saw to that.

Shrink: And do you not feel guilty? Do you not wish to repent for your terrible crime?

Salieri: NO!!! I am the NO to God's plan. The earthly veto. I will mrrder a million Requiem's if I have the breath in this frame. And I work out. I am gonna be a very very old man. Just so I can continually, perpetually say NO and NO and NO again to God and his contemptible creations...

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I Shall Not Yield, No! No!! NO!!! Quote

"I kNOw pretty girl; I'm melting to ..."

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Judge: Would the defense like to make its closing arguments now?

Rex: Good m'lud. I mean: your Honor. The prosecution has made its case. We have seen of what it consists. It is, if we must use one noun, and one adjective, simple tyranny.

The landlord doth presume that he can dictate to the tenant the manner in which he lives within his own four walls. For that is how we, in this land, view even a rented dwelling. A man's castle, though he must return it after the lease time is done and pay for what damage he has inflicted through his ill luck, or neglect, upon it.

The landlord has the right for payment only, and only at the end of the term. He does not have the right to come in at some intervening time, raise his nose in the air and declare that the tenant is "on a bad path" or in danger of owing him some money at the end of the lease. NO! He may only intervene if there is threat to life, gross danger of fundamental damage to property, or a stoppage of the cash flow. So long as our noble tenant, living like any happy subject to our fine nation's laws, provides no nuisance to his neighbors, nor threat to himself, he is free to live as he likes within his purchased domains.

He may arrange his possessions in any manner however unusual inside. He may for instance hang his underwear from hooks in the ceiling. He may choose to place his shirts in a refrigerator. These types of decisions, though not the norm of society, nevertheless do not pose any danger or nuisance. The fact that a tenant wishes to escape into some alternate reality, creating for himself an alien world, so long as this world does not endanger the normal world, is no concern to the rest of us.

The secret of our success, such as it has been, oh it has been grand in many ways, is our individual freedoms. They are lost so easily. Would you really compromise them over something so mundane as your subjective view of the role of insects as pets, uncaged and free, or the inherent beauty of underwear suspended in all its glory from ceiling, casting its white light over a lovely dalmation carpet. Are we so constrained in our thinking to view countertops as colored only mundane tans or one tone or do we permit our lord, within his walls, the right to have some pink here, some orange there, a richer far more enjoyable tan than what he was given?

NO! We must not restrict him nor mankind in general. Mankind must be free to flow without banks. To whatever the mad rush of Fame and Fortune carry him in his quest for all that is Good and Right and Just. NO! He must be free!

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I'm Just a Guy who Can't Say No Quote

The table is quiet... something is in the air. Eyes dart back and forth behind shades. Chips clink and chatter in the grasp of methodically churning fingers.

In Phil Ivey's Mind: "Fold 'em. Fold 'em NOW! Thisssssss hand is not for YOU!!!!"

Phil's eyes go wide briefly and the only man at table not wearing shades folds his pocket aces. No one has ever accused this master of a lack of good sense.

And so two are left. One is the famous Phil Hellmuth. The other, not so famous in the poker world, wears the crimson garb and wide brimmed hat of the Order.

Helmuth: Re-raise 50 thousand.

He is confident with pocket kings. But a little confused by Ivey folding after showing strength initially.

Mountie: Call.

The flop comes and gives Helmuth two more kings. He goes all in.

The mountie plays with deuce - eight unsuited. He got nothing out of a flop which had a suit of almost every kind and no eights nor deuces.

He calls.

Helmuth: ( after seeing his cards ) Oh you idiot! How did you make it to the final table playing like this? This is not poker. You are drawing dead you... you... idiot!

Behind his glacier glasses the mountie's eyes roll up into his skull.

Mountie: (with a strange, chilling, deep voice) You went all in. With your chips. But there is still something you have not bet. You can add it if you like.

Hellmuth: What the frick are you talking about you wack job?

Mountie: You know what I am talking about.

He let the silence come down. Hellmuth would normally have said a few choice words but the room's temperature had gone down by about thirty degrees and the lights had started to pop out one by one spitting sparks as they went out. Everybody else seemed frozen. Mouths open.

Hellmuth: It's on the table too. What do you bet in return?

Mountie; You know that too.

And the funny thing was he did. But what did he care. The mountie was drawing dead right?

The turn came and no eight , no deuce. Phil didn't quite know why but he relaxed a little. He didn't even realize he was tense until he did. His knuckles were white from clenching air.

The mountie's face was impassive. Only one card left.

Mountie: I will let you take it off the table now.

Hellmuth: Go fuck yourself.

The mountie raised his right hand. He snapped his fingers. Hellmuth's eyes followed his hand but then latched quickly down to the cards. And to his horror, they had all changed. He still had his pocket pair, but the mountie was now one card away, the ace of hearts, from a royal flush. Hellmuth wasn't though. His kings were the wrong suit.

The universe seemed to go into slow motion now as the river card turned slowly in the dealer's hand. Hellmuth's unbelieving eyes saw an ace of hearts fall onto the table.

Hellmuth: NO!!! FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT'S SACRED! NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!

Mountie: Luck is a dirty bitch that has been playing for you your whole pathetic life.

Then he and Hellmuth both vanished in a flash of smoke and fire.



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Catherine looked across her court and found her eyes drawn irresistibly to the ambassador from 'Jersey. Butterflies started to fly in her tummie. Fever spots began to pop in front of her eyes.

Catherine: 1st minister, bring the ambassador before me!

She pulled her 2nd minister close by and confided in a whisper:

Catherine: She is devine.

2nd minister: She is (a) bovine.

Catherine: I know I know. But look at those magnificent flanks and that pierced udder. Hubba hubba. Oh is it wrong to want a cow?

2nd minister: (considering the possibilities) Oh well you know. Women are the cows of people.

Catherine: That's right! Very good minister! Oooooo I am feeling so wet already and my tits are just so ready for good vigorous milking.

2nd minister: Majesty they aren't made of... oh never mind. Her highness Claribell from Jersey!!!

Claribell: How dooooooo youse do, moooooooooooooo, Better come quick momma's on fire.

Director: Stop stop stop! Ok I can see where this is going now.

Kkkkk Ken the script writer: Yuh ya YUH ya you... d d d d d do...

Director: In a word: No! No we don't want the foreign incident. No we don't want to rewrite history. No our sponsor wouldn't like it. Although we do like the fact that you brought in a sexual element very early on. No sorry. We'll call you the moment we need another story, okay?





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