Sound of Soylents

Hello green thing, my old friend. I’ve come to munch on you again.

For a dystopian planet overwhelmed with maybe fifty billion people, the world of Soylent Green is remarkably free of children. There are nearly none. Like the people had stopped fucking a decade or so before and now it was all adults. Which would take care of that population problem soon enough. Maybe soylent had been made out of babies. It’s left unresolved, abandoned somewhere behind Charlton Heston’s acting and Edward G. Robinson’s brilliant last performance. I think he was gone before the movie opened. Soylent green was Edward G.  Mother of Mercy, is this the taste of Rico?

Fish boil

I went to a fish boil in Wisconsin once. Take a cauldron, add fish and potatoes, bring to a boil, toss gasoline on the fire, the cauldron boils over, fish oil causes a flare up for a few seconds, then eat the fish and potatoes. I asked why not add a carrot or onion. Got cold Norwegian stares. Everyone ate in Lutheran silence, then went out to their cars and drove home. That was it? I thought we’d missed something. No, that was it. Oh. Silence. So how’d you like it? The fish was good, I said.  It really was. And the potato was too. The Norwegians really know how to boil fish and potatoes. I liked when they threw the gas on the fire too. Yah, sure, he said, that was exciting. Continue reading


So a Costco membership in fifty five dollars? You give them $55 for the privilege of giving them more money when you actually buy stuff? Am I missing something? That’s a workable business model? It must be. It’s like Scientology for shoppers. Do they wear the Star Trek uniforms too? No, they don’t, not yet. But the Costco parking lot near us is a little creepy, all those hordes of people with that identical expression. I can’t explain it, sort of a fanatically determined shopping look. A couple weeks ago I was going to one of the restaurants nearby and parked on the Costco side of the lot. Big mistake. As soon as I got out of the car and began walking in the wrong direction I was spotted, detected, sensed somehow, and the people turned on me. We’re going to Costco, come with us. I said no, I was going somewhere else. They said you’re going to Costco. I said no I wasn’t. They said you are and I started to get nervous. But I’m not a member I said. You can sign up, they said. But I don’t want to sign up I said. You don’t want to be a member they said? Not for $55 I said. Why not they said. I don’t feel like paying that much to go to a store. They said sure you do. I said no I don’t. They said come on, just sign up. I said no, it’s expensive and it’s a hassle. They said it’s easy. Easy? Yes, easy. All you have to do is fall asleep. It’s painless.

$55 is not painless. So I ran. They ran after me. You are not of the body they yelled, chasing me down with their shopping carts piled high with 100 roll packages of toilet paper. I ran for my life. Then the siren wailed and they all stopped, turned around and walked towards the store. Weena stop I cried. But she went into the store with them. Down came the iron doors. Weena was in there. Frantic, I ran out into Los Feliz Boulevard, waving my arms and yelling. Listen to me! Listen to me! Those people that are coming after me, they’re not human! You fools! You’re in danger! Can’t you see? They’re after all of us! Our wives, our children, everyone on your shopping list! You’re next! You’re next! You’re–and I was flattened by a big Costco Truck. The police opened the back and it was filled floor to ceiling with 100 roll packages of toilet paper. More toilet paper than you have ever seen in your life. You gotta tell them. You gotta tell them. Costco toilet paper is made out of people.