Polska, Sucka!

Rocket: Wow, the The Stinky Cheese Man and Other Fairly Stupid Tales was hard to read aloud.

Skylark: It was hard to listen to! OY! What crack were these people smoking? The illustrations were interesting in a hideous graphic-design-student-obsessed-with-Mirrormask-taking-way-too-many-hits-of-bad-acid-while-listening-to-Technohead sort of way. I think I needed to be high to enjoy this crap. Hmmm… speaking of getting high, do you have some junk? I’m in so much pain. I hate these idiotic opportunistic infections.

Rocket: No for junk you! Junk is how you got AIDS to begin with! Only medicinal herbs for you, because needles are drugs, and drugs are for losers.

Skylark: I did not get AIDS from shooting up junk, and for your information marijuana IS a drug.

Rocket: Whatever! You’re so off-topic. Let’s get back to the review.

Skylark: (Rolls eyes.) Okay.

Rocket: The drawings are fun. They’re pretty original and different in a freaky way. I totally dig interesting art.

Skylark: Rasputin Catamite is kind of like that, but I don’t hear you heaping on praise.

Rocket: Dude, that comic is just fucking gross. It’s too obsessed with asses and smuttery. Whatever that means. Is “smuttery” even a word? The Stinky Cheese Man is a kid’s book.

Skylark: I think you need a doctorate in child psychology to comprehend this stinky book.

Rocket: Maybe you just need to be a child. This book is for kids and not for little lit snobs like you.

Skylark: I hated it, and so will anyone with taste.

Rocket: I’m not so sure about that, but I think warped children will totally dig it. If you are not a child, be sure to get intoxicated or something before reading. It’s too weird when you are sober.

Skylark: Kind of like me. Sober people hate me.

Rocket: Totally! (Rocket bounces.) Hey that gives me an idea! Instead of you doing dangerous hard drugs, let’s drink Everclear until we vomit blood. That’ll be fun.

Skylark: Um… yeah. Thank you for reading.

Rocket: You tricked me! This was not a romance novel at all. I thought Bergstom was so nice when I started this book. Why do you make me read these things aloud? The descriptions were so beautiful; totally engaging to the senses and stuff and then…
Skylark: You also thought the Police’s “Every Move You Make” was romantic. You need to learn that there is nothing loving about someone having a “Die Rebecca Schaffer” obsession.
Rocket: Oh that poor woman!
Skylark: Forget about that. In the defense of romance, I thought the relationship between Dora and Jerry was very romantic, in a pulpy film noir sort of way — not entirely unpredictable yet, satisfying. For the most part, I kept wondering, “what’s going to happen next.” I needed to know. Don’t even get me started on the psychology and secret intrigues. This was a great adventure with lots of gray and fuzzy areas. I love reading about humans.
Rocket: Romantic? That sex sceme at the end was creepiest thing ever. Oh my GAWD! I am still having nightmares.
Skylark: Oh come on, that whole sequence made me want to own a beagle. Kilpatrick, really has a good instict for tying loose ends and keeping continuity. He makes a complex spaghetti of a situation seem as simple as a piece of cake, and that is a testament to his craftsmanship.
Rocket: Want a Twinkie? *Offers one to Sylark*
Skylark: I like Twinkies and I like this book.
Rocket: Hustlers from Krakow will like any twinkie for $20, just like the ones in Los Angeles. I’m kidding, Polish hos are cheaper. Hey I actually learned something from reading this novel!
Skylark: *Irritated* Now that’s low. Just because I’m a former sex worker…
Rocket: You know It’s true, you ho!
Skylark: HO? A ho! I am not a…
Rocket: You just like books with dead people and things that disturb the mind.
Skylark: Let’s not focus on the corpses or the visceral, let’s focus on David Kilpatrick’s rich prose and careful attention to detail.
Rocket: Like the rich and detailed description of some sick bastard sexually mutilating a Barbie doll or some woman getting her skin scraped while falling off her bike.
Skylark: Not specifically… You also can tell that he did his homework. It almost seems like he worked for the police at some point in his life.
Rocket: Rich and detailed descriptions of grossness are not cool, I don’t care how well-written they are.
Skylark: He’s aiming for gritty realism. Do you really think that sexual predators are pleasant people to be around when they are having fits of madness?
Rocket: No… But how is sweeping for hidden surveillance devices realistic for some regular cop? It seems too cloak and dagger to be real.
Skylark: You’re too young to remember the spy fest or the KGB before the wall came down… Oh and don’t get me started on the Patriot Act.
Rocket: Creepy!
Skylark: How can you not like a book with little jokes like a perfume named “Some Flowers” in French or a line like, “…like a macho asshole complex”?
Rocket: How do you know French? You can’t even read.
Skylark: I fucked a hot French guy…
Rocket: I don’t want to know.
Skylark: It was before we were engaged.
Rocket: I said I don’t want to know.
Skylark: But…
Rocket: Skylark, what is wrong with you? I admit that there were some really cute touches, like the gay jokes and the stuff about shopping. Still, why do you insist of inflicting this kind of psychological trauma on me? I don’t ever want to read about men confessing things about little girls getting anally raped with lube or doggies getting burnt.
Skylark: Come on, you have to admit that Jerry the Pervert-Hunter is brilliant, and so is his banter with Dora. Kilpatrick’s cool dark humor really is what made this book a page turner for me. I wonder if he digs Vacchs? Brains and pulp is always a very good combo.
Rocket: The book still grossed me out. Kind of like CSI, only ickier.
Skylark: Are pederasts and sexual predators not gross?
Rocket: Okay, granted but, it was still icky to read.
Skylark: Perhaps, but it was a damn good read.
Rocket: Not if you were in the mood for a romance novel about Hollywood stars, *glaring at Skylark* you weasely… um… trickster!
Skylark: Sour grapes, baby. Today’s review was for David Kilpatrick’s L.A. Stalker. We hope this column has been helpful. Thank you for reading.

Skylark: That was absolutely entrancing and relaxing.
Rocket: Where do you get these weird boring-ass CDs. I still can’t that damn rooster song out of my head.
Skylark: “The Chauncer Songbook” is neither boring nor weird. It is a meticulously researched journey back into the medieval era where music is sublimely performed with authentic instruments and divine compositions. The vocalists have a pleasant…
Rocket: Whoa, wait! Maybe the chick has a good opera voice, but that fat-sounding dude is just weird.
Skylark: Fat-sounding dude?
Rocket: Not that opera is even cool to begin with.
Skylark: Where do you get opera from? There is not a single operatic performance in this CD. It is engrossingly unpretentious medieval folk music.
Rocket: What do you mean that there’s no opera in this CD? It’s all about the opera! (Trying to sound operatic.) “IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII haaaava geeeeeeeeeeentile COCK!” That sounds pretty damn operamatic to me.
Skylark: Do you even know what the hell an opera is?
Rocket: Hell yeah.
Skylark: Englighten me.
Rocket: It’s old music, sang by fat people with really loud voices about cocks, kings, religion, maidens with boobs, sex, death and stuff.
Skylark: (Dumbfounded.) I can’t really argue with that. What about modern operas like “Jesus Christ Superstar,” “Tommy,” or R. Kelly’s “TP.3″?
Rocket: Operative word is “modern”, which means, “better”. Except for R. Kelly, unless you are into rap and crap like Eryk.
Skylark: “Modern” is not a synonym for better, and Eryk would never listen to R. Kelly. He is more into old school and underground.
Rocket: Modern is too better. Buffalo turds for heating houses: Old. Solar energy: Modern. TV: Old. Internet: Modern. Opera: Old. Metal: Modern. Jolt: Old. Red Bull: Modern. Auntie: Old. Me: Modern. See, modern means better.
Skylark: What about old Metallica versus modern Metallica.
Rocket: (Looking quite distressed.) Dammit! That totally ruined my theory.
Skylark: Are you aware of that there is a difference between theory, hypothesis, and blatantly uneducated guess.
Rocket: I bet you believe in evolution too.
Skylark: Where the hell did that come from?
Rocket: You believe in science fiction, and not in intelligent design. That shows that you are stupider than me, because everybody knows that G-d created the universe. It’s right in the Torah.
Skylark: You are so meshuga today. What is your deal? Have you been talking to those American Messianic idiots again? I saw them doing their silly mission work earlier today. Like they’re ever going to convert Poland’s stubborn-ass Catholics.
Rocket: They’re not idiots, they’re nice and they believe in Jesus. Their way seems to be the best one in helping me reconcile my Catholic upbringing and my Jewish wannabeness.
Skylark: Rocket, I hate to break it to you, but, Messianic Jews aren’t really Jews. They’re Christians with identity issues.
Rocket: Oh yeah, well Auntie says that Reform Jews aren’t real Jews either. She told me that Reform Jews are the ones that are lazy atheists-in-denial who think that it’s cool to wear stars and play dreidel, but not cool to pay attention to high holidays or keeping a kosher kitchen.
Skylark: Rocket my love, this is the point in our conversation when YOU EAT SHIT AND DIE!
Rocket: Ooh.
Skylark: (Forlorn.) My mom was born Jewish.
Rocket: Weren’t we reviewing this one lame opera CD?
Skylark: No, we were reviewing “The Chaucer Songbook” from Carol Lloyd Wood, a beautifully reconstructed collection of Medieval classics using traditional and orginal compositions that evoke authentic aural experiences from a bygone era.
Rocket: In other words, it’s crap that only appeals to scholars and anal Renaissance Festies who scream about not being “in period” if you wear a latex corset with your foofy skirt.
Skylark: Sometimes, I think that those Messianics are actually zombies who are slowly nibbling on your brain, until it disappears into their digestive track.
Rocket: That would be cool.
Skylark: Meshuga. I’m telling you, she’s totally nuts today.
Rocket: “IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII haaaava geeeeeeeeeeeeeentile COCK!
Skylark: Sorry about this and thank you for reading. She’s totally insane.

Rocket: What the hell are you doing with those scissors?
Skylark: I’m going to cut some pictures out of this Victorian clip art book, so I can decoupage this lunch box.
Rocket: (Snatches the book from Skylark’s hands in the nick of time.) Dude, this is not a Dover clip art book of Victorian art. This is Edward Gorey’s Amphigorey Also. It’s a book from 1983 and it still has that copyright stuff that’s legal and shit, so it’s not in the public domain.
Skylark: Copyright laws can eat my ass.
Rocket: Plus, I’m borrowing it from Vas.
Skylark: Ooh that’s a pity. I wanted to use the color picture of the frog on a bicycle.
Rocket: Tough titty, itty bitty. This is contemporary ficton
Skylark: Really? The artwork looks a bit dated.
Rocket: It’s not dated, it’s retro.
Skylark: As in pseudo-vintage?
Rocket: I guess. It looks old.
Skylark: It’s wonderfully intricate, but I wish the linework wasn’t so busy in some of the pieces. Overall, the style is charming and pleasing to the eye and it is meticulously executed. I think that has a lot to do with why I wanted to decorate my Victorian-themed lunch box with some of the art.
Rocket: The art is cute, but wait until I read the Gorey’s stories to you, they are uporary with just a tiny bit of phantasmagory.
Skylark: Leave the poetry to me, okay.
Rocket: What’s wrong with my poetry? I’m just trying to get into the groove for this review.
Skylark: Ew.
Rocket: Oh, whatever you crochety green-haired bastard. This book is weird fun for the whole family, although really tiny kids might be scared by some of the stories and art.
Skylark: I am disappointed I can’t make decoupage with it.
Rocket: Sorry. Here, use this book instead. Oh yeah, and this one is pretty sweet too.
Skylark: I will have the best lunch box ever!
Rocket: By the way, why are you decorating a lunch box with a Victorian theme?
Skylark: It’s pretty and I want to give that incredibly hot HIV-positive goth guy I met the other day a lovely gift. You know, a bunch of adult implements in a really cute container. If I impress him, I might be able to get him into b… (Skylark nearly incriminates himself and stops talking.)
Rocket: (Suspicious.) Get him into what?
Skylark: Um… I gotta go Rocket, I have an appointment at the… um… hair salon, yeah, the hair salon. (Runs away.)
Rocket: (Chases after Skylark.) You bastard, you’re going to cheat on me with a goth dude. You slut! I’m gonna kill you.

Rocket: Finally, we got to see the Broken Saints website on broadband Internet rather than on dial-up.
Skylark: It looked pretty good, but Flash and slow Internet do not mix, so I am glad we finally have some decent web access.
Rocket: If you are going to explore this website, and all of the episodes and downloads that it holds, we suggest you do it one small bit at a time. It’s pretty intense… um… cart… um… sh… online graphic novel, I guess.
Skylark: Yeah, that’s the best way description I can think of to describe it.
Rocket: Is it just me, or did Broken Saints kind of remind you of The DaVinci Code?
Skylark: Don’t make fun of people’s art in such a tasteless way.
Rocket: What do you mean? I liked The DaVinci Code.
Skylark: You also like Harlequin Romance Novels.
Rocket: There is nothing wrong with Harlequin Romance Novels, you lit snob.
Skylark: So you say…
Rocket: Anyway, this online graphic novel makes you think, so take some time to absorb it.
Skylark: Film noir and transcendental meditation don’t exactly lend themselves to rushing about.
Rocket: Broken Saints can be very intense, and sometimes it can be pretty freaky. But if you take it slowly it really can make you think. Otherwise, it might be frustrating and boring. I personally didn’t find it that way though.
Skylark: Broken Saints seemed a bit spiritually overwrought at times, but I think that had a lot to do with the whole hard-boiled film noir feel it was trying to accomplish. For this reason, I am willing to give it the benefit of a doubt — especially since it is obvious that the creators have a healthy sense of humor about the whole project. Personally, I am not too much into the whole end of times thing, but I really enjoyed the fresh approach and visual execution. I am definitely curious about viewing the DVD. This website is not for people who are into idealized new age descriptions of spirituality or those who are not comfortable with challenges to their faith. It can get pretty gritty and it’s not exactly fare for the strict Orthodox folks at your local synagogue.
Rocket: That’s for sure. Your aunt would probably throw the computer monitor out the window, and then call the rabbi to do some sort of cleansing ritual before stoning us to death for making her watch the cartoon.
Skylark: That’s a bit of a hyperbole… although, I still remember her reaction when I came out of the bisexual closet. Uff!
Rocket: Your auntie is adorable, but she can kvetch like nobody’s business. Do you remember the floral dish thing?
Skylark: *Making his best impression of an old Jewish woman.* “You did not put cheese on the floral plates. Oh my GAWD, you did put cheese on the floral plates. Now, I am going to need a new set of floral dishes for the lamb chops, because these ones are going into the garbage. You shishke, you bring chaos into the world! Here’s some money. Hurry, go and buy a new set of floral set of dishes before the lamb chops are done, and don’t open the box. I do not want your filthy goy hands touching my new dishes.”
Rocket: That was a pretty good impression of your aunt.
Skylark: Yeah I know… back to the review.
Rocket: We really should’ve done this review years ago.
Skylark: I realize that, but Vas had us in cold storage for about fifteen years. So technically speaking, we didn’t even exist during that time.
Rocket: Sometimes I hate being a cartoon character. I hate it how some unseen weird force of nature, that we can only perceive when it reveals itself to us, can decide the fate of my life with the flick of a calligraphy pen. I hate it how it can create and destroy things, seemingly on a whim, like some unstoppable all-powerful, all-knowing and ever present being. It scares the crap out of me.
Skylark: So does that mean you have a Zeusophobia?
Rocket:What’s a Zoo-Zoo-Pho-Bee?
Skylark: You have an irrational fear of deity.
Rocket: Vas is not deity.
Skylark: It depends on your perspective… She is not a god, as we understand it, but…
Rocket: Enough of the blasphemy.
Skylark: How can I blaspheme against something that cannot be proved or disproved?
Rocket: No wonder your aunt thinks you’re a bad Jew. How can you be a Jew if you don’t believe in G-d.
Skylark: I believe in G-d, just not the way most people do.
Rocket: You suck! I’m going to spend some alone time now.
Skylark: OY! You argue for the sake of arguement. I swear.
Rocket: *Slams the door.*
Skylark: Well, thanks for reading… but sheesh, that woman.