The Protest

I love finding old notes. Here are my notes for a play called “The Protest.”


I’m the Grand Marshall of the Hot Meat Parade and I’m sporting an Estrada-style melonhead variant.

Montcrieff Montesinos
Cardinal Almagordo
Hebo Rickreall

Don’t tell anyone I’m the head of the Curia, I told everyone back home I play piano in a whorehouse.

I dream of sleeping with the smallest blanket ever made, a rectangle of flannel three feet wide and six inches long.

Frightened by objects, menaced by their being.

The Curia, or, The Committee for the Preservation of Doctrinal Relativism

Committee for the Prevention of Virtue and the Promotion of Vice. A ‘religious’ police who dress like 18th century Greek soldiers in short white capes, pleated skirts, hose, black velvet shoes, white blouse and patterned vest, with three-foot-tall red conical hats. On the shoulder of each cape is an embroidered patch with the design of a compass.

I believe in being as evil as possible.

Government campaign to interest children in heroin.

I’m a hard man not to love.

A marble plaza in Venice, with a rostrum on a circular dias, with five steps up center. Stage left, steps and columns and façade of the temple. Stage right, fountain. Upstage, wall of palace with two arched doors.

Men surround a woman and beat her with wooden shoes. When someone in the crowd calls out, “They’re barbarians!” they are arrested for being a Truthist, a loathed heresy that believes things are “true” or “not true”.

The High Executive Committee on the Transfer Project of the Foreign Ministry of Embassies to Venice met here Sunday under Cardinal Almagordo, the chair of the committee. It adopted a number of decisions.

What impressed the audience even more than his frankness, his eloquence, his knowledgeable comments and his spontaneity and his wit was his humbleness despite his exalted position.

Scene-for-scene based on Julius Caesar.

Two parties, Doctrinal Relativism (in charge) and Revolutionary Absolutism (opposition) both of whom seek an end of doubt.

Furbox, a mystic (like the soothsayer in C), the third way, “crazy” as he uses his judgment. Allied to the “Truthist” heretics.

The Chief Defender of Doctrinal Relativism, the Leader and Principal Deputy of the Curia, Cardinal Almagordo.

The Acting Commissioner of Revolutionary Absolutism, the Architect and Supreme Commander of the Archonate, Comrade Hebo Rickreall.

Quickly, go and fill my spare uniform pants full of dipping sauce.

Man holds a centerfold of a ghutra up with one hands and furiously tugs the bacon strands of Pol Pot with the other.

You, go change into another middle-aged woman’s sweater from the 80s.

She’s got all the most popular neuroses.

What if water were made out of glass bottles?

The loneliness of power, the power of loneliness.

Linda chose to build her house in the bowels of a magnificent monkeypod tree.

Smokeables (instead of “Lunchables”)

These women are bald, flaccid and white as maggots.

I am more pretty and more handsome, blacker and more white.

Everyone is superior to everyone else.

The more ideas, the more confusion. I propose even more ideas and even less meaning.

I didn’t eat a thing all day and then I gorged myself on half-cooked chicken.

Kissyface protocol

Are the skinny morally inferior?

People! he spat. I prefer the dead.


Double-crane fist arms, engorged with Siberian fish roe, bears chew my testicles.

Have you got your land arms on? Put your land arms on. You just sit their talking to me with your land arms on like that?

Aquatic briefcase.

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