"I've heard you're God," the reporter said. The old man whom the reporter was talking to continued to chomp on his chocolate chip chocolate muffin. When the hoary fellow finished he croaked out, "Who told you such a story?"
"That's just the rumor."
"Would God sit, devouring a chocolate chip chocolate muffin and sipping espresso in the front room of a rented single-story cottage in Hillcrest? Does God sit in that house and watch reruns of MASH?"
"Well, people have..." the tall, thin greyhound started out but then stammered. "Good lord, I've turned into a dog."
"A greyhound, to be exact," said the old man and got up to leave the room. He returned with a green fabric leash and brown leather collar. "Here, boy."
The dog that used to be a man wanted to protest. He did not want to be leashed. He did not want to wear a collar, and most of all he did not want to be a dog! But, he found that his vocal cords were simpler than they once were, and his mind didn't know how to operate them effectively. So he turned around and pushed his head back into his brown, corduroy blazer to hide from God.
It was no use. God reached in and slipped the loop around the greyhound's head and tugged on the leash.
"C'mon, boy. I want to show you something." And with that, God leapt out the front door and bounded down the porch steps with his companion following loyally. Out onto University Avenue they pushed through the night and stopped in the dim doorway where the fluorescent lights of the liquor stores cast a deep shadow.
"Hello, boys. This here's my new friend," the old man said, tugging on the leash.
"Oh ho. He's a good dog," the rummies, bummies, and drifters groaned through coughs. They each reached over and petted the majestic animal from his head to his tail, and the greyhound panted.
"Scoot over, I'm going to sit down for a while. I'm an old man," God said. And with that, the crowd laughed and coughed and sputtered.
"Thought you'd be watching TV about now," one of the lost souls coughed out.
"No, no," God answered. "MASH is over."
WHAT I WILL AND WON'T WATCH THIS WEEK
Thursday, October 6
The West Wing
BRAVO 11:00 a.m.
Condoleezza Rice is what I imagine the Bride of Frankenstein would look like if you used only the parts from a Neanderthal and a bulldog. Yes, she's a very powerful woman. No, my judging her by her looks isn't fair. Yes, you may bite my ass.
First Daughter (2004)
HBO 3:55 p.m.
It takes a village to raise an idiot.
Friday, October 7
International Showgirl Awards I
INHD 12:00 a.m.
The other day VH1 played Showgirls . Which kind of pissed me off. Because of the damn censorship, all of the crappy dialogue about whacking off was cut and they didn't show what's-her-name-from- Saved-by-the-Bell 's funny, tubular boobs. What the hell am I going to watch this stinkin' movie for if not that?
Saturday, October 8
CSPAN3 10:00 p.m.
The only time the word "knoll" is used is in reference to Kennedy's assassination. It's as if there are no other knolls in the world. I get a little creeped out if I say "knoll" because I think of that movie JFK and Joe Pesci wearing those terrible fake eyebrows. Knoll. BBBBBBRRRRAAAABBBH. It gives me the heeby jeebies.
2 Fast 2 Furious (2003)
USA 5:00 p.m.
Oof, that's rugged. Talk about a rough trade. They ought to pay me to watch this steamer.
Sunday, October 9
KUSI 3:00 p.m.
One hobby of mine is assigning collective nouns to dirty words. A collective noun is something that describes a group of things, usually animals. Like a murder of crows or a parliament of owls. Right now I'm using "swing" to name an assembly of "assholes" and a "cartel of pelt" to describe a batch of girls in a pickup bar.
Monday, October 10
ABC 10:00 a.m.
Frankly, I'd rather French kiss a baboon.
Tuesday, October 11
Tremors 4: The Legend Begins (2004)
USA 5:00 p.m.
Who knew there were four Tremors movies? Let's take a conservative stab and say that each of them cost five million dollars. According to my calculation, that's eight gazillion dollars. Couldn't somebody have spared five grand from the budget and bought me a motorcycle instead? I mean, who really would have noticed?
Wednesday, October 12
C.I.A. II: Target Alexa (1994)
SHOTOO 3:05 p.m.
I have a theory that the illegal drug trade is propped up by the government to sustain the hat industry. Not the cap industry, which has sports like baseball and football to keep it running in the black. But, the hat industry. Cowboy. Derby. Floppy. Nobody wears a hat until they're really mangled on a head full of drugs. Except(!) old men. Think about it. Not only are the president and his cabinet oilmen and defense contractor men, but they are also HAT men! The CIA pumps cocaine into Hillcrest because there are hat shops there. I'm not making this up.
Thursday, October 13
World Series of Poker 2005
ESPN2 5:00 p.m.
I have been watching nothing but gambling shows. You know what that means. VEGAS, BABY! YEAH! Boy, am I going to get really wasted and offensive this weekend. My publisher better stand by with bail money or I'll have to talk to the jail librarian about checking out a typewriter and a TV Guide .