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Tonight, on Extreme Weapons Amnesty -- "The potato gun discharges into the sergeant's left buttock, leaving forty-nine potatoes in the magazine." Tonight, on Extreme Throwing Crap -- "A green apple is thrown into a YMCA snack bar by a 15 year-old boy, causing the manager, a high school hall monitor, to squirt ketchup all over his beard." Tonight, on Extreme Third Nipple -- "A fringe religious leader explains that the sabbath cannot begin until the third nipple has been revealed." Tonight, on Extreme Army Trapped on an Isthmus -- "The Vikings slay some and levy higher taxes on others." Tonight, on Extreme Weapons Amnesty: Michigan -- "A pickup truck arrives at the checkpoint with a gatling gun and numchucks." Tonight, on Extreme Pregnant Pause -- "A newlywed couple discovers a flaming bowel movement on the front stoop of their historic duplex." Tonight, on Extreme Are You Jewish? -- "The season finale; a winner is declared; the pawnshop business is awarded; Laren Bacall is remembered." Tonight, on Extreme Quincy Reruns: "Fujiyama jumps out of a closet; Quincy solves the case; Lauren Bacall is remembered." Tonight, on Extreme Probing -- "George Stephanopoulos discusses Xbox 'George Stephanopoulos' game."

VLAD THE ENPALER.

Victims / The Enpaled

The reputation of Vlad the Impaler, the famous Wallachian philanthropist, had gotten just so, he didn't need to Impale any longer -- well, now and again, heh heh heh -- since his proximity effectively Enpaled his victims. They would blanche. They would whiten. They removed themselves to The Pale of Settlement. Contests ensued and some were pronounced Pale by Comparison. What else can one do in The Pale of Settlement, afterall, but drink Pale Ale and beget Pale Stool, all the doings of Vlad the Enpaler. Vlad, which is short for Vladislaus, which, in Wallachian, translates to He Who Fondles of Vlasic Dillweed & Cole Slaus, then turned toward cheeseboarding as a means of extracting a confession. He once cheeseboarded a Dom DeLuise-looking Homey for three days -- the man, placed on a wooden board, had cheese rubbed all over his face -- until the Dom DeLuise-looking Homey confessed. Subsequent attempts to Cheeseburger a confession only triumphed in the Americas. Those, in the States, who caught a glimpse of Vladislaus, bought Impalas. Beige ones. It was undercover Americans, though, dressed as Syrians, yo, who applied SPF in his presence. He only caught on, did Vlad, when they ordered Fetish salads, hold the onions, with Wild Ass Toosh, when real Syrians would order Fettoosh, with onions, hold the Ass. "I tried to become a kinder Impaler," wrote Vladislaus, in his memoir, My Tippus, "but for the Americans, I would've ceased Impaling altogether, and now, I shall Impale afresh."

POSTMODERN TENTACLE LITURGY.

Donkey in the air is Tentacle.

He who spends too much time focused on Tentacle is a sucker, Gran'daddy always used to say. More and more Tentacle washing ashore each morning, though, cause of Al Gore. Tent plus pinnacle = the nipple of the octopus. A man squeezes a woman's nipple, a woman squeezes a man's nipple, only amongst primates. Go ahead, but if you pinch octopus nipple you will be in world of suction. Don't forget to catch Antique Tentacle Roadshow and play that game "Disappointed" / "Not Disappointed" when Tentacle is evaluated by Postmodern Paddle Wackers. Some folks think they have antique Tentacle and are disappointed when the appraisal is low whereas some people think they have modest Tentacle when it turns out they have very valuable Tentacle, and are elated, to say the least. The same Tentacle -- chopped high and chopped low -- has sat in the Thai Knot sushi prep area for years, rotated, every so often, by a sushi chef in a white mushroom cap. That's how Tentacle matures. Unless it's bottled and Put Up. I wouldn't turn down a bottle of Tentacle 12 Year Single Brine, but that's me. A tired octopus is a Spentacle whereas a gladiator cephalopod is a Spartacus. The Mongols, when they ran out of Tentacle, would catapault their own slain comrades -- especially those festering with the bubonic death -- into the citadels of their enemies. "Incoming Tentacle!" the sentries would shout, at first, until they saw a dead Mongol fly into their camp. "Incoming!" they would shout, instead, or "Mongol!" until it became commonplace, all those Besiegers flying through the air, and the sentries quit shouting, quit their posts, quit the citadels, but failed to notify their adversaries, who kept launching their mates in broad arcs.

WHEN HARRY MET HARPO.

Truman Appoints His Secretary of Strings, Horns & Whistles

Do you have a lot of dust in your apartment? Because what dust is -- it's human skin. So what you really have is lots of human skin in your apartment. "I have just eaten an exhibition of paintings," said the Bohemian glutton, artfully. Get it? There is no such thing as "art" anyhow. Claiming otherwise is just an Insanity Pretense. The goslings resemble rabbits and the mimic thrasher nips the crow in the pooper. Why do you have so much human skin in your apartment? When I say "apart/ment" I do not imply that you suffer from irreparable separation. "C'mon, let's get this procedure over with," the sick man said, impatiently. Get it? There is a fine line between Rapture and Rupture, although the latter can follow from an experience with the former. Nobody hails from that venerable American town, Vaudeville, anymore, our presidents no longer seek wise counsel from yonder, and nobody, in recent memory, has been caught holding the mute's leg, a tragedy.

SQUID PRONE QUOTA.

The effects of too much Applause.

If someone takes your Vitals, make sure to get them back. There is a highly profitable Black Market for Vital Signs these days. A good pulse can be traded for ethnic and ethical fish, alike, whereas a good blood pressure can be sold for Upward Mobility. Don't let them take your Vittles, either. He who is convicted of Appetizer Theft is a Convictual, and those who get pinched more than once, come to be known as Habitual Convictuals. Therefore, if they take your calamari, they're taking your squid, if they sell your calamari, they're getting Quid on your squid, proving, thereby, that "British slang" is, at best, redundant. If, therefore, Herman Melville first conceived of a peglegged captain who chased a giant tentacled beast, but realized he wouldn't earn enough Quid on his squid, he then conceived of a peglegged captain, Mobility Dick, who beat the odds simply by stumping around the Poopdeck. The title of Melville's nautical novel pingponged for years between "Poop Dick" "Dick Poop" "Dick" "Deck" "Dick Deck" and "Deck Poop" before a European Music Star inspired the header as we know it, Moby Dick, a techno-loving Private Eye who scours the sea for a bigoted whale. Beware Applause. No, no, no, should you stand too close to Applause, the bang of the palm against palm, you, too, could catch The Clap. Beware Applause. Signs of The Clap include spontaneous Applause, Applause not-called-for, belligerent applause, plausible applesauce cravings, and Pause. There are, in fact, the Seven Horsemen of the Clap, you can always tell the approach of their steeds by the clopclap, clopclap of their shoes. At that point, there will be little left to do but laud and applaud, for the Madness will be, like, Tentacles in the Tabernacle.

TAKEOUT BAKEOUT.

Think "Textiles" When You Crave a Doobie.

Say "Drugs" to "No" and "Narcotics" to "Nah" and "Dope" to "Nope." What time you got? The time is Now. We cannot, as a Society, separate. We cannot separate (the) State from Salt, (the) Lick from Bone, (the) Dry from Park, (the) Avenue from Light, (the) House from God, and so forth. Can you batch?, we know you can botch, can you butcher, as in slaw?, can you dozen the alternatives?, can you batch? Can you bundle?, we know you can bandy, can you bindle, as in slaw?, can you dozen the alternatives?, can you clump? What time you got at Five past Five? To empower the Trick Question please press "1" on your Rotary Phone. Beware, though. The empowered Trick Question may ask you, trick you, task you, ask. An empowered Trick Question, par example, once interrogated an entire office full of Fraud Investigators, investors, gators, and Frauds, with some slippery Freudian trickery: What time you got at Five past Five? Can you knot?, we know you can knit, can you gnat, as in slaw?, can you dozen the alternatives, can you batch? Say "Dope" to "Nope" if you can separate, and if you can separate, please press "1" on your rotary phone.

HUMANITY IS A-TORSO.

Don't let the math do you.

You cannot call a dead bee a bee. You may call a dead bee a "was" because it certainly doesn't be anything, anymore, aside from a chitinous skeptic. Similarly, a deposed strongman may have a roof over his head but no Despot to piss in, or does that refer to the triumphant Putsch-man, instead? Coups come in all forms, though in one sense, the song of the dove is, therefore, a contradiction. "Coup Coup," sayeth the dove, who otherwise queued for peace. If it were not queue, but skew, then professional standers-in-wait would be Skewers, whether they stilted the curve, or not. Sewers are a sore spot for so-so sowers, go-go goers who gore the gawkers. In the Gawkery. Patron asked Server in Foreign Restaurant for Curry Favor but Server informed Patron that Curry Favor was now Felony. "In these times" or Thereabouts. Which is shorthand for Fisticuffs all around. Which is shorthand for Clenched in Shirtsleeves, light on the Starch Your Own Habits Tat. That which waffled in an apiary could be termed a Bee That As It May, its flanks a Bee Hind, its hive a hairdo, its humanity a-torso, Coup Coup Ka Chew. Putsch your Funny where your Mouth is, Putsch me and I'll Putsch you back, Jack!