Stream of Subconscience

I was driving through Chinatown at a very trafficky hour when I had to pull over to fiddle with the settings on my camera. While I was pulled over an Asian man got into the back seat and sat there looking at me. "Erm... can I help you?" I asked him, and he indicated in a thick almost incomprehensible accent, but otherwise perfect English diction, that he was determining that what I was doing warranted my pulling over here--he was some sort of vigilante traffic enforcer. Then he got into the driver's seat, released the brake, and got out. As the car crept forward I scrambled to stop it but was too late and hit the back of an old car of unrecognizable make and model that was stopped at the intersection. It was driven by a rotund middle-aged man who had the outward appearance of being one of those specialty sects of Judaism: Hasidic, or Orthodox, or something, I can't tell. I tried to mime an apology and explain that the Chinaman did it, over the din of traffic and the honks of angy motorists. He made some flustered gesture and turned left onto a side street. I tried to follow him, but got stuck at the light. When I got through his car was nowhere to be seen. The side street was empty, so I pulled over to the side to finish my fiddling, but suddenly there was a fire truck behind me honking to get through. So I drove on into what was now a seemingly abandoned industrial area looking for somewhere to make a U-turn. The inbound side of the street was 1-lane narrow, but it appeared that the other side had room to stop. I ended up turning around in what appeared to be the lobby of an office of some multi-function firm, where--in addition to their experimentation with architectural design--it appeared Johnny Knoxville and his agent where negotiating some sort of deal for the next Jackass movie. The negotiations were not going well, and culminated in Johnny and agent walking out in protest. Two yet-unknown would-be stars of the imperiled film saw their shot at stardom walking out the door with Knoxville and gave pursuit on their skateboards; apparently under the impression that the victor of a skateboard-off could compel the loser to do his bidding. One of the challengers, whose name I don't know but will for expedience call Jack Asswan, stepped up with a complicated backwards upside-down something-or-other along a high rock ledge overlooking some body of water in Central Park. Things were going well until his overly baggy apparel got caught on a snag, causing them to be ripped off and him to lose control. He barreled, naked, uncontrollably, down a slope, across a service road causing an auto accident between a fire truck and an old car of unrecognizable make and model, and plummeted into the water below. Here he was attacked by alligators of extraordinary size and orneriness, but found himself sheltered--albeit cornered and impermanently--in a rock crevice from the snapping jaws of the largest and meanest reptilian. A rescue fire boat was unable to ward off the croc, but--and this part gets a little fuzzy--Jack was saved by a very hot blonde biologist who happened to be in the vicinity. During questioning, flashback style, it was revealed that the biologist, dissatisfied with her income as a legitimate biologist, had been harvesting giant squid semen from the giant squid that apparently co-habitate with the dangerous crocodiles in this body of water in Central Park. Apparently giant squid semen could be sold on the black market as an aphrodisiac, or miracle cure, or something. Her method involved allowing herself to be ensnared in the male squid's tentacle grasp, and as it drew her in to constrict its victim to death she would reach for its penis as only someone in such a position could, and only someone with such anatomical knowledge could identify this appendage, virtually indistinguishable from the others. She would then begin to stimulate the beast manually and, on occasion, orally. The euphoria would cause the animal to loosen its grip and expose a large sac filled with squid semen in preparation for ejaculation. Just before climax she would slit the sac and tap the squid jizz as the both sated and injured squid slinked away. On her last encounter with a particularly large and virile specimen the alpha male still had some fight left in him after being milked and continued to throttle. It has seemed her idiomatic goose had been cooked... had it not been for a half naked jackass and his skateboard falling from the sky in the nick of time and knocking out the weakened squid.

1. What does this dream mean?
2. Would this qualify as a Moth entry?
3. How do I know so much about illegal giant squid semen harvesting?


Oolongian Tips & Tricks: Ways to Create a Super Persona...

... that will not bore us into a coma.

A. Heroize an Extant Costume.
Take a costume you already have, add a typical superhero/villain mask, boots, and over-underwear, append "Super" to the name, and Ta-dah! Super Slutty Nurse!

B. Mod a Stock Costume.
Take a common standard character and modify it.
e.g. Get a cheap Spiderman costume (from Ricky's), add Jew hat and Jew sideburns... Isaac Spiderman (SPEE-der-muhn.)

C. Superfy a Characteristic.
Pick something you are known for, would *like* to be known for, or consider yourself to embody, exaggerate it and build an identity around that.
For example, perhaps you are of Italian descent, have a penchant for Italian sparkling wine, some sort of insider connection to an Italian restaurant in SoHo, and own 2 luxury sports cars... Mr. Italy! Weapons: Prosecco. Transport: Ferraris. Lair: I Tre Merli
Perhaps you are a rough-and-tumble sort who loves college fraternity-style parties that pay tribute to Classical Roman hedonism... Toga Man!
Or perhaps you own 2 more rabbits than the average for a Downtown Manhattan apartment-dweller... The Bunnymaster