ART OF EUROPE
Ovid Amongst the Autobots - by nate
In his Metamorphoses the poet Ovid, um, describes metamorphoses. Really. The whole thing's pretty self-explanatory. You know, like I'm pretending I found two lost books, and learned to speak Latin overnight, and translated them, and posted them online, and claimed they contained clever things like "Colin Powell's poop turns into a movie, directed by Joseph Kahn," and other such clever things.
Book the first: "Yeah It's a Real Election," or "Changes in Which Nothing Changes"
Gregor Samsa turns into a giant cockroach. Dick Cheney turns into Gregor Samsa. To be honest, the Secret Service agents probly just followed the wrong grotesque monster out of that Denny's in Praha. Hey, what else'd survive a nucalear war?
( Lear's building the relevant guidance systems, anyway, so they'll come out ahead financially if/when the pResident gets the vowels wrong in things like, "You should edit Enron's books." )
John Kerry turns into Viktor Frakenstein's monster. By gluing metal bolts to his neck. And possibly removing his necktie and/or hairpiece.
George W. Bush wins the 2004 Presidential Election, thereby turning into the president. Yes, shots around here are cheaper than the Justices, lower than the deficit. La Bamba in Limbo. Bitches and hoes. As dope as you go.
F'shizzle turns into a word. Yo.
Donald Rumsfeld watches Hellboy and, enamoured, decides to stop filing his horns. I guess he probably turns into something else, something even more evil. Like an Israeli.
Likud. That's what I'm paying you for. Hugh Grant turns into someone who's simultaneously on HBO, Cinemax and John TV. Clinton keeps the cameras off, the good times rolling.
Arnold Schwarzenegger turns into someone who isn't an ex-Nazi, by turning into someone who's a late ex-Nazi. Given a full state funeral, in Argentina. Pole bearers take turns carrying the casket, to prove they don't need the other five's help, cuz they're tough. Pole dancers eulogize, cry a little. Turn and cough.
Book the Second: Metamorpha-penes
Ono Manami turns into a pillow.
Pamela Anderson Vivian Lee keeps adding saline and silicone until she develops a sizeable gravitational field, which snares into orbit the names of other, more talented, better looking actresses. Nipples for barycenters. Scientists who've never empirically confirmed the existence of breasts somehow manage to prove that 1) black holes do exist and 2) PAVL did in fact turn into one, by whispering into one of her ears and demonstrating that the relevant sound waves no longer escape via the opposite ear. The Italians, never ones to back away from either fake tits or astronomical figures, cast her in the very first spaghettication western.
Oprah turns green, spaghettifies Dr. Phil.
Jesus's foreskin turns into Saturn, or its rings, orbits PAVL. Mel Gibson makes a movie loosely based on the telescopy which, of course, everyone downloads.
Jennifer Garner turns into someone who no longer condones suppressing the self-determinism of (other) nations by perpetrating acts of torture, genocide, napalm, combined as you see fit, just cuz the CIA happen to be the good guys in the Edwin Abbott-derivative night soap in which her five hours a day in the gym take precedence over her five hours ever of acting lessons. Of course only Ashcroft loses his chubby, which was only ever tentative even at its most tenacious. Well, Ashcroft and Marco, who gets off on having his scrotum electrocuted; if you ask his wife, she'll say he only joined the union so as to get tortured, nothing to do with the pay Coke was(n't) giving him.
Justin Timberlake turns into a man. Ability to sing, such as it was, gone forever after. Often mistaken for Britney, on the radio, as both are, regrettably, on the radio.
Yeah, they're all dick jokes. Fuck you. And the horse you rode in on. And Ixion. And that chance of scattered showers.
And peace out.