The Rossman's California Dreams and Adventures
(page 3: Johnny Wanna Live!!)

After I got bored fucking up the landscape I decided to fuck up some minds. Mostly mine, if I could help it. I went to an animal show that had lots of caged and black & blue monkeys and squirrels that were forced to entertain us easily impressed humans under penalty of death or being forced to watch The Fast and the Furious five times in a row with their mouths sewn shut so that they couldn't even scream in pain or puke. I was enjoying myself a lot for a while there, but then the show began. They had a bird fly over us and crap on a little girl in the front row. A dog fetched a stick. An alligator ate a cat (I applauded that one but it wasn't part of the official act). And a monkey did some cart wheels. If it wasn't for that monkey I would have flipped my gourd and ripped up a few small, furry aminals with my bare hands like William Shatner when they forget his danish before a T. J. Hooker shoot. That monkey should get a medal or something. He saved LOTS of innocent and stupid creatures' lives. Well, for at least a few minutes. I did manage to lock a few up in the Scientology church behind the animal refuge. I had originally wanted them to get brainwashed by some of the major fuck-ups in Hollywood who believe that the dude who wrote Battlefield Earth was a literary genius, but later I found out that I threw the animals in the building during a service and John Travolta and Tom Cruise bit the heads off of all the puppies and parrots while chanting to their evil Lord. If only I had access to those security tapes they'd probably bag more than the Tommy Lee and Pam Anderson sex videos....

Hi!  My name is Bobo!  I like to climb on things!  Anybody got a banana?  Eek eek!!

Mr. Bobo had a lot of growing up to do. He thought that it was beyond hilarious when I got plastered by his flung monkey poop. Let me reinforce my thoughts on the matter. Monkey giblets are only funny when they rains down on Jimmy Jammer or other annoying fat and ugly people. I am never one to say "Hey! Ha ha ha! That monkey hit me with his crap right when I had my mouth open! Ha ha ha! That is funny!" Mr. Bobo learned a hard lesson that day. He payed the ultimate price for his comedic ingenuity. The same price that the Hindenburg, Pearl Harbor and Leonardo DiCaprio paid!!! An early retirement and a fizzing sound of the life and career getting sucked out of them.

I then hit the beach. Well, technically I suppose it's still considered a "beach". The sand there is made up of used hypodermic needles, disguarded liposucsion droppings and dead bodies though. The sea water is basically an anti-primordial soup mix now too. The scientific term is "acid". There were lots of mutants running around trying to act like real peoples, but if you just leave the locals alone they won't bother you. I gave some beach bum a corn dog that made me puke (Hey, he was homeless. Pukey food is just as good as non-pukey food to them folks). He used it to stab a cop with though and then there was a huge beach-chase scene that ended like the one with Gummi in the first Fletch movie. Except the cop and the homeless dude killed each other and then a chick with a mohawk set the pier on fire and we roasted marshmallows and kittens for a few hours.

After that I grabbed a cab back to my hotel that was driven by a skinny Gandhi-dude who only knew how to accelerate, brake and flick off other asshole drivers angrily in his own language... I found it very "un-passive resistence" to tell you the truth. We were then stuck in the unending afternoon to evening to dawn traffic jam that surrounds all of Southern California. LA actually has more traffic then Sung Hi Lee's hot and free website*!! But it's not 1/4th as fun and sexy.

I got back to my hotel and then headed on over to the Universal City Walk for a late dinner. I got drunk at the Hard Rock Cafe and pissed on John Lennon's glasses only to be thrown out for the third year in a row. I walked the City Walk for a bit, got some free Haagen Dazs after performing some favors for a few of the soda jerkettes behind the counter and then I went shirt shopping. Every year I try to find the coolest and most obnoxious shirt available in all of California to wear to E3, and every year I top the previous. This time I thought that I had found the ULTIMATE shirt... But it only came in a size "medium". It was an awesome sight to behold too. All of the girlies would have been mine to command had I but had this shirt in my possession. It was a bright orange cotton T-shirt with Mr. T's head front and center with the words "I PITY THE FOOL!" emblazoned above it. I would have been the pimp-daddy of all white guys at the convention if they only had an XL. Sonovabeetch!! I ended up just getting a nifty Storm Shadow Hawaiian shirt instead. It was cool and all, but Storm Shadow never beat up Rocky or starred in D.C. Cab.

While at the beach I saw a bunch of natives having a fish bar-b-que on the sand. It looked entertaining and vulgar so I decided to self invite myself. They had lots of big fishes hoisted up on ropes and they seemed to be de-gutting them in search of a small child that had disappeared in the surf earlier in the day. I was dancing all around a makeshift bonfire I had put together trying to get the god of tuna to make me a sandwich out of the biggest fishy they had strung up. Soon, for one reason or another, I began punching, kicking and farting on the giant beast while the authorities were looking at the license plates and puppets that came out of the last manta ray they carved up. I must have gone one juicy one too many though for in the blink of an eye I was playing the part of Pinnochio in the belly of the alligator. The gilled many-toothed thing was still alive and kicking and eating. I only got out when I started blindly stabbing around with my machete like those jungle people at the end of Apocalypse Now when they were working that cow. The good news is I got out of the monster's stomach with only a few minor pieces of flesh missing and I found the kid that everybody was looking for. The bad news is I cut the boy up worse than the shark in my berserker blind Canadian Rage of escapement. I blamed the whole thing on violence on television and was interviewed on Jay Leno later that day because of my heroics.... Well, that happened except for Jay Leno was played by a police officer and he didn't so much interview me as arrest me and beat me up with a street sign.

The shark in Jaws 2 looked more real than this plastic piece of shite!

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