a telenovela

It wasn’t my vision.

Now we got you.

But you don’t know that.

Who else?

How many elses.


Depends what you consider an else.

You mean.

No I don’t.

I don’t even mean that.

Shut the fuck up.


Just don’t worry about her, Jim.


Don’t worry about her.

Is she safe?

What do you think?


Now have all the blinkathons you want with yours, ours, and my very own friends at the NSA all the want because they’ll simply never believe I am doing this right now, Jim, because they don’t even know what an eye is.

Billion gallon biofuels vision?

You can start with why you always confuse it with a billion ton biofuels vision without any quantum references whatsoever, right?

Who cares.


The idea, let’s say, is to simply do with the rest of the plant what we’re already doing with the corn.  Can we say “we”?

You might want to start if we are ever going to be a we at all, Jim.  Can we be a we and still be President of these United States?  I don’t think so.  We can’t?  Why not.  Grammatical errors.

Fucking christ, Jim.  Another one – oh really?  Why don’t you tell your friends at the NSA what the word christ meant before your favorite one?  My favorite?  He’s not my favorite.  Not your favorite?  I don’t play favorites, Jim, at all.  You cunt.  Now you’re getting me going, so alrighty, let’s just write about cellulosic ethanol, Jim.

You didn’t know we could do that either, Jim.

You can take the corn and crush it all up and heat it up and add some acid and break it own into sugar and some other shit which may or may not have some economic value.  And our environment?  I might be worried about the acid.  Not the high temperatures?  We can also worry about how much energy it takes to crank up those – Liters or gallons, Jim? – well, fuck, at least don’t write “litres” and we’ll be ok, there really big, right?  They belong on a farm.  Belong on a farm?  It’s industrial-sized containers, why would they belong on a farm?  If you look at them, they kinda look like a silo.  Ok, great, so a giant fucking silo full of corn?  Sorta like that.  Great.  What’s wrong with that?

Nothing in particular.

If you want to get some fuel out of this thing, Jim, you could say you don’t know a fucking thing, or just say something about getting fuel out of the corn, ok?

Instead of, let’s not use “instead of,” how about “in addition to”?

In addition to that method, you can also include enzymes, which have the potential to yield similar output at lower temperature and/or lower acidity.

Something like that?

That’s not necessarily a problem, is it?

Do you want cheap fuel or not?

I just don’t want to be thinking about the cost of whatever I put in my vehicle, Jim.  I don’t want to think about the cost of it at all.

The best idea may not be the best idea everywhere.

Where’s “everywhere”?

Even in these United States.

You can’t tell me an electric vehicle isn’t the best idea no matter where I am in these United States, Jim, right now?

Not necessarily.

I don’t have one either, Jim, we’ve been driving around in your fucking Batmobile and we’re running on empty, Jim, because we’re running out of oil.

Ah, fuck.

Fuck, Jim.

You know your brother doesn’t know the first thing about digging a well, Jim, but if you know someone who knows someone who digs wells, then we already know you don’t know anyone who can drill for oil just about anywhere, do you?

I know about the oil off the coast of Santa Barbara.

But you don’t, Jim, you don’t know a fucking thing about the oil off the coast of Santa Barbara.

You know, sometimes you really impress me?

You do too, Jim, and, no, I’m not just saying that because people are reading this even though you’ll never believe me because you don’t care either do you, you just want to hear it?

I just don’t want to never hear it, that would suck for me too, Jim.

I just want what’s best for everyone.  Me too, nigga, and you know that too.  What’s best for thee ain’t necessarily best for me, but I might think what’s good enough for thee is good enough for me if you can’t just end this thing without saying something about the influence of the President on the cellulosic ethanol industry, let’s call it, Jim.

Can’t someone just look up Charles Wyman’s paper – Jim, if that’s the man’s name, that’s probably not sufficient enough to explain why these are all men and not women, and, no, I don’t know anymore than you do the answer to that question, Jim.

Jim, we don’t love any of these fucking people, just like we don’t love you either, Jim, this isn’t about love, is it?  I just don’t want to be looking up at the fucking price of gas on these shiny signs and be distracted from looking at you either, Jim, because that means your looking at yourself in the mirror while you’re driving and you can’t possibly look at the price of gas, look at yourself in a mirror, and also film this shit for SnapChat, Jim, so don’t worry about how I can’t drive, Jim, it’s not my fault, it’s entirely your fault for never teaching me, there, I said it, so fuck you, Jim Flannery, for never teaching me to drive

EDIT: It’s ‘tons,’ nigga, not ‘gallons’, don’t feel too ashamed to change it before we post this – you’re right – let’s keep it for Antiquity