The Literary Revolution!

The Literary Revolution: Neo-SocialRealism

Posted on January 18, 2012 by Wolf Larsen

That Foul Smell on the Waterfront
a short story by Wolf Larsen

(I worked as a longshoreman for 10 years. This story is based on an actual experience. There is one big difference between this story and reality: in reality the dialogue would contain four letter words in nearly every sentence.)

It was a pretty normal day. We were working a 12 hour shift in a 10° below zero F (25° below zero C) freezer hold in a cargo ship in the port of Dutch Harbor, Alaska. We were grabbing 40 pound boxes of frozen fish off the pallets and stacking them in rows up to the ceiling over our heads. It was 3 ton per hour per man minimum. The shipping company wanted the ships stored by hand to get a tighter stow, to get more cargo in the ships and make more money.

It was a normal day except something didn’t smell right.
“What’s with this smell?” asked the new guy.
“Wolf, did you fart again?” asked a fat guy laughing.
“No,” said the new guy, “this ain’t no fart. It’s the fish we’re loading. It doesn’t smell right!”
“Oh that,” responded the fat guy. “Yeah, smells like the fish has gone bad. Probably got defrosted one way or another.”

There were about half-a-dozen of us working together on that hatch gang. We could talk as we worked because it didn’t matter what we did above the neck as long as our bodies kept working.

“BUT AREN’T PEOPLE GOING TO GET SICK?!” blurted out the new guy.
“Yeah, probably…” said the fat guy sadly.
“WELL WE NEED TO DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT THEN!” practically yelled the new guy.

A co-worker nicknamed “Scotty” (who was actually from Wales) laughed at the new guy. His laughter seem to say “boy are you naïve!”
“I worked on fishing boats before this, I know when something’s wrong with the fish. The people who eat this fish are gonna get sick!” exclaimed new guy.

Another coworker, who was from south-central LA, said: “Okay. The fish is bad. People are going to get sick. But what can we do about it?”

There was silence for a little bit as everybody kept putting the boxes of frozen fish one on top of the other row after row. It was the kind of job you never got used to. It was the kind of job that was so physically hard you felt 20 years older than your actual age while working. It was the kind of job where in the early part of the shift you weren’t quite sure if you could make it to the end of the shift. It was the kind of job where you wished you are dead. But you knew eventually the shift would end… I did it for 10 years.

Then the pallet was empty. A new load of frozen fish was brought by the “winches” (a type of crane) into the hold. The new load stank as bad as the last load. Something was definitely very wrong.

“HEY!” yelled out the new guy to the foreman who was standing up there on the deck two stories above us watching us work and not really doing anything except giving us the same old mean ugly expression he always did, but that’s what he was paid to do.

The foreman ignored the new guy, but maybe it wasn’t deliberate, maybe behind the mask of the same old miserable mean expression, he may not have been really paying attention, and may have been having a sexual fantasy at that moment, and thus may not have heard the greenhorn say “HEY!”.

As we landed the 2 ton load of “frozen” fish on a huge roller and began trying to push the #@^%#@% roller (it got a little easier when it started rolling) the greenhorn began yelling up at the foreman.

“HEY, THIS FISH IS BAD. I WORKED ON FISHING BOATS I KNOW. THIS FISH IS NOT FROZEN. IT THAWED OUT A LONG TIME AGO. IT SMELLS! IT DOESN’T SMELL RIGHT! PEOPLE ARE GOING TO GET SICK WHEN THEY EAT THIS!”

As he yelled up at the foreman most of the other coworkers (except Wolf and a few others) had amused expressions on their faces. They pushed & pushed & pushed until the roller began moving and they began pushing the 2 ton load towards the stack of fish. They would repeat this process over and over until the giant hold of the ship was filled.

“WORK AS DIRECTED!” yelled back the foreman.
The greenhorn turned us and asked, “What does that mean?”
“It means get your butt over here and help us unload this smelly fish!” said the fat guy.
“But the people who eat this fish are going to get sick! I worked with fish before – ”
“Dude,” said Scotty interrupting him. “Nobody here wants to unload this fish. We all know something’s wrong. But there’s nothing we can do about it!”

The greenhorn joined us and began stacking the boxes of frozen fish. As he worked he asked, “But what about the union? If we refuse to offload this rancid fish won’t the union back us up?”
“Nope!” said the fat guy.
“Isn’t there some kind of government agency that we could call?”
The others greeted this with laughter, except Wolf.
Wolf said, “I’ve tried the government. It’s useless. If you go to the government about anything management will punish you.”
The greenhorn said, “But isn’t that against the law? Aren’t there laws to protect whistleblowers?”
The others laughed again.
Wolf answered, “It doesn’t matter. Management will punish you if you go to the government. One way or another management will get revenge. And when management punishes you the government won’t back you up.”
“How do you know?” Asked the greenhorn.
“I went to the NLRB about something. You know, the National Labor Relations Board? They might as well call it the national bosses relations board, because they’re the ones running it. Trust me greenhorn, going to the government is a mistake.”
The fat guy said, “I told you not to go the NLRB, Wolf. But you didn’t listen to me.”
“If the fish didn’t open up their mouths they wouldn’t get caught,” said Scotty.

“What if I called the boss? What if I got his number and called the boss of the stevedoring company we’re working for?”
“Forget about it,” said Arturo a Mexican immigrant. “It’s 2 AM. He’s sleeping. You wake him up he’ll take you to disciplinary committee.”
“Disciplinary committee? What’s that?!” asked the greenhorn.
“That’s when you assume the position! All the management representatives get a turn!” blurted out the fat guy laughing.

“I’m going to call the union then!” proclaimed the greenhorn.
Scotty, Arturo, and the fat guy shook their heads. Some of the others laughed.
“The union will just tell you to work as directed,” said the fat guy. “The union is not going to back you up.”
“Don’t you guys have any friends out here?” Asked the greenhorn.
“Nope,” said the fat guy. “Nobody besides each other.”
Arturo agreed, “We have each other, and that’s all we got.”

The fat guy said, “It’s good to have the union, don’t get me wrong. But it’s run by a bunch of sellouts who are always kissing management’s ass. But you’re lucky there’s a union. Because if there wasn’t one you’d be out of a job soon enough, just for complaining to the foreman about the fish. They’d find some excuse to fire you. But you’re okay. You can complain sometimes and get away with it because it’s a union job”

“Doesn’t do any good to complain,” said the guy from south-central LA. “It’s just like Scotty said, ‘If the fish didn’t open up their mouths they’d never get caught in the first place.”
“Fuck this job! This is my last shift!” said the new guy.

Nobody joked about anything for the rest of the shift, which was very unusual. For the rest of the shift not a single word was spoken. Everyone had miserable expressions on their faces for the rest of the 12 hour shift. Not a single man in that hold wanted to offload that rancid fish. But what could we do?

Copyright 2011 by Wolf Larsen. Advance permission is given to anyone wishing to publish and/or distribute this work to do so as long as no alterations are made to the work, credit is given to the author, and the intent of such publication and/or distribution is not hostile.

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GENERAL STRIKE by Wolf Larsen

Posted on January 9, 2012 by Wolf Larsen

GENERAL STRIKE, or an American abroad
a short story by Wolf Larsen
(Based on a personal experience)

He woke up. Where was he? The sun was out already! It’s so quiet…
He looked around him, he was in a cheap hotel room. What was he doing here? Oh yeah he remembered – he was on vacation traveling in another country. He looked at his watch. “Jesus!” he exclaimed. It was late, after 10 AM!

He showered and put on some clothes and started heading out of the hotel when the proprietor said, “Nothing’s open! There’s a General Strike! ” The way the proprietor said it was as if the word “General Strike” was such a big thing it might as well be in capitals.
As the American walked out of the hotel and onto the sidewalk he thought, “Huh! General Strike?”
Then the American suddenly stopped walking and stood still. He looked around him. He was in the center of town and everything was closed. There was nobody in the streets. There were no cars. Everything was empty. It was so quiet…

Just yesterday this very street had been a chaos of noise and passerby and music from all the open shops and there had been endless cars moving back-and-forth honking their horns and taxicab drivers yelling out “Taxi! Taxi!” But now there was nobody. There was nothing.

“So this is a General Strike!” thought the American. Being an American the only general strikes he knew were the ones in history books. He had never seen a general strike with his own eyes before.

Fascinated, he walked on. Just yesterday the sidewalks had been so full of people and vendors that at times he felt annoyed at how crowded everything was. At times, it had been hard to walk it was so crowded! But now it was the exact opposite! It felt so strange!
He began crossing the street, looking both ways. But there were no cars. Just yesterday there had been a traffic jam here. And now nothing, nobody.
He walked block after block through what yesterday where endless crowds and noise. And now nothing. Incredible…
Since there were no cars seen he started walking in the middle of the street. It was like he was in the middle of some weird sci-fi movie where the human race had all disappeared and he was only human left on the entire planet walking through some empty city…

Oh wait, there’s some people over there! What’s going on over there?! How strange! People!!
As he walked closer to where the people were he suddenly realized he may have made a mistake. Over there were a whole bunch of policemen – or were they soldiers? – and they were all in riot gear! Jesus Christ! And as he got even closer he realized many of them were looking directly at him! All of them had big sticks in their hands and as his morbid curiosity drew him closer and closer his heart began beating faster and faster.
Then he realized what the cops were standing in front of: they were standing in front of McDonald’s. It was the only business open. Once he was close enough to gaze in the windows the cops or were they soldiers realized that he was a foreigner, and that he was not a part of their conflict, so they eyed him only with a cautious disinterest. Inside the McDonald’s he could see it was almost empty, there was virtually nobody else besides the employees, who stood around with nothing to do.

He decided to go back to the hotel. He took a different route back. But everything was the same. Empty. No cars. No nothing. No people. Just a vast empty city with block after block of shuttered stores.
As he walked he began to feel a tremendous source of triumph. As if the struggle of the working people in this country was his struggle too. After all, wasn’t he a worker just like them? He smiled a great big smile!

When he got back to the hotel the owner’s wife was also happy. She fixed him something to eat and more importantly some coffee. She was so nice.
He sat there watching the television set in the common area. (There were no television sets in the rooms.) On the television set it was all about the general strike: in city after city across the nation the camera showed empty streets and shuttered stores and closed factories. The only people on the streets where the cops or were they soldiers with their big thick sticks in their hands at the ready. But there were no people. There were no people to attack and beat up. Even the streets of the capital of the country were deserted.

The owner’s wife came with some food and more importantly some coffee. She was so happy. “This strike is so good!” she said as she sat down in front of the TV. Her husband, the proprietor of the hotel, also came over to watch the television.
“This is a great victory!” said the wife. “The people are so fed up! All the politicians are crooks. The prices of everything keeps going up, but the wages stay the same! In the public hospitals if you don’t have money for medicines they just let you die! Things are so tough! But the working people have spoken with one voice! Look!” she said as she pointed at the television set with the screen full of empty streets and closed shops and closed factories.
“Yes, very good for the country!” said the husband mockingly but playfully. Everyone is staying home today – so in nine months lots of babies will be born!” he said laughing.
His wife playfully chided him with a light slap on the arm as she said with a smile, “At least it’s something, it’s the beginning of something!”
The husband looked at the television set and said, “It’s something all right, it’s the beginning of something all right. It’s the beginning of lots and lots of babies!” said the husband laughing.

As the American watched the scenes of empty streets on the television he wondered “What if something like this happened in my country? Wouldn’t that be something?! ”
And as the American watched the scenes of empty streets and closed factories and closed shops on the television he thought of empty streets and closed factories and closed shops in his own country from sea to shining sea – everybody just staying home for a day.
“If these people can do it why can’t we?” the American thought.
And as the American thought about that he smiled.

Now playing: Neo-SocialRealism
Diego Rivera! George Grosz! Gustav Klutsis!

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Wolf Larsen Interview: the New Social Realism

Posted on January 2, 2012 by Wolf Larsen

The New Social Realism
An interview with Wolf Larsen
(yes I interviewed myself)

Question: So what’s with this new writing style Wolf?
Wolf Larsen: Partly I was getting tired of my former writing style. It was a blast at first! That run-on sentence that was 70,000 words long written to the beat of Afro-Brazilian drums – that was fun! Writing books that didn’t make any sense like 10,000 Penises in Your Ear, I had fun with that too. That was supposed to be a bizarre novel about a bizarre world where racist CEOs and politicians think they’re God, but the novel became something much more bizarre than that! Then came symphonies written with poetry and then an opera and plays all written in an increasingly jumbled frantic psychotic combination of surrealism, Impressionism, cubism, futurism, and just about everything else all boiling out of the pot like some diseased creation of the mad scientist with a pen. But I got bored with that, so now it’s time for something new.

Question: Well, this new style Wolf seems rather simplistic, no?
Wolf Larsen: Yes, it’s super Hemingway-ish. But anyway I have flirted with a super-blunt super-realism before in the novel Pricks Cunts & Motherfuckers: The Novel about New York City. Even though I have enjoyed playing with all the psychedelic wildness of images procreating on the page like super-powered spermatozoa, I’ve also enjoyed shoving the reader face-first into the excrement filled toilet of reality, or the real world. And I think that is what my latest writing style is.

Question: Does the latest writing style have anything to do with your presidential campaign for 2012?
Wolf Larsen: Absolutely not. This would’ve happened regardless of whether I decided to run for president or not. Besides, as a write-in candidate I know I’m probably the only person that’s going to vote for me. (Laughs).

Question: Undoubtably some people will accuse you of opportunism for having the balls to do something different and interview yourself?
Wolf Larsen: If I had a dollar for every time that I’ve been criticized for doing something different I’d be richer than Warren Buffett by now. I’m basically going to do whatever the hell I want to.

Question: So what prompted this new change in literary style besides wanting to do something new?
Wolf Larsen: Well I was getting bored and going to go in a different direction anyway. However, being in the midst of the Second Great Depression probably has a lot to do with embarking on a road that I might as well call Neo-SocialRealism, although I could just as well call it Super-Hemingway-ism or I could even call it Super-Ball-ism because I’ve got the balls to write whatever I want to.

Question: And where do you think this new style is going?
Wolf Larsen: The hell that I know! Do I look like I got a crystal ball or something?

Question: What did you think of the movie In Time?
Wolf Larsen: That’s a kick ass movie! That’s one of the best movies I’ve seen in a long time! That’s Neo-SocialRealism in a futuristic sci-fi twist. To me that movie seems like a wonderful and very entertaining critique of capitalism. I hate boring! And that movie is not boring for a minute! Even better than the movie In Time however was the Soviet poster art that I saw at the Art Institute in Chicago recently. Of course, not all of it was of equal quality but overall it was outstanding! Although some of it was bad some of it was also very good, and proof that social realism can be a great art form. I think the movie In Time also shows that social realism, even in a futuristic sci-fi context, can be awesome!

Question: But isn’t social realism out of vogue?
Wolf Larsen: Not when you’re in the midst Of the Second Great Depression! And the Second Great Depression is worldwide. So the possibilities of this Neo-SocialRealism is worldwide.

Question: But social realism in people’s minds is linked to Stalinism and to the Stalinist governments of the Soviet Union, China, North Korea, Eastern Europe, and Cuba. And Stalinism appears to be dead.
Wolf Larsen: No doubt Stalinism appears to be dead. And you know as a Trotskyist sympathizer I have absolutely no sympathy for Stalinism. However, I think that Neo-SocialRealism has vast potential precisely because this time around social realism will not be influenced by Stalinist hacks. Stalinism is dead. However, social realism shall be reborn without Stalinism!

Question: But don’t you think that politics and literature should be kept separate?
Wolf Larsen: Look, look at the world around you! Why can’t we write about the world around us?! Why can’t we write about this great human tidal wave of suffering that’s engulfing the world at this very moment! There’s a lot of material out there! You have to be blind not to see it. You’re in the midst of the Second Great Depression, why not write about it? I myself was contemplating my navel before when I wrote all that stuff I talked about before. But at this point in time the real world is far more interesting than anything else. At this point in time, at least for me, the real world is where the story is. The real world is now my inspiration. Others can do as they please.

Question: But what about other writers, poets, painters, sculptors that are looking at the real world and thinking that there’s a lot of great material out there. Maybe some – or a lot of them – are also thinking some of the same things that you’re thinking.
Wolf Larsen: In that case I say that writers, poets, painters, and filmmakers should all join together in turning their pens, paintbrushes, and movie cameras against their masters. Social realism is reborn!

Question: But maybe there are writers, poets, sculptors who want to turn their pens, paintbrushes, and movie cameras against the privileged 1% but want to do so by some other means besides social realism. Who the hell is Wolf Larson to say that Neo-SocialRealism is the rule of the day?
Wolf Larsen: You know something. You’re right! People should express themselves any damn way they choose. There must be 1,000 different ways to turn our pens, paintbrushes, and movie cameras against the 1% besides just Neo-SocialRealism. There must be as many ways as there are poets, painters, sculptors, and moviemakers. Perhaps we can all march forward together against the 1%, but each with his own individual style.

Question: Just one more thing Wolf, perhaps this Neo-SocialRealism thing is just some passing phase? Maybe soon you’ll be changing your literary style as often as you change your underwear.
Wolf Larsen: Hey, that sounds like fun! But right now I’m surrounded by so much human misery in this Second Great Depression that reality itself feels like a vast tragic Dostoyevsky novel of massive proportions all around me. So for me at least Neo-SocialRealism is what’s playing now.

Question: Does Neo-SocialRealism mean you’re going to use the Queen’s English?
Wolf Larsen: I’ll use the Queen’s English when it suits me, although I am fond of run-on sentences and I will trample all over correct grammar whenever I see fit. I’ll use correct grammar when it suits me, and I’ll smash it into pieces when it gets in my way. Anyway, let the queen get a job.

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Wolf Larsen literature, Neo-Social-Realism

Posted on January 2, 2012 by Wolf Larsen

Patriotic Duty
A short story by Wolf Larsen

The fancy sports car pulled up to the curb. An older man in hip clothes and a younger woman in a sexy dress get out of the car. She is his “girlfriend” or maybe his granddaughter, it’s kind of hard to tell.
As they’re walking towards a super-cool super-chic super-expensive restaurant they pass by a young man sitting on the sidewalk by himself in the cold.
The man is missing some body parts, things like arms and legs. The sign around his neck says:
HOMELESS VET
PLEASE HELP!
In front of the man sitting on the sidewalk in the cold is a plastic cup with a few coins in it.
The older man walking along with his girlfriend or granddaughter blurts out, “WHY DO THESE PEOPLE THINK THEY’RE ENTITLED TO SOMETHING?! THAT’S THE PROBLEM WITH THIS COUNTRY!”
His girlfriend or granddaughter doesn’t say anything.
As he enters the restaurant the hip cool older man is thinking, “WOW! Everybody is seeing me with this hot babe on my arm! This is great!”
Inside the restaurant the old man and the young lady sit down. The old man starts talking. He wants to impress the young lady.
“Business is booming!” exclaims the old man. “The government just ordered a new machine from us this morning. Of course they’re going to use it to make weapons. I’m a war profiteer!” he exclaimed laughing.
The young lady smiles at him.
“God I hope Barack Obama gets reelected! He’s great for business!” the old man says laughing. “He’s even better for business than the Republicans!”
The young lady looks away. She doesn’t like politics.
The old man seems to notice her change in mood.
“Well actually, I’m just doing my patriotic duty for my country to help us defend ourselves against the terrorists. After all, we’re a freedom loving people, and that’s why we need a strong military!” he said with a softer more sensitive voice.
She smiled at him again.
While she smiled at the old man she thought, “”I can’t wait to dump this limp sack of shit! But for now I need him to pay the bills. I just can’t seem to find a job anywhere!”
The old man was excited because he knew that she liked him! He couldn’t wait to get her home! Boy oh boy was he excited!
Then – fast forward now – they ordered, ate, and the bill arrived. The old man kept the receipt, because after all it was a “business dinner”, or tax write off). Then the old man excused himself to go to the bathroom so that he could discreetly take that little blue pill.

Now playing: Neo-SocialRealism
Diego Rivera! George Grosz! Gustav Klutsis!

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Another Wolf Larsen short story

Posted on December 24, 2011 by Wolf Larsen

A Terrorist Bombing
a short story by Wolf Larsen

It is a humble home in Afghanistan. The husband and wife and their three children (ages 13, 11, & 9) are all sitting down to eat. The youngest son is yelling and laughing loudly about something.
“Can we have a moment of quiet please?” asks the father.
As they all sit before their food the father thanks God for the food that they’re about to eat. Then he faces his wife with a smile and thanks her too.
The husband and wife look at each other with tenderness.
The older son blurts out, “Enough of all your mushy lovey dovey stuff! I’m hungry!”
The daughter says laughingly, “You’re always hungry! Do you have a tapeworm?”
The older son just shakes his head and begins eating and everybody begins eating while the younger son tells everybody about what he did at school that day.
Meanwhile, unbeknownst to them in the sky above their home a CIA drone is moving into position.
“Mr. D—- is so boring,” continues the youngest son. “But Mrs. L—-‘s classes are not boring at all. She -”
As Junior talks the cargo doors of the CIA drone open up and release a bomb. As the bomb falls through the air Junior continues talking:
“- smiles a lot too. I wish my other teachers were more like her. Sometimes – ”
And that was the last word that Junior said. There was a big crash, and then an explosion, and the entire family was blown away into bits.
Copyright 2011 by Wolf Larsen. Advance permission is given to anyone wishing to do so to publish the above story without alterations as long as credit is given to the author, and the intent of such publication is not hostile.

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Wolf Larsen Short Story “The Republicrat Debates”

Posted on December 18, 2011 by Wolf Larsen

Half-a-Dozen Primates on Stage
or the Republicrat Debates
A short story by Wolf Larsen

The debate opens with half-a-dozen primates on stage standing behind podiums in front of a television audience of other perhaps slightly more advanced primates.
The moderator asks the half-a-dozen relatively advanced primates or presidential contenders, “So what should we do about Iran and North Korea?”
Mitt Romney: “Well I believe in whatever will get me the most votes! I’ll dress up as a woman in lipstick and lingerie and high heels at the next debate if that will get me elected president of the United States of America! And as you all know of all the Republicrats here I’m the one most likely to succeed in kicking that Demopublican Obama out of the White House!”

Moderator: “The question is what do you Republicrat candidates propose to do about Iran and North Korea?”
Rick Perry: “Duuuuuuuh, well I’m not sure where Iran is on the map… Uuuuhhhh… But I think we definitely need to put more McDonald’s in North Korea, so that they can become a free society and everything, but we should definitely invade them first!”

Moderator: “But Mr. Perry North Korea has nuclear weapons. Are you saying we should have a nuclear war with North Korea?”
Rick Perry: “Yeeehaaaaaw! Giddy up! Gimme that nuclear button! Why shouldn’t we have a nuclear war with Australia! Those pesky Australians have been causing too much trouble! We have a huge arsenal of nuclear weapons, it’s only a matter of time before we have a nuclear war with somebody, so it might as well be Canada – I mean Australia.”
Ron Paul: “I think you mean North Korea don’t you?”
Rick Perry: “Aw hell, let’s have a nuclear war with Mexico! Yeeehaaaaaw! Giddy up!”

Newt the Grinch begins with an evil laugh: ” HEE HEE HA HA HA HO HO HO! If elected president I’m going to commence my “Contract on America” plan beginning January, 2013! HEE HEE HA HA HA HO HO HO!”
Mitt Romney: “I will do anything to be elected president of the United States of America. I’ll dress up as a transvestite every day that I’m in the White House and I’ll show all the world leaders my excellent oral skills. What? What? Tell me what to say! I wanna be president! I wanna be president soooo bad! I’ll say or do anything to be elected president!”
Rick Perry: “Yeeehaaaaw! I went to abolish three government ministries, but it’s too much trouble to remember their names! So let’s just abolish all of the government ministries! It’s just a bunch of bureaucracy anyway!”
Ron Paul: “Exactly! We should rid ourselves of all these annoying regulations! Americans should be free to get E. coli if they want to! We need less regulation – we need libertarianism! Just call me President E. coli!”
Newt the Grinch begins that evil laugh again: “HEE HEE HA HA HA HO HO HO! Just wait untill January 2013 when I unleash my Contract on America! HEE HEE HA HA HA HO HO HO!”

Moderator: “My next question involves the Demopublican President Barack Obama. President Obama has increased the deportations of illegal immigrants, increased military spending, and he has increased the powers of the Patriot Act. President Obama has used the Justice Department to attack peace organizations. In addition, President Obama has also given hundreds of billions of taxpayers’ dollars to big corporations, and he has continued the war on drugs. With a president like that what do we need the Republicans for?”
Mitt Romney: “But I want to be president! It’s my turn! WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!”

Then Herman Cain runs up on stage and starts yelling out: “9.99 PIZZA PIES! 9.99 PIZZA PIES! 9.99 PIZZA PIES!”
Moderator: “I thought you dropped out of the race! What are you doing here?”
Herman Cain keeps yelling out as he jumps all over the stage: “9.99 PIZZA PIES! 9.99 PIZZA PIES! 9.99 PIZZA PIES!”

Michelle Bachmann says: “999 is a backwards 666! That’s socialism! You’re all a bunch of socialists! Barack Obama is a socialist! All the Demopublicans and Republicrats are socialists! Can’t you see all the Mongolian hordes of evil socialists crawling out of the walls everywhere?!”
Rick Santorum says: “666! That’s the sign of the devil! So let me just use this opportunity of the presidential debates to give you some good old Sunday Christian proselytizing! Hallelujah! If I’m elected president I’ll turn the White House into a great big church! Hallelujah! My speeches from the White House will be great sermons where a wave of evangelical Christians are fighting all the evil demons slithering out of everyone’s private parts! Hallelujah! It’s time to have a holy war against sex! Hallelujah! Jesus Christ is cumming!”
Herman Cain yells out: “Hallelujah! Hallelujah! 9.99 pizza pies! 9.99 pizza pies! I’m a preacher too! And now that all those harassment and infidelity claims have brought down my presidential campaign I’m going to become a minister! Hallelujah! Give me 10%! And buy some of my 9.99 pizza pies!”

Moderator: “Mr. Cain, you’re not supposed to be here! You dropped out of the presidential race!”
Michelle Bachmann says: “999 is a backwards 666! You’re all a bunch of evil devil-worshiping socialists!”
Mitt Romney: “I’m against devil-worshiping socialists if it will help get me elected! Oh! Oh! I want to be president so bad – I’m practically getting an orgasm here on stage thinking of it!”

Newt the Grinch: “HEE HEE HA HA HA HO HO HO! Just wait till I begin my Contract on America! HEE HEE HA HA HA HO HO HO!”
Ron Paul: “We need to deregulate pollution laws. We need more pollution. Pollution is good for you!”
Herman Cain: “9.99PIZZA PIES! ON SALE RIGHT NOW! PIZZA PIZZA! 9.99!”
Ron Paul: “And if you get into an accident and can’t afford medical care just die!”
The audience claps and cheers and goes wild with joy!
The audience starts chanting: “DIE! DIE! DIE!
DIE! DIE! DIE!
DIE! DIE! DIE!”
And while the audience chants “DIE! DIE! DIE!” Herman Cain is simultaneously jumping up and down and chanting “9.99 PIZZA PIE! 9.99 PIZZA PIE! 9.99 PIZZA PIE!”

Copyright 2011 by Wolf Larsen. Advance permission is given to anyone wishing to do so to publish the above story without altercations as long as credit is given to the author, and the intent of such publication is not hostile.

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Posted on December 12, 2011 by Wolf Larsen

Change of Management
A short story by Wolf Larsen

I walked into McDonald’s, and who should be there in front of me but former president George Bush dressed up as Ronald McDonald the clown!
“Welcome to McDonald’s!” exclaimed George Bush the clown. As I stood there in surprise some little kids yelled out in glee, “A CLOWN! A CLOWN!” I watched George Bush play with the kids. “What a great clown!” I thought.
Then as I began walking up to the counter I was surprised by the sight of former vice-president Dick Cheney mopping the floor. “Hi Dick!” I blurted out as I waved.
“You’re the dick!” responded the former vice-president in an angry voice.
And then I reached the counter. There was former president Barack Obama standing there before me on the other side of the counter. Obama first looked to the right and then to the left as he said, “May I take your order please?”
I followed Obama’s eyes and realized he was reading off of two screens, one on either side of him.
While I was ordering my Big Mac I looked into the kitchen and with a big surprise I saw Bill and Hillary Clinton flipping hamburgers back there.
When I got my food I sat at a table near the window and began reading the newspaper as I ate. The headlines were: UNEMPLOYMENT RATE FALLS TO 0%, MINIMUM WAGE TO BE DOUBLED NEXT WEEK, PERMANENT MORATORIUM ON FORECLOSURES DECLARED, and NEW SURGEON GENERAL ANNOUNCES FREE QUALITY MEDICAL CARE FOR ALL.
Then I looked outside and saw Donald Trump, Warren Buffett, and Bill Gates dressed up as sanitation workers. They were picking up garbage off the ground.
I smiled. What a beautiful day!

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Wolf Larsen video

Posted on September 12, 2011 by Wolf Larsen

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Wolf Larsen Self-Portrait

Posted on August 26, 2011 by Wolf Larsen

from A Plate of 6,000 Human Eyeballs
A Self-Portrait
By Wolf Larsen

I’m walking through a swirling-falling-rising-landscape where thousands of effigies of me are hanging from all the lampposts and millions of clones of me are all jumping & jumping & jumping from the skyscrapers to their deaths as they laugh & laugh and suddenly I’m walking across a landscape of your body and your body is streeeching across 10,000 songs and then you & me are walking together inside a dog’s head and now I’m exploding into hundreds of volcanoes all spewing poetry from my dead body and I’m running through Afghanistani & Iraqi landscapes mutilated by American bombs and everywhere I can hear my own screams even though I’m not screaming and all around me comets are smashing into the earth over & over again and suddenly a huge canyon splits through the middle of my body and millions of suns are floating up out of the canyon of my body and into the sky…
Copyright 2009 by Wolf Larsen

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10,000 Penises in Your Ear

Posted on August 19, 2011 by Wolf Larsen

“And the nuclear bombs are cOming” said the sidewAlk to all the feeT walking by.
COCAINE! You ereCt a tombstoNe for liTerature. I am a haPpy bOy mutilateD. Written on the tombstone is a cesspOol of contRadiCtions raceing into every phRase. Each phraSe leaps up and pounds and marches and stomps thrOugh your EyEs. You are noT a goOd humAn bEing?
The stRangeR in the bathrOom uRinating neXt to yOu. What are all the wOrds in his braiN? WorDs iN his bRain? WordS in his brAin? What is all the peeling-and-driZzle-and-lEaking in his bRain? What is this white space eatiNg the aiR betWeen the twO of yOu?
The maN in the bathrOom – neon blue and yellow and red curves around and around your bodies! – urinating next to you is carrying AIDS? You want to get to knOw him in-timAte-ly. What is this white bathroom enclosing the – Piano notE! – two of you? What is this huNgry and deLiriOus whitEness surrOunding and surrouNding thE two of you?
- you begin staBbing woRds intO hiM and hE is the doors and the windows he is all the hallways in the maze of a city.
Then the stoRy rUns awAy to neW yOrk cIty and becomes a thousand buildings falling and falling and f alling . The story slowly begins to gNaw on its reader’s bOdies and becomes a groWing canCer in their brAiNs. The main character in this story is a chair that neveR spEaks or does anything. The chaiR, which is oN the seconD story of a brOoklyn apaRtment bUilding, is marriEd to an airplaNe. so we wriTe the wOrds of this story on the blUe waves of the oCean. the maN sitting nExt to yOu on the subway begins to vOmit. this makes the airplanE turn into a vOlcanO in pEru. in peru yoU’re having uNprotected seX with a prosTitute. she tells you about the galaXy meaNdering and proWling and re-e-e-Ling. “that is why we have a christian god” says the drapes. the nuclear missiles are in their sillOs, wAitiNg anD waiTinG. . .
Copyright 2006 by Wolf Larsen

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