McDougal Fast Facts

• The original screenplay for "The Poseidon Adventure" was called "The Upside Down Boat Movie," and featured a maniacal Ahab-like captain, who ate half his crew before the wreck and impregnated Det. Lt. Mike Rogo (the character ultimately played by Ernest Borgnine). This character, Admiral McDougal, was later removed by timid Hollywood censors, who believed the character too closely resembled Richard Nixon.


• McDougal's jaw bone is coveted by a remote tribe of Guyanese pygmies, who believe it contains the secrets of the universe, as etched thereupon by Mayor McCheese in 1641.


• McDougal coined the phrases "rogues gallery," "fool's errand," and "devil's haircut."


• McDougal has memorized the entire musical "The Merchant of Venice" backwards -- not just the words, every letter. He frequently recites the entire production whilst coming down from 16-day meth jags. He's killed men for leaving before reciting the last ... err ... first number.


• McDougal has saved the lives of three American Presidents, and killed seven (only two while still in office).


• McDougal went to Hell last Easter, where he spent the day throwing horseshoes and dice with Buddy Ebsen. When he later asked Buddy what he was doing in hell, Mr. Ebsen admitted he had no idea where he was, or that he'd even passed away. He was admittedly quite distraught when he learned of his passing. His mood took an abrupt about-face, however, when McDougal later introduced him to the Lord Christ.

The McDougal Family Tree: A portrait in greatness (part 3)

Alert reader Carl Spackler writes, "whats mcdougal doing for thanksgiving? also, was he around for the first thanksgiving?"

Mr. Spackler, the McDougal family's arrival in The New World has been a hotly contested subject for many years. Certain factions of historians maintain that the McDougals have only recently immigrated to the United States and that many of the tales of their historical exploits are outright fiction. Some even go so far as to claim that The Great McDougal himself was foreign born. We here at the McDougal Center for Historical Research of Western Connecticut, the nations foremost center for McDougal family documentation, have long believed that a member of the McDougal clan was actually one of the earliest European settlers to arrive in North America. We are pleased to announce that our painstaking research has resulted in the discovery of the astounding tale of Johnathan James McDougal, Mayflower Stowaway.

That a member of the McDougal clan, legendary for drunkenness, whoring, drug use and all-around depravity would have fallen in with a group of religious nutcases like the Puritans is surprising indeed. However, pursued by various law enforcement officials, lawyers, creditors and mothers of illegitimate McDougal children, J.J. McDougal sneaked aboard the first ship leaving England that he was able to locate. When the McDougal finally revealed himself to the Puritans, after nine days at sea, they were none to pleased with his presence aboard their boat, and McDougal quickly began to loath their presence as well. No record survives of the numerous clashes that surely happened between the odd shipmates on the long voyage to America, but what is certain is that McDougal was immediately sent away from the Pilgrims upon their landing at Plymouth Rock to make his own way in the New World.

The Pilgrims surely felt that banishing J.J. McDougal into the unforgiving forest was a death sentence, but this does not seem to have bothered them in the slightest. However, they grossly underestimated the resourcefulness that has always been a hallmark of the McDougal line. Like the Pilgrims, J.J. owed his survival through that first harsh winter to the local indian tribe. McDougal found that each indian provided enough meat to last him for several weeks and their skins could be fashioned into warm clothing. He was careful not to over hunt the tribe, as it takes nearly two decades for an indian to reach full maturity. This casual approach to cannibalism is another one of those survival instincts that is hard-wired into every McDougal and has allowed them to become the successful family they are today.

The Pilgrims, meanwhile, took to farming, fishing and hunting of the local fauna to survive. When the time of the harvest arrived, they prepared a great feast to celebrate the bounty their new homeland provided. From his hideout in the trees McDougal smelled the wonderful aromas of the meal being prepared and was seized by a powerful hunger. Once the feast was prepared, and the Puritans began to take their seats, J.J. McDougal stumbled out of the woods clutching an indian skull filled with mead he had managed to ferment after raiding several beehives for their honey. The Pilgrims, shocked by McDougal's bizarre appearance and seized by a sense of Christian charity, allowed him to stay. McDougal spent the rest of the feast making a drunken nuisance of himself and gorging on the free meal. This started the Thanksgiving tradition of offering a feast to obnoxious and unwanted guests every November 24th.

Happy Thanksgiving from all of us here at Friends of McDougal.

Oh, and as for what The Great McDougal is doing for Thanksgiving this year? the same thing he does every year... He's going to get hopped up on pills, fly down to Tijuana at cactus-top level in one of his restored WWII fighter aircraft and catch a donkey show, then he's going to eat someone who looks like they might be an indian.

Teen People Interview

Every year when I come home for the holidays, I sneak into the attic and go through my old foot locker full of childhood memorabilia and half-empty bottles of stolen liquor.

At the bottom of my trunk, I found an issue of Teen People Magazine with McDougal on the cover. As you can imagine, I was quite shocked at this find.

This magazine is an important part of the McDougal lore because it contains one of the only known photos of McDougal in recorded history.

I've taken the time to copy the transcript of the interview from this issue.

Who is McDougal?
Ten Questions With Archibald McDougal
By Sassy Montgomery
Teen People Magazine

This being my first assignment with Teen People, I was a little apprehensive when my editor told me I was going to be tasked with uncovering the mystery that is McDougal. I was hoping to spend the day with the man, to really learn how he lives and be able to uncover what makes him tick.

Unfortunately, McDougal's handlers would not allow me direct access to him, and he agreed only to conduct the interview using a confusing combination of ship-to-shore radio, semaphore, Morse Code, and smoke signals. McDougal would only answer ten questions, and there would be no follow-up on his responses.

1. Who are you?

I am a man, same as you.

2. But I am not a man. I am a young lady.

That's question number two.

3. But that wasn't a question.

Three

4. OK, umm ... When were you born?

I was born in the Pleiades in the Electra solar system.

5. I said "when" not "Where".

Time is of little matter to me. I am eternal as Ross Martin's career.

6. Who is Ross Martin?

Artemis Gordon of "The Wild, Wild West."

7. Has he done anything since that show?

Don't be foolish. He was in "The Return of Charlie Chan," "The Three Robonic Stooges," "Greatest Heros of the Bible," and "I Married Wyatt Earp." The man's a legend.

8. How many questions do I have left?

Two.

9. How do you earn a living?

No man earns a living. Life is a gift bestowed upon the deserving and undeserving alike. Only the great man appreciates this gift and capitalizes on it.

10. How do you capitalize on it?

That, my dear young friend, is the question of the universe, isn't it?

11. Are you asking me a question?

No more questions from you. It's my turn now.

12. OK.

13. So how do you capitalize on it?

14. I'm not sure how to number these anymore.

Do not use any more numbers. Ever. Never mention numbers again as long as you live.

OK.

So how do you capitalize on it?

Umm ... by taking time to --

Don't mention time. It involves numbers. Let's desist the quantitative view of life.

OK. Then ... I capitalize on the gift of life by savoring every moment.

No. There is only one moment. Right now. The past and future are illusory. They're like numbers that way.

I don't understand.

Then you're retarded.

Am not.

You're denial only proves my point.

What point?

Ha! Now you've got it. There is no point.

No point to what?

There is no what.

Then what is there?

Nothing. Only this moment.

What about everything I've done before and will do from here on.

What have you done?

Well, I graduated from Summa Cum Laude from Vanderbilt University.

There you go with the numbers again.

Who am I talking to?

Who am I?

I thought I was going to be interviewing McDougal.

As did I.

You thought you were going to be interviewing McDougal?

I did. And I am.

No, you're interviewing me.

I am.

And who do you think I am?

Who do you think you are?

I don't know.

I do.

Then why question me, if you already have all the answers.

I'm not.

Yes you are. You asked me how I capitalize on the gift of life.

I did nothing of the sort.

You asked me.

Yes, I know. But you turned it around and then asked me.

Did I?

Umm ... Yes. I think so. Yes.

And did you answer?

Yes, but you said my answer was wrong.

There are no wrong answers.

Then I was right?

There are no right answers.

I don't understand.

There are no answers.

Only questions?

There are no questions, you said so yourself.

No, I said you shouldn't count my statements as questions.

Then what should I count them as?

Nothing. You shouldn't count them.

My point exactly. There should be no counting.

But you said I could have ten questions.

And who am I to tell you how many questions you might have?

Uhh ... McDougal?

There is no McDougal.

Then why am I here?

Why are you here?

To interview McDougal.

And have you done so?

I tried.

So you deem the attempt a failure? How did you plan on measuring your success? With numbers?

Well ... no. I just wanted answers -

There are no answers.

Then why did you agree to the interview?

I never did.

Then why did you agree to talk to me?

I never did.

Yes, I have the letter right here. You said I could ask ten questions via smoke signals and those other things.

There are no other things.

Of course there are.

Then what are they?

Well, lots of things. Too many to list right now. I could never list them all.

There is nothing to be gained by accounting or recording.

Well, I have to record this interview.

Why?

So people will know what you said.

But I've said nothing.

You can say that again.

But I've said nothing.

Well, actually you've said a lot of things. It's just that most of them didn't make any sense.

I've said nothing.

Then who did?

Hello?

McDougal Fast Facts

• McDougal's had the bird flu 311 times. The last time he caught it was in 1683. When he recovered, he slaughtered the entire dodo species. He hasn't had as much as a cold since.
• McDougal has flat feet with 1" discs on the bottom. They allow him, when barefoot, to climb walls like a spider. Sadly, due to an embarrassing nail fungus, McDougal has not taken his socks of since 1986.
• McDougal can will hair to grow on anything. He killed Sirhan Sirhan by causing him to grow hair on his heart, lungs, trachea, and eyeballs.
• McDougal's first home was made of egg whites. It provided excellent shelter and was a source of protein for an entire village in the Ozarks.
• McDougal taught Jesus and Abraham Lincoln how to walk on water. Lincoln was not the kind of man to show off.
• McDougal is a robot who runs on 132 AAA batteries, which have to be replaced every four hours.
• McDougal lives in a 6,000 square foot ice castle in Ecuador.
• McDougal has a collection of unicorns that graze freely on his secret compound in Nigeria. Wait, not unicorns ... eunuchs.
• McDougal once ate a log cabin on a dare. When his army buddies weren't impressed, he shat out an arc and forced it to rain for 40 days and 40 nights and flooding the Earth. He then sailed his arc to the moon and started a new race of genetically modified superheroes.
• McDougal has won 13 spelling bees.
• There is no Hebrew word for McDougal.
  

The 3rd Person

Below is a transcript of a recent subway conversation between a friend of McDougal and Lou Reed's ego.

Friend of McDougal: McDougal has an uncomfortable obsession with Lou Reed.
Lou Reed's Ego: Lou reed requires unhealthy adoration from his fans.

FoM: McDougal often compares himself to John Hinckley when he speaks of Lou Reed.
LRE: Lou Reed requires something injected into his scrotum.

FoM: I bet McDougal would do it.
LRE: Lou Reed is not made uncomfortable by homosexual allusions. Lou Reed understands that goes along with heroin rock.

FoM: Wait, heroin isn't sold in rocks. That's crack.
LRE: Lou Reed believes heroin is no a product, but a mindset.

FoM: McDougal would be upset if he heard you talking like Andy Warhol.
LRE: Lou Reed never called Andy Warhol a dandy. Lou Reed smells something burning.

FoM: McDougal has torched Paris.
LRE: Lou Reed smells Paris burning.

FoM: McDougal cannot be held accountable for his actions when pills are involved.
LRE: Lou Reed says pills are always involved.

FoM: McDougal believes a chicken casserole is always in order.
LRE: Lou Reed enjoys casseroles in that grieving period after funerals.

FoM: Does Lou Reed attend many funerals?
LRE: Lou Reed knows life is a long funeral.

FoM:Then he must eat many casseroles.
LRE: Lou Reed wonders to whom McDougal is referring.

FoM: I don't know to whom McDougal may refer. I am not McDougal. I am his friend.
LRE: Then who is Lou Reed?

FoM: Lou Reed is an avante garde glam rocker.
LRE: Lou Reed defies definition.

FoM: McDougal calls him a saint.
LRE: McDougal is a fraud.

FoM: Lou Reed is a fraud.
LRE: Lou Reed defies definition.

FoM: Lou Reed is as consistent as John Daley.
LRE: Lou Reed doesn't understand. Is that a joke?

FoM: It's a golf joke. McDougal loves golf.
LRE: McDougal makes Lou Reed uncomfortable.

FoM: "Sally Can't Dance" makes McDougal vomit.
LRE: Who is McDougal.

FoM: A good friend of mine.
LRE: Lou Reed says that was not a question.

FoM: I'm going to tell McDougal about this.
LRE: Lou Reed believes YOU are McDougal.

FoM: Lou Reed is delusional.
LRE: Lou Reed wants to kill you with his bare hands.

FoM: McDougal wouldn't like that.
LRE: Lou Reed requires a child.

FoM: Why are you staring at me like that.
LRE: Lou Reed is a mirror to the world. If Lou Reed stares at you, it is only your introspection he reflects.

FoM: I'm leaving now.
LRE: McDougal can never leave.

FoM: I'm not McDougal.
LRE: Then Lou Reed is not Lou Reed.

FoM: Then who is?
LRE: Lou Reed does not believe that is a question either.

FoM: Lou Reed is unhinged.

Lou Reed got off at the next stop and was greeted by McDougal. The two were holding hands as I pulled away.

I AM BACK IN EXILE

The McDougal Family Tree: A portrait of greatness (Part 2).

And now we here at FOMcD will continue our series on other members of the McDougal clan who have achieved some level of greatness.

General Ambrose "Brickfence" McDougal has the distinction of being the only person to command troops on both sides of the American Civil War... simultaneously. McDougal, a Mississippi plantation owner, had not taken much interest in the rebellion during the early days of the war, however upon hearing of President Lincoln's Emancipation Proclamation he was profoundly moved. Early the next morning he set off on a long and dangerous journey, sneaking across the Union border and returning, at considerable risk, with a load of uniforms and weapons. Upon his return, McDougal informed his slaves that any who wished to enlist in the Union army would be freed immediately. As you can imagine, the slaves showed a great deal of enthusiasm for the freedom to fight. Uniforms and muskets were issued out. The now General McDougal informed his troops that they would invade the nearest town at dawn.

Late that night McDougal rode into the town and informed the residents that invasion from an army of freed slaves was imminent. He told them that their only hope for survival would be to raise a militia and head off the invasion at the edge of town, in the fields of the McDougal plantation. The townspeople, in a panic, asked McDougal to lead their militia in combat against the slave army. McDougal said that he would be willing to accept the burden of leadership in exchange for a modest fee, which the townspeople were eager to pay.

The next morning McDougal's Union Free Negro Army of Mississippi marched out through the fields toward the town, right into an ambush set by the townspeople's militia. The battle raged for days, attracting a large crowd of spectators, as was the custom at the times. There was not much else in the way of entertainment in the mid-1860s, especially with a war on. Friendly wagering about the outcome of the battle soon began and McDougal, being the landowner where the battle was taking place, made his way through the crowd facilitating this gambling, taking a cut of the action of course. The town militia soon began to be overwhelmed by the assault of the slave army however, as McDougal's was a large plantation having a great multitude of slaves. McDougal quickly sent a courier bearing a letter to the nearest Confederate headquarters informing them of the Union assault and requesting more troops.

With the arrival of seasoned troops the Confederate forces were able to push back against the Union invasion, driving them nearly to the brink of defeat. Ambrose was forced to purchase more slaves from neighboring plantations with his gambling earnings and free them so that they could join his Union army. These fresh troops rushed into battle in a brilliant flanking manuver that would have surely crushed the Confederate resistance if General McDougal had not been aware of it beforehand and arrayed his troops to repel the advance. The Confederate command, growing tired of this prolonged combat taking place so embarassingly deep inside Southern Territory decided to put an end to the Union slave army once and for all. They sent a letter to General McDougal informing him that they had pulled four cannons out of front line combat and sent them South to Missisippi. These would certainly turn the tide of battle in favor of the Confederacy. As the convoy bearing the cannons approached the battlefield however, it was ambushed by scouts from the 1st Mississippi Negro Cavalry, who managed to capture two of the cannons. This brilliant tactical move was, no doubt, the work of General Ambrose McDougal.

Both sides withdrew and dug into fortified positions, from which they could exchange cannon fire. This assault continued on for months. Periodically one side or the other would attempt an infantry charge, but opposing forces always managed to anticipate these manuvers and neither side was ever able to gain the upper hand. The months stretched into years, yet the battle raged on, continuing even after the end of the Civil War by popular demand, as it had become the most visited tourist destination in the state of Mississippi.

General Ambrose McDougal was hailed as a hero by both sides of the conflict for many years, until they finally realized that they were both hailing him as a hero. Several statues in both Northern and Southern cities were dismantled in the middle of the night and it was generally agreed that the whole episode should never be spoken of again. If one spends enough time attending Civil War re-enactments, however, you will begin to hear whispers about the legend of General Brickfence McDougal, the only man who ever grasped the true spirit of the Civil War, a grim spectacle perfect for wringing the cash from slack-jawed tourists.

I HAVE RETURNED FROM EXILE

I need to clarify about 6 things. I have been blocked from all communication regarding a one Mr. Avery Chaz. McDougal for approximately 3 weeks. Someone else, who will not be named here, used the embedded Dell keystroke recorder in my Latitude 805 to get into and subsequently lock me out of this forum, wrote his or her own missives, and then sold used women's underwear using my eBay account. This is neither the time nor place for me to describe how I got my password back, nor how well his liver-skin warms my ankles.

For there is one thing and one thing only that is appropriate here, and that is the description and worship of our Lord and Saviour Franco McDougal.

How my mind churned and revolted at the inability to put down my history on that man! How I screamed through the night, hands bloodied from pounding my own meat for hours, then grilling the aforementioned steaks and sadly having dinner alone while locked out of blogspot.com until the 22 hour waiting period ended and I could try a new set of passcodes. The terrors and ignobility of these past weeks is nothing compared to the great strength of McDougal's words to me in my agony chamber.

"Flip the channel til you see skin or Iraq," the wise sage would say to me, making me realize the base instincts of Man and my comparatively shallow concerns.

"Buy me a goddamned pizza before I fuck your cat in the face," he would equivocate, riveting me back to my own body's desire for food, water, and basic cleansing.

"You mind if I call your sister up? Herpes is on and I can't fuck my usual," he opined, giving me insight into something I still haven't exactly nailed down in my mind.

How he bolstered me through these dark days, how I fell to his shoulder in tears more times than I can count, sopping his shirt in sadness and anger, needing his warm embrace as a young oversexed rutting hippo needs a speedball.

Now that I am back I will tell a few stories I remember about McDougal, the most amusing involving a pair of ben wah balls and Kevin Federline.

McDougal Gets Half Nekkid

Enter the water slowly, son.

That's what McDougal said.

Of course, he was telling me this as he was shoving my head into a filthy Texaco latrine outside of Muskogee.




This half nekkid pic was taken in Detroit Metro airport in the psychedelic tunnel the other day.

Me and McDougal had taken a bunch of illegal narcotics and spent 6 hours just riding back and forth.

Missed our flight to Bangkok, but had a nice time nonetheless.

McDougal was concerned that I was wearing sandals in Detroit in November, so he forced me to put socks on.

He later beat me up for wearing socks with sandals.

The McDougal Family Tree: A portrait of greatness (Part 1).

McDougal and I are still traveling, so I've turned to a roving McDougal historian to provide historical information on the McDougal clan.

I had meant to continue my travelogue series. However, McDougal is sure that Canadian secret service is attempting to track his movements, so I've been forced to abandon the series.

Please enjoy this little bit of McDougal family history instead.

McDougal's official title, The Great McDougal, is somewhat misleading as it suggests that he is the only member of the McDougal clan to achieve greatness. McDougal has many illustrious ancestors which we here at FOMcD will be profiling over the next few weeks to give you, gentle reader, a better idea of the type of stock McDougal comes from.

In the spring of 1905 Dr. Hauser McDougal became the youngest graduate of Harvard Medical School at an astonishing fourteen years of age. At the age of fifteen he became the youngest person to ever be successfully sued for malpractice. By the age of sixteen he was dead. Hauser's meteoric medical career is now mostly forgotten, mainly because of the efforts of Harvard Medical School to eradicate any evidence that they graduated a fourteen year-old doctor. But careful research will reveal that from September of 1905 to June of 1906 Hauser McDougal was the most sought-after doctor in the entire state of Massachusetts. Patients would line up around the block to receive medical treatment from the "boy doctor." He was particularly revered for the research he conducted involving the use of magnetism in treatments for common maladies. McDougal had many famous clients and is rumored to have even treated President Theodore Roosevelt, fitting him with a pair of magnetic undershorts to treat persistant saddle sores that had been with the President since his days as a Rough Rider.

Unfortunately, along with fame and fortune, the medical profession also gave Hauser McDougal easy access to morphine. He soon found himself hopelessly addicted and his work suffered accordingly. He began treating every complaint, no matter how minor, with the amputation of limbs. The limb to be amputated was selected using a grid painted on the floor of his office. Each square on the grid had the name of a limb painted within. A live goose was then placed on the grid. Whichever square was defecated upon, that limb was removed. Surprisingly, most of the patients treated in this fashion seemed quite happy with the results, and it was not until McDougal's failed attempt to, according to his notes, "amputate the patient's torso away from the rest of the body" that a malpractice lawsuit was filed.

Hauser McDougal lost everything and descended further into madness and addiction, a running theme in any history of the McDougal clan. However, he never gave up his dreams of medical greatness and continued to conduct his medical experiments, mostly on himself and any mongrel dogs not wise enough to give his hovel a wide berth. On February 16, 1907 Hauser McDougal died on his makeshift operating table while attempting to replace his own heart with a large magnet.

The story of Hauser McDougal should have ended there, as a tale of failure and insanity, but this is not the McDougal way. The McDougal family will not allow its greatness to be swept under the rug. Many years later, the result of several shady business deals and possibly one back-alley execution, the life of Dr. Hauser McDougal was adapted into a popular television program about the life of an adolescent doctor coming of age.

Flight Log (Flying with McDougal: Part II)

Live notes on traveling with the big guy ...

11:30 AM (EST)
I think McDougal just picked up Senator Gephardt's endorsement for President. There was a brief conversation, followed by shouting and a very minor physical altercation, which ended civil enough and involved the Senator handing McDougal the piece of paper below:

“Thanks for all your help, McDougal. Good luck in '08. (Something illegibly scrawled on the bottom – likely "fuck off")

(Meant to scan this, but technology not available.)

12:45 PM (EDT)

We're sitting in the taxi way of the airport. Flight is running very late.

McDougal keeps loudly saying to me, “Goddamn, Frank. There's plenty of chinks on this flight, huh?”

I asked him to please not say that again and he choked me for a minute.

He still has issues with his treatment during the Battan death march. (Historical records indicate McDougal was serving in the motor pool in Ft. Meade, Maryland, at the time of the march, but the old guy swears he was there. Anyway, he hates Asians.)

So the Japanese guy's sitting across from us and McDougal keeps looking over at him. He's reading a book in Japanese. McDougal's either fascinated or infuriated by this. Hard to tell. We're both shithouse drunk.

1:05 PM (EDT)

We're finally airborne.

Good news on this flight – a 757 with three-wide rows of seats. There's an empty seat in our row, but McDougal still insisted on sitting in the seat right next to me and sandwiching me into the window.

He keeps pointing at things outside he wants me to look at. Then, when I turn to look, he jams my face into the window. This makes him laugh loudly. Several people have moved to other seats away from us.

Second brush with fame of the day – the crew on this flight consists of George Taikei and the Oakridge Boys in skirts.

1:40 PM (EDT)
McDougal finally said something to the Japanese guy across from us. McDougal is usually pretty well spoken, so it didn't surprise him when he leaned over to the guy and yelled in his face, “Ching Chong Chinaman!”

He's done this three times in the past five minutes or so.

2:00 PM (EDT)

McDougal says his ass is asleep and he's doing windsprints up and down the aisle. (He always wears a parachute when he flies. George Taikei initially asked McDougal to check it. McDougal broke his own thumb, which somehow convinced George Taikei that he should be allowed to keep the parachute (and helmet, which McDougal has not taken off all day).

2:20 PM EDT

I just re-set my watch to Pacific time, which has infuriated McDougal. He says he's never heard of such a thing, and is now yelling at other passengers, asking them what time it is. He does not like that he has received three or four different answers (Eastern, Central, and West Coast times, plus someone just made some numbers up and told him.)

McDougal is now convinced that we're in a time machine, and he's crying about 1984 and his virginity. Oh, wait. 1484.

No.

Now he says just '84. Delete that floating comman thing, he says. Apostrophe. He doesn't want me to type the word apostrophe. His fist is the size of a canteloupe and he just punched me in the ear.

2:35 PM EDT

McDougal just yelled that “ching chong chinaman” thing at the Japanese guy across the aisle again.

The Chinaman, err, I mean Japanese guy just did some kind of karate chop thing on McDougal's throat.

McDougal's awake, but not moving. Weird.

Oh. He's paralyzed.

Thank God. I can finally get out to take a leak.

Traveling with McD

Sitting in the Detroit Metro. Airport right now.

McDougal's gone missing.

There's this psychedelic hallway with moving stairs and the big guy just completely freaked out on it. Worried we're going to miss our connecting flight ...

Actually may go on without him.

Flight here was terrible.

First off, McDougal's a big guy. Goes 'bout 6'9", 320.

He should have to buy 2 seats, but he never does. Whenever we travel, he insists I take the window seat and het get the aisle seat right next to me.

We board the plane, and find out seats. For some reason, he's freaking out to sit down. He shoves me into the seat, squeezes in next to me and goes nuts looking for his seat belt. The guy's frantic at this point.

He gets his seat belt on, leans over to me and says, "Yo, Betty, check this out, man."

I look over and he's got his "junk" out playin' with it.

then he pushes the stewardess button. she's busy tryin' to board the plane, but he starts screamin' for her. she comes over and he asks for help with his seat belt, and well ...

You see where this is going

anyway, she's a bull dyke. looks like Grizzly Addams in a polyester pantsuit.

She doesn't kick him off the plane or anything. they apparently know each other.

Holy shit -- that's Dick Gaphardt. Sitting right next to me.

I swear to God.

A Trucker's Journal

An excerpt from McDougal's diary.

He doesn't date his entries, so I have no idea when this was written. I tried to cement a timeline by the TV shows and technology he lists, but it seems to be all over the board. McDougal is timeless.

On the road from Cincy,
Stopping soon to watch Quincy.
She's a re-run
and I've seen her before.
Hope to see a new episode of Highway to Heaven
tonight. I live for the TV.
Goddamn it's hard to type and drive.
Double
clutch. WHo knew?
Over the counter speed and the finer stuff.
Gonna pack
it in, I think.
Drive this rig into a refinery. Take us all out.
Burn
out hot and die fast ... better than the alternative slow, cool fade.
And
these high-tops smell like a filthy rest stop latrine.
Hold on ... something
in the road.
Hitcher.
I put the pedal to the metal and he's in my
sights.
Barely even makes a noise, and he's left mangled in my wake.
Was
an Indian man by the look of it. LIkely Comanche.
And I drive on.
Like
the man in black says. Drive on.
There's a Krystal in Branson, and I think I
can make it by suppertime.
I eat like a bear when I'm on the road.
Out
of trashcans and without use of my thumbs.
Catch fish when I'm near a
stream. Of consciousness.
And these pills lock in my vision.
And I'm
alright.
Says so on the radio.
8-track.
And sometimes when it's
late, and I'm alone in the cab, I put on John Denver.
He always says,
"Please, McDougal. Let me go."
But there's the sushi.
And I can't.
Got a copy of Dianetics. Think it's a diet book or something. Stole it off a
dead gypsy in Aimes. Wondered for a minute if that dead gypsy wasn't me. A quick
look up her skirt just to be sure, and I'm alright.
I push the pedal down to
the floor and the old tanker rumbles. The road is empty. Wide open. My own.
Trailers for sale or rent ...
You know the drill.
You know the
skiff.
The skit.
The story.
It's the same story, really.
The
same one you tell your kids at night.
There are bears, and princesses, and
poison arrows.
And off to the side of the road, those pines, in symmetrical
rows.
And I'm tired.
So I take another handfull of speed and a swig of
Dickel, and the road calls me dear.
I don't answer her.
That's the
siren's song.
The song that pulls me out of bed in a cheap motel room in
Tuscaloosa or Alameda or Wichita.
She says, get movin' you fat, old bastard.
You can't stay still.
That's how they catch you.
Those demons.
Get back out there.
Don't stop.
Never stop.
I grip the wheel
tightly to stop the shaking
of my hands.
Bare hands
Bear hands.
And I'm constipated.
Got the 'roids.
Damn this trucker's diet.
And these headaches.
Thank God for B.C. Powder and Art Bell.
And I
see the black helicopters, and I know.
They're coming for me.
Those
demons.

All Saints Day Update

McDougal just beat a girl in a sleeping bag to death with ... a girl in a sleeping bag.

Oh wait.

That was Jason Vorhees.

Goddamn, I LOVE COCAINE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!