BatNeil, the sequel

Barnaby Fell, as goes the pen name, has developed and refined a decidedly deliberately unrefined pen-name, and visa versa, as you all know.

Some of his ben-wa pearls of wisdom can now be found on the information super-calif-fryway known as the interum. (Taken from the word, “Pussy”).

In order to really lap up the extra-ordinary supply of creamy sauce found in this computer generated thighway’s inner workings, quickly drop your modem and reveal your (on)line capacity.

These ben-wa vundervalls can be perceived only in cyber-terms; my helmet prevents me from the dangers of impurititties of the flesh, but I like to think of myself as a modern electronic link between Batman and Neil. Here we have the clever part.

We take

It’s a cliche, but I did in fact see it in a dream.

Listen when an inspired man is trying to choke himself with his own dick.

1. Let’s get that word back in the dictionary, shall we?

2. If you start a fight, pretend.

3. Lap top computers don’t have as much to offer as the name implies.

4. Absolutely everyone is right handed.

5. Jacking off is both of those things.

6. When in Vindicationland, try not to do much of anything.

7. Role model? Full bottle.

And so on. I think it’s pretty clear that the possibilities are relentless.

In terms of copyrights, I propose a draw.

The trust involved in seeing that this is headed somewhere is exactly the kind of trust which Majenta lacks most of all. Therefore I think it’s crucial we include this in the first computerized issue. The “compudebut,” if you’d like.

(first speech at the corner of Bat St. and Neil Place)

First of all, I’d like to say that [unintelligible for approximately thirty “syllables”] and that bathing is a privilege, not a requirement. I [unintelligible] personification of intense feelings deep-rooted in the event of an accident [vomiting and coughing] on, oh yeah, that’s a hell of a thing to say. Oh Jesus Christ, where the fuck are they?

No. 3: BatNeil’s Play, the Cliffnotes

BatNeil Scrambles, BatNeil 4

His head rocks back and forth, and at an increasing pace. This in a sort of shambling motion; as if his head moved in response to a profound disturbance while the body was controlled entirely by his most primitive impulses.

Yet he manages enough coherence to respond to the accusations that without the mask, he has in fact been frowning the entire time of his so-called fame, not keeping such a straight face after all. (Accusation made official by Lipstick, his latest call-girl, on their first date when in a fit of passion BatNeil removed his mask for her).

He says she wasn’t even looking, and the bedroom situation had changed his mood some; plus the pressure of crowds makes him sort of nervous and faggoty.

Neil, on the other hand, has a different take. “If he had a spine, I’d snap it. Looks like I’m gonna have to make do with his jaw – ’cause we sure do know that motherfucker has a mouth on him.”

Barnaby Fell, the same who portrayed a few early caricatures of BatNeil, before WS Burroughs, Dave Matthews, and Tim Allen, and really just about everyone had a shot at the role, was quick to clear up the confusion on who said what – “So the role really hasn’t exactly died off with this rather harmless individual’s take over and brutal death; he was the one to take responsibility for a mistake most everyone here participated in – a bad idea taken way too far.”

Looks like it’s time for a rewrite (low tuba, Perfect Fifth descension).

twinkle, twinkle, batneil's eyes
how being sober, I despised

now that I'm a happy guy
like some sober sap, refined

twinkle, twinkle, batneil's eyes
swear this mag
was my demise

shave and a haircut —
suck tits