My, Hanno Raudsepp's, phone number is 1 - 613 - 394 - 6412
“G. I. Joe: a real American hero” screenplay
Dream cast
Dream cast
Hanno Raudsepp as Cobra Commander / G. I. Joe
Winona Ryder as the Baroness
Scarlett Johannson as Evil, tragic Scarlet and innocent hippie Scarlet
Christina Ricci as another hippie Scarlet Zen
really important character and actor, I keep on drawing a blank when I try to think of him
Jackie Chan as Stormshadow
Brad Pitt as Zartan
Ewan MacGregor as Duke
Liam Neeson as Destro
Barak Obama as himself
Sarah Palin as herself
Tina Fey as the evil, tragic Sarah Palin clone
D. G. Cotrono and Channing Tatum and Tom Hanks as the Desertors
Kiera Knightly as Lady Jaye
Kevin Costner as Hawk
Ewen Bremer as the Doc
with Dennis Quaid as Flint
and Johnny Dep as Serpentor
Winona Ryder as the Baroness
Scarlett Johannson as Evil, tragic Scarlet and innocent hippie Scarlet
Christina Ricci as another hippie Scarlet Zen
really important character and actor, I keep on drawing a blank when I try to think of him
Jackie Chan as Stormshadow
Brad Pitt as Zartan
Ewan MacGregor as Duke
Liam Neeson as Destro
Barak Obama as himself
Sarah Palin as herself
Tina Fey as the evil, tragic Sarah Palin clone
D. G. Cotrono and Channing Tatum and Tom Hanks as the Desertors
Kiera Knightly as Lady Jaye
Kevin Costner as Hawk
Ewen Bremer as the Doc
with Dennis Quaid as Flint
and Johnny Dep as Serpentor
Evil, tragic Scarlet: Let's go,
Snake-eyes.
Snake-eyes leaps through a light-maze
of illuminati fluorescent blueprints, like horizontal Tron-graphic
sheets of blue light arrayed vertically, with an integral graph of
orange light oriental chinese letter patterns and chinese calligraphy
patterns in between. Each chinese letter and each chinese
paint-brush stroke of chinese calligraphy, all as light patterns in
the air between the blue sheets, are the coordinates of his martial
arts motions through the air. His motions spell out chinese letters
in the air as well, perhaps trailing motion-drawn images in the air
of sentances in chinese. Ray Park can do it.
Evil Scarlet's journal
Death in my soul... iron in my
soul.. which is it?... is it will?... a matter of will?... a will
powered by death?... by a wild death of the will which is my
beginning?...
Hippie Scarlet's journal
... I am the invisible Scarlet. The
Scarlet which never was. The Scarlet which preceded the beginning.
The beginning of G. I. Joe. I am the Scarlet who perpetually,
eternally needs to be protected. I am the protected '60's. The
decade which needs to be protected. From sedation. From drugs.
From the death of reading.
I read in my shed in Cambodia. I
rub the ink of scattered news articles against my naked body so as to
feel the various pressures of ink of various leafs of news. Each
news article like a leaf I rub against my body. Feeling the autumn
pockmarks of its ink. Feeling the ink of the event, of the phantom
event recorded in the article, a phantom recording. I feel my body
immersed in phantoms. Phantoms of the press. The ink is the soul of
the phantom, the ink which seeps into my skin. My skin is the
recording of the ink trails of phantoms. My skin is an autumn leaf,
my body is an autumn leaf. The news, the scattered, random, or
apparently random, news articles I collect are a massive puzzle I'm
putting together, a puzzle made up of apparently random pieces, the
puzzle is Scarlet Zen.
Evil Scarlet's journal
Where do I begin? I begin with war. I
remember nothing before war. I. War. I survive to build an American
monarchy, and American hegemony. My survival is Scarlet Zen. My
survival is a ladder. I do not know which rung of the ladder I
occupy. Am I at the top? Or is the top merely the inverted lowest
rung of the ladder. Which is the a and which is the b of the
integral? The Riemann Sum of the Scarlet Zen ladder. The vast ocean
of war I command, Ahab's ocean. The ocean of soldiers. G. I. Joe.
Who is G. I. Joe? Is he my soul? My man's soul? I can't help but
feel my soul is a man. A man I hopelessly love. A man who is my
survival; I would not survive without him, without G. I. Joe. Is the
vast ocean of soldiers my vision of this man? How many men do I need
to feel myself with one man? How many men to fill my soul with one
man?
The Baroness's journal
Darkness is in our souls is it
not. Our souls, shame-wounded by our sins, cling to us the more the
more the more.. a quote from 'Ulysses'.. Stephan Daedelus, my Cobra
Commander... the darkness in my soul is in its natural element.. it
seeks honesty from my naked body, it seeks honesty outwards from my
core to the surface skin, the surface light.. I run naked into
closets... to escape the poisons, the drugs...
That World Trade Centre bombing I
sent Yousef on didn't go so well. It was before I met my Cobra.
CommanDER. I remember the bombing, I was working for the Russians at
the time. It was like some black propaganda. To make the Muslims
look bad, I mean. Poor Muslims. The Russians never stopped their
war with the Afghanis, they just went Baroness. I'm the one ticket
in town to arrange mediation between Marxists and Muslims. Kaboom.
Cobra Commander's journal
Where is the Baroness. None of our
mission will succeed without her. She is the linchpin of COBRA, it's
touchstone. She's a team-player. She is the foundation of a future
for the world. The planet needs her. For its salvation. She is the
Baroness.
The Baroness's journal
I love my Cobra. We're a match made in
heaven. Romeo and Juliet. As long as Juliet is naked. I'm naked
for my cause. COBRA! I always feel I'm cheating if I wear my
glasses. But that feeling only makes me feel more naked, which I
like. Cobra Commander is my friend. We're friends. I'd like us to
be more but we can accomplish a lot being friends. COBRA is my
emancipation. I know I'm the salvation of the planet. Cobra knows
it too. Kaboom.
Cobra Commander's journal
God Bless the Baroness.
Evil Scarlett: (to a silent, masked
Snake-eyes) The choice, for evil or for good, is a choice you have
the deadliest sight given you to divine, to configure to your tempest
soul, or rock band acoustics and light-shows, this deadliest of
sight, this deadliest of choice, and to configure to our own politic
of design. It is only through blindness and muteness that you can
travel in tandem with me. We may not always travel the same paths,
the same arcs of the same decade, but I will always have worked to
give you the most engineered of skill-sets for the sightliest of
choice, for the most refined, the most sophisticated political
channels of choice. You have a vision we've given you which spans
the arc of death, which sees death and bids it pass you by....
snake-eyes.. you'll always come up snake-eyes if we've given you
vision of guided-missile precision, of death precision...
Evil Scarlett: (speaking at the podium
of a political press-conference) The planet is worthy of American
hegemony. Monopolization operations are underrated. Under the
umbrella banner of “G. I. Joe, we have the most logistically
efficient international organization of soldiers of the future
installed and established for posterity's sake. The future is our
reality, our American investment into future high-tech industries.
The military foundation of G. I. Joe branches out into civilian
industrial and technological endeavours. Civilian realities are our
core investment, our core software of ideology and political
dialectic.
Cobra Commander: See, “she”, and I can only think of her in quotation marks, is everywhere, so everywhere, that it's hard, inconceivable difficult, to anylize her in a sense or style that is autobiographical. Style is important. There is a style to writing that defines the vernacular, that defines the soul of the writer, if you will. Style is what I seek for in this town, to be the inside-man of autobiographical exegesis, the autobiographical exegesis of a town, of an industrial-military complex. She takes over towns, town after town- is the takeover of towns the military-industrial complex? Is it made up of towns, of small towns? See, I want to stay in a given town. But I never can for long, not longer than a day. It's a consumer ethic of town
She wants to kill every woman who looks like her, so she's the only woman who looks like her, so she's the only face looking back at someone in the mirror, only her face in a mirror- her face a mirror, a mirror into our souls? Into the internal optics of our souls? So our souls are a wilderness of mirrors? .. every question mark is an optics, to invent by a mirror gaze which is a mirro that doesn't invent itself gazing into our souls an optics of mirror-industrial complex, inside our internal soul-workings a military-industrial optics of – what? - satellite laser technology?
Cobra agent: Were you Sherlock Holmes in a former existance, boss?
Cobra Commander: Good question. Who was Moriarty, the Napoleon of crime, the land-tycoon of crime, who bought up crime-real estate until he was on a margin of majority, like the PC party once in Canada. Sherlock Holmes was merely an entrepreneur, if that, a private, concerning citizen concerning himself with business he had no nose in, no business or shares in, as if the public corporation which is a town or city or city or town was prey to the intellect of a man with no shares. He was like some no-account swindler, who saw law and local politics as a house of cards because only so would it match Sherlock Holmes's moral sensibilities or intellect. Which was it, his moral sensibilities or intellect, which he had to have stock in a corporation to digest his events well? Moral sensibilities? He had none, according to repute. But, in fact, he had as many moral sensibilities as species of cocaine in his pipe for forensic analysis. In other words, widely distributed into meaninglessness, a sortin' morality of cocaine sortings. He had an indifferent interest in the public good, as long as if provided a sufficiently challenging mystery to solve. If it was a mystery that appealed to him, as a claimant, in the form of a man, I believe, usually a man, walking into his office to appeal for his help in local politics. Such men would appeal to Anton Checkov as well for advice. (pause) This is a dark game we're playing, with dark characters, even darker colours, dark colours made evil to serve proof of evil, to make a character of the character of fiction or evil, are we fighting the most brilliant of foes? Is it a laser-show, a loser-show, typographics?- nonsense, my dear Watson, which we're fighting? The work-ethic of lasers which take no time to reach their destination because they're already at their destination, like the two coordinates of a quantum particle across the breadths of outer space, before they leave. Colours, colours, and colours- because colours have no distance, colours have no shape to distance, colours have an imaginary soft-focus suggestion of quiessence which they call distance, a distant colour. Or not. Are there simply colours, vivid, ink-toned colours, which are vivid for their distance? Vivid as a vivid traversing of distance for stormy weathers, by all-encompassive tempests, colours which are tempests and therefore great, mountainous distances, tornadoes which are mountains, paintings which know colour therefore know women and thereby know mountains of scale.
I imagine the first introduction of Cobra Commander in the movie happening in concord with track 13 “imagine the fire” of the musical score for “The dark knight rises”. It begins with Cobra Commander walking purposedfully, steadfastly through the corriders of the innermost black, laybirinthine areas of the Pentagon, using advanced Cobra technology to decode his way through sliding after sliding door. And there's an homage to the scene in “Alien”, when the computer screne is showing basic “Tron” schematics of the two corrider's of the Alien, and I think it is, Tom Skerrit's character, until the two dot coordinates of the two are in one place. Kind of a computer graphic like that showing Cobra Commander representing one coordinate, and all sort of G. I. Joe troopers are various scattering “Chaos random” style coalescing together around the coordinate of Cobra Commander. Finally as he's making his way to the deepest, blackest core of the Pentagon, he's arrested by the G. I. Joes, but they know he's set a time-bomb to the costume, so they don't get near him too much. Then the scene changes to various television broadcasts, the screen is a black background against various smaller TV screens, a black background which then changes into the exterior of the Pentagon. TV broadcasters are reporting the capture of the most wanted terrorists on the planet, Cobra Commander, and giving biographies of his actions. We see scenes on some of the suspended screens of Cobra Commander leaving the Pentagon accompanied by G. I. Joes. And then, when they're on something like a tarmac or airfield outside, Cobra Commander is looking up, and the sky shows a dot in the distance, like the entrance of the Green Goblin in the first Spider-man movie. The dot becomes rapidly bigger, revealing itself as an individual dressed in white. Then Cobra Commander pushes the G. I. Joe's aside, and the white-cloacked individual, Stormshadow swoops down on his handglider, which Cobra Commander seizes, and Stormshadow, the hanglider and Cobra Commander swoop upward at quantum speed into the heavens. Jostling TV screens announce the sudden escape of Cobra Commander, and we see helicopters going after the two figures on the hanglider. Cobra Commander has a gun and he shoots back at the helicopters. Then the hanglider still speeds away, leaving the helicopters in the dusky twilight, and the scene shows the sunset from Cobra Commanders vantage point.
Stormshadow leaves Cobra Commander at a plateau near some mysterious computers. Cobra Commander feels rustling the air and draws out his gun. Evil Scarlet appears, her own gun drawn out. The two engage in a stand-off. Evil Scarlet knew where to find him, but she considers him irrelevant. As Cobra Commander gradually walks off, a long monologue for Evil Scarlet which I haven't worked out yet ensues. She yells out after him, saying she's not even aware of him, who is he even? She has no idea who he is. And she yells out after him as he walks away that she leads America's military-industrial complex, that it's all in her power, and that all the Joes answer to her, that they're all fervently loyal to her, she make disguised, ominous allusions to Duke. And as Cobra Commander walks, as sinister trombones play in the musical score, with a Hungarian ambience, the camera focues on this steel-mirror mask, a long close-cropped shot as he walks at a somewhat angle toward the camera which follows him. And then he walks into a room, where his blue hood is located, and a first-person perspective shot shows him removing the mask and putting on the hood. Then we see a scene of him walking on the top of a skyscraper, such as in the Al Pacino, Keaunu Reeves movie, “The Devil's own, except at night, except the city-lights and stars. He looks down at the light-bejewelled city, and then rips off the hood, revealing his face to be the beardless, original G. I. Joe, and yells out, in a trumpet-like voice, “COBRAAAA!!!”. The shot pans down to the city, and we hear faint, ghost-like voices answering, “... Coobraaa.... cobraaa....cobraaa...”.
Evil Scarlet: Who are you,
you're nothing, you're nothing, I don't care who you are, are you
listening to me or walking away, I own the system. I own the whole
military industrial complex trumpeted over the internet, I occupy the
hierarchy, they all trust me with their lives, because their lives
are aces if they work for me, I'm at the heights of the hierarchy,
but I'm not lonely, everyone wans to work for me, everyone knows
their's order as – as long as – fucking editing! Their fucking
order if their's fucking fractals! Got it??! As long as people pay
attention to fractals they've got it made in my employdom. It's not
that hard. Just read a few books and you're hired. Not every
fucking book in the universe, you idiot! Just the important ones.
..everything is free will if their's order, pal. Order is free will,
as long as I'm at the top because I'm the most fucking qualified, not
those lazy bitches pretending to be me. I'm tops with everyone
because I provide them with manuals. Manuals for living, manuals for
reading. Manuals for living in towns. Ever heard of radio – just
listen to once in a while and that's all you have to hear to live in
my town. Who are you? I can't even see you. I don't want to fight
you because I can't even see you – to naked Scarlet good, looking
at herself in her military jumpsuit with subtle, aggrieved,
affrighting gesture – because you probably haven't read a single
fucking book on fractals, the real ones! You can't fight order if
you haven't read the book. Universal order is a few books you
haven't read and will never read because they're not your style, and
you're all about the style vs. Content or some such shit like that.
It's form and content, you idiot, not style and content, I'm not
writing – whose autobiography in – what military-industrial
complex – edit – edit – edit - .........
Cobra Commander looks back for a
sec and then walks away slowly and reluctantly to Hungarian
trombones, as if his proximate presence is strengthening the demon to
its victim, so the victim can struggle free with the absence of his
presence, his symbol conscience-vibration/vibrations presences as if
his conscience was the “viol” in “violin”.
G. I. Joe felt tardy in his
values. He was very much a man of real beliefs, however, he was not
a man of few namesake values. He believed in nothing as a faith. He
felt nothing was as real as anything. He felt his own emptiness in
insufficiency. He was a man of- what? What of nothing? How much
did he work at some given thing. How did he feel his own work when
so blind in its cognizance. He felt non-real presently.. he was lost
in space, lost in empty acoustics.
Innocent, hippie Scarlett's naked
body is desert dune sands (cinematography in G. I. Joe). She is
Scarlett Zen.
“Hey, Scarlett, when are you not
naked, if you don't mind my asking, just out of curiosity?”
Scarlett: “It keeps me warm.”
Naked, innocent Scarlett is
watching Disney's “Snow White and the Seven Dwarves”, watches the
mirror scene with the evil Queen “mirror mirror.... there is one
fairer than you..”.. then edit to the scene where (in the Disney
film) the Evil Queen asks to be delivered her heart in a jewelry box.
Then Naked Scarlett gets up, goes to her own mirror, looks at her
face with the mirror reflecting a waist up breasts visible profile,
breasts of milk, breasts of life.. and the mirror starts freezing
over with crystal ice patterns and the animated face of a Scarlett
with a snide, cruel, snidely smiling, cruelly smiling upper lip
appears, says “Hi Scarlett” and the mirror and including +3
.the whole shot, expandingly, with
mirror image scaling shatteringly into real-Naked-Scarlett-containing
reality shatters into blackness. Utter blackness behind the
shattered glass-ice of reality, scaled into reality from mirror
reflecting-fiction, like the opening title credit of the Tom Berenger
movie of the namesake just described. And Scarlett cries out, and
Scarlett whimpers with fear, with whimpering sob, one sob, of
tearfears.
Let's do the toppling of the Eiffel
Tower scene again.
The Eiffel Tower disintegrates from its
foundations and topples. The next scene is of Cobra Commander
sitting at his desk, writing and attending to documents, while the
Baroness, standing behind him, leans over him, seductively, as the
disaster happens outside their window..
Baroness: Do you want to admire your
handiwork, Cobra?
Cobra Commander: I'm busy.
Scene containing excerpts from the
book, “The origins of the first World War: Great Power rivalry and
German War aims”, edited by H. W. Koch
“Shout! Shout!” by “Tears for
Fears” is playing during this scene.
The Cobra lair. Cobra Commander is
sitting at a desk in the middle of the room, with a pile of documents
on his desk. He is surrounded by busy Cobra agents, including
Destro. The room is lit by a a dark, bluish, fluorescent light, a
light the same colour as Cobra Commander's costume.
Cobra agent: Rathaneu has declined to
offer proposals for electoral reform in Prussia.
Cobra Commander: We'll arrange another
meeting
Cobra agent: We must follow the
Morocca crisis.
Cobra agent: .. and the failure of the
Haldane mission
Cobra agent: They're often taken to be
the same mitteleuropa project.
Destro: (unmasked, walking
lackadaisically to the desk, picking up a paper from it and looking
at it) What does this have to do with Scotland?
Cobra agent: We're all committed to
our accompanying hunger for prestige.
Cobra agent: Nor is ther any validity
to the theory that the Germans wanted to advance to a new position of
power through the war.
Cobra agents: (together, randomly)
WAR!
WAR!
WAR!
Cobra agent: especially in France.
Cobra agent: The transition from peace
to war is on the table.
Cobra agent: Germany's increasing
participation in the internationalism of industry and communications
throughout the world- and especially in France- amounts to an
invitation to “direct political action”.
Cobra agent: This means perfect sense.
Cobra agent: .. as reported by the
German banker.
Cobra agent: We must not stake
everything on a single card.
Cobra agent: Case in point.
Naked Baroness runs in.
Cobra agent: Case in point.
Naked Baroness: Aren't I a pleasant
anomaly? Somebody stop me! Take my clothes. PLEASE!
Cobra agent: Where are they?
Naked Baroness: I lost them in the
four corners of the globe in my travels. (singing tragicomically)
Ohhh, on the road to San Francisco, I came back naked to San
Francisco because I left presents across the globe and deed, and
died, myself naked in the process- never felt my heartstrings 'till i
went insane and naked in San Francisco and never found my body that
I'd lost 'till I went naked in San Francisco.. I bled my body into
the coffee I drank at coffee shops I frequented in San Francisco, I
drank my own body naked as I ad-libbed my body's drinkin' gallons of
body drinkin' in coffee shops I frequented in San Francisco.. i'm
dyin' to be naked in San Francisco 'cause my clothes in sperate
corners of the globe are incriminatin' evidence to my loose
indiscretions of knowin' to much my body to the crime of the moment
until I reach a destination in my naked untaught cavortin' in San
Fancisco..I'm a sentimental romantic at heart, that single detail is
true about me if nothin' else 'cause if I'm naked out of true.. I've
got a job to do to be glassenned into primeval naked nunnery of
jobbin' the competence of the walls enclosing my naked form to their
irregular civilizations of vibration...
Cobra Commander: (gravely) even before Britain has transmitted her declaration of war to Berlin, we must make our move.
Later, Cobra Commander is alone in a
dark room of deliberate sparse lighting, formal, stylized lighting.
A Cobra agent walks in.
Cobra agent: President Wilson has
decided to offer the five major European Powers his good offices as
mediator.
Cobra Commander: Good. We need him.
Cobra agent: If Germany accepts
mediation.
Cobra Commander: Hmmm.
End scene
Later, same room, Cobra Commander is
alone. Cobra agent walks in.
Cobra agent: There are two Germany's
last we've ordered reported.
Cobra Commander: Well, that opens the
doors to discussion.
Cobra agent: But, in fact, there may
be four Germanys.
Cobra Commander: Hmm. That could
become problematic. Too many voices at the table could crowd out
discussion.
End scene.
Stormshadow: Stormshadow's a dove.
The other grey-costumed ninja, my diabolical double, is a hawk, the
hawkish-garbed ninja, who has a colour-symbol-imagery schemed
affinity with “Hawk” of G. I. Joe. Stormshadow striats the lower
and upper classes, the a and b of the integral, as the inveterate
ninja he is, the quintessentially Marxian double-agent ninja, who
cavorts with French intelligentsia in Paris, like Ho Chi Minh, or
like Mossad et al., before Mossad got big and took Israel by storm,
and with the lower-classes in Vietnam. Is or is not Stormshadow Ho
Chi Minh, such is the mystery of Stormshadow.. or is he- wink, nudge,
someone else altogether, maybe someone in Taiwan. The double agent
of social-classes, “Upstairs-Downstairs”, indeed, Humpty-Dumpty,
the social-class self-reversal double-play, like Two-Face spinning
his coin in the morning, the classes by vector substitution inverting
their positions in the vector, a dual permutation, an inversion of a
rotating stage into upper/lower class quadrants.
G. I. Joe: When you're in the
depths of the Vietnam blackness, the black Vietnam jungle, the black
blindness of the Vietnam jungle, you don't know who to believe, or
what to believe. It is an eternity of isolated confinement, to be
confined by the Vietnam jungle, to be confined by blindness, to not
know whichaway the tactics are going in their whirligig of
orchestrations around you, around your blindness, outside of your own
cognisance of your own subjective effects, a effects can be, upon the
whirligig. Lost in the hurricane, lost within the tornado of the
Vietnam war, lost in the blindness of pitch-brownish ashes and black
dust.
Slimy moss vegetation was homely,
was home to G. I. Joe. Like, Sartre, G. I. Joe liked the slimy, it
was a comfortable swamp which felt like a home to G. I. Joe as well
as swamp-monsters. The slime moss vegetation was soft around him, a
slimepillow of softness, like a wet vegetation mattress to sink
through and forward, to sink forward in the war, toward a
destination, guided by softness, by softness of slime. He felt like
geology had always been the homeliest religion to him... Geology was
religiou slime... it guided him forward, he had the power of flight
within the swamp.
Such subjectivism of guidance as
the slimy swamps were was the only reliable guidance he had lost with
instinctual deliberation like a chess pawn within blind jungles,
blind Vietnam jungles, as a pawn who was also the chess-player, but
the chess-player was only his instinctual anima, his shadow-self, his
shadow-self was the chess-player and the conscious substance of the
man was the pawn-soldier in the jungle. It was only instincts, a
soldier's instincts blind to himself, which were at the echelon of
chess players. His anima. Instincts played the game at the
strategic level, at the geopolitical level.
Guided by his shadow and by the
slime of the marshes (perhaps he would encounter some marsh Arabs if
he got lost enough) G. I. Joe felt blinder and blinder to his own
tactics, to tactics to speak of. Only his shadow was knowledgeable,
only the shadow knows, what it was doing and what his conscious self
was doing. At different echelons he was fighting the war, in his
infinitely subjective self. The jungle environment was relevant, he
knew, it was a collective unconsciousness mapping of the jungle by
his mind's eye, by his buddhistic, subjective mind's eye. By the
visual subjective angle of a serpent he was sequentially, in the most
linear, the most delirious sense of it, swampstep by swampstep, his
unconsciousself, his mapping-echelon of his unconscious self, was
sequentially, visually mapping the jungle.. jungle.. jung – le.. as
in “jungian”?...
G. I. Joe first-person narration
journal ten or so minutes into the movie while he write in his motel
room after talking to Lady Jaye.
G. I. Joe: Jungles, navigating through
jungles, does one learn navigating through claustrophobic environs
thereby? Navigating through a close-cropped isolation which follows
your eternally, like an eternal, perpetual shadow of a jungle? After
Jonestown, have I been living in a jungle in the past few decades,
operating within an invisible close-cropped jungle, having coffee and
donuts, but still within the jungle.. I never left Vietnam, I never
left the jungle, I remained isolated and confined within a jungle
because the war wasn't over, how they always said, “Vietnam follows
you home”, “Vietnam always stays inside you, wherever you go
after the war, Vietnam stays inside you, you can never go home after
Vietnam”. Did I re-image myself more than once? Once after WWII
and once after Vietnam? Have I grown to an adult twice now? Because
another childhood I had seems to have taken place in a parallel
reality.
G. I. Joe was lying naked in bed
with sorrow.... sorrow for his long'slasting.. for his journey's
end... not begun? No journeys end? Lickerin. He was rotten with
grief. He was unaware of any loss to his name cause had none. No
blame to name. He was a man of need. Of no need. He-smoked no..
weed. He read instead. To no avail for present sense. Or future
wakes he read. Re-availing of the dead. Ripping pages from his
soul. He walked. He lived. He did a read. It was a book gone. A
book done. On to another soul. He went through them quickly. They
were done in his conscience for his requites of heart's speed.
A book was a book was a book. He
helt a felt loss of speed. Always for later. Never sped later.
Never a speed for young's morrow. He dread himself younger. Younger
with age, age with meaning, meaning with read. A read meaning. A
moment of death. A read, a liffle, a rife penknife was a book's
steed, in a stead of gone's read, of a gone of a gone of a gone....
of leaves of protection of leaves to die into adult age
leaves of palms
to cover naked
women's breasts
in tenuous
cover
of
hesitant shriek
of no cover to seek
to leaf by niggle
by naked woman's wiggle
G. I. Joe journal
I feel not at my greatest
strength. My weakness challenges me in questioning my own ability to
navigate it, to negotiate it. I am unforgiving of my own weakness-
it questions me. If I feel I lose awareness of myself, lose
consciousness or am losing consciousness of myself, I want to know
why, I want to know where my strength is. What it can do for me.
How my weakness is an index of my strength: my ability to bear
weakness, to bear under weakness. And accept weakness and contend
with it- that is where I come to defining strength. I come to that
margin or tangent of self-definition, of strength definition while
contending with my weakness. I write.
Naked, Tragic Scarlet was up to her
knees in mud. She needed a slipshod device to work the system of
nanotech i-bots which were in the machine. The device was a device
of living, organic mud-like compound nanobot-icicles of crystal
nanomatter. What a way to survive, she thought, it was nothing like
this in the compound. She was used to comfort – edit – edit –
like a princess in her hippie idea of the – edit – edit – what
the fuck – I'm evil Scarlet, not the comfort-loving princess- ohhh,
soome dayy my prince will come – lovesilly Scarlet... The mud is my
comfort, the mud is my comfort clothing.. I don't need plush pillows
and – I am going to
Naked Lady Jaye: (who, like
Stormshadow, always talks about herself in the third-person) Naked
Lady Jaye was always gracefully awkward, the way she'd run like a
naked Natalie Wood in a breathtaking naked female run for passion at
nakedly breathneck naked female speed for dramatic effect on her
conscience her conscience an accelleration yet naked Lady Jaye
brought it to the tragicomic whereas naked Natalie Wood brought it to
the melodramatic dramatic because she ran nakedly in only one
direction, her own, whereas Naked Lady Jaye ran in 12 different
directions at once because her naked awkwardness gave Naked Lady Jaye
those parameters.
The no-man's land deserters had
called themselves conscientious objectors once but just once. They'd
been sent to no-man's-land before they could repeat it a second time.
In case someone heard. And their own ears testified to another
voice hearing. But an unfriendly voice perhaps, but that didn't
matter they-... thought-... had thought- and, now- had thought- had
thought- had thought-... they were thrust in a hole for reasoning to
themselves that murder was murder, - and they weren't even at war
yet- at wartime yet- but the time had o'erleaped like a leapfrog the
destiny of volition before you had a second's quickshot – to –
BLAM! - “Too late, you were slow- he could've pulled out a gun.”
- to slow to respond with words, with an opening of dialogue- he
leaves, you're the last- executioner standing
-
---
You defect
You run into other people who say
they did the same thing and you believe them.
“Being and Nothingness”- one of
them's read a copy of “Being and Nothingness” and they said it
explains a lot, if they had a copy with them. - That every moment of
your thought, every moment of your thought of your life is a
life-choice – You can choose to desert anytime, any second, any
instant, is a choice to desert or not to desert,
every choice is an instant... a
second... a millisecond of a second.. of a choice... of choice itself
as a reason... So - “there is no excuse?”
“that's the philosophy.”
“Wow. Maybe I know I made the
right choice. Because all of them would have been stolen choices
ahead of me if I hadn't made the choice to desert.”
--
--
--
“and”, he goes on, “there is no
then, there is only a choice to make. A choice i then made, but made
it sooner rather than- later-
..... but too late
to save the guy ...
he goes on, “because he killed him as
a demostration, a demonstration to me, he needed an audience to do
it- and I was there because I hadn't deserted. To provide- an
audience. So-... I can't get the words out.”
“I know- it's obvious- 'cause-
we aren't made to be soldiers.”
“All soldiers are scum. Because
they got the law backing 'em up. They're cowards.”
“Yeah, no repercussions.”
“But what do we contribute then?
Once we're gone and- ourselves again.. if- possible.”
“When we get to land. Some
decent land, some decent country, we'll find out.”
“Soon, I hope. Real soon. I
mean, like, NOW! FOR FUCK'S SAKE!. I'm tired of being some stupid
soldier who pays his salary like it's a debt to his own comfort. I'm
glad we're out in no-man's land.”
Tom Hanks can play the “Hawk” of
no-man's-land. Never talking to the others, always writing on paper,
writing notes on paper, nothing but that, making connections,
connections, connections.. off in the barracks with his sacks of
dirty clothing and scant food supplies which are negligible to his
priorities. He's the bookworm, always writing, writing, writing on
loose, dirtying leaf paper
evil naked Scarlet- the evil you can
understand is scarier than the evil you can't understand- because
it's infinite the better you get, the stronger you get, so you get
more medication, because you're stronger to withstand the medication,
so you're overmedicated by his/her date- the lonely predator, the
predator abandoned by his/her prey
one more thought I can't remember now
Naked Scarlet Zen becomes grotesque,
self-grotesquering if she's a naked wackjob woman, resultantly a
victim- which creates a terrifying, devastating stroke of conscience,
a stroke of conscience of the rock that issues water when it's
struck, like a clock the predator ecology becomes a victim when it's
wounded and moans, or the animal who loses its prey and forlornly,
lonely sorrows its stomach
- “every time you make me good you
make me powerful”
evil is remorse turned inside-out
- no -
REMORSE is evil turned inside-out
capitalization ruins it
“evil is remorse turned inside-out”
whoa, that's deep
no, that's just a stupid sentance
“I will never accept this. This
is an exonerating double-play. Every time you exonerate me as a
nicer person I will be her. The nicer person.”
Stormshadow: “She will take every
charming character you create and appropriate her. Destroy your soul
you've made of her. You're not powerful enough to stop her. She
will rape every character you create. You can unrape a word but you
can't unrape a person. Every innocent rape is a predator in her
making. To be an innocent for her own rape. Of an innocent rape of
a rapier intestine for- the hair of a body every of which will be
numbered of the Last Judgement. I drinketh of this cup because a
rape of an innocent is a cop in the making, because a rape of an
innocent is a predating of a predator's namesake. Who will live to
gut her own soul into hair of her own pubic soul- of her own pubic
soulvulva.”
Tragic, Sad, Evil Naked Scarlet is
Scarlet Zen II, the second tribal Scarlet Zen
So, G. I. Joe deserter Serpentor
discovers his Serpentor legacy in a mystical, elaborate cave. He is
told he has a daughter. He is introduced to her. He leads his
daughter and the no-man's land deserters in a Serpentor League which
is a third faction in the war. He becomes Serpentor in the desert
wastelands of no-mans-land, like a T. E. Lawrence. Serpentor is T.
E. Lawrence.
Scene early in the movie
Danny Boyle might direct this
scene. As Naked Scarlet Red is dancing through 80's urban Vietnam,
the most important iconic street of Vietnam, evil Scarlet appears in
a brown trenchcoat.
Evil Scarlet: (mock intonation) This
town ain't big enough for the two of us. I don't like your ruddy
skin pigmentation. To uniform with the flashy Vietnam decor. It
could stand improvement.
Naked Scarlet Red: What- the city
decor?
Evil Scarlet: No, stupid. You're
skin-care products are overembellishing your natural skin pigment.
Oceraccentuating your natural ethnicity- what is it-
Spanish-Rumanian?- your ethnic flesh tones too aggrandizingly. I
don't like bravado. And you're leaking bravado all over the best
regions of Vietnam. It must stop.
Naked Scarlet Red: Says you! Who are
you, I haven't met you here before. Maybe I can show you the town.
Evil Scarlet: You've shown me enough,
already. It must stop, sorry.
- evil Scarlet whips out bug-spray
Evil Scarlet: It'll help your skin.
Naked Scarlet Red: Uh, that's
bug-spray. (in bug-voice) You're apologizing to a bug.
Evil Scarlet: Science is inventive
- evil Scarlet sprays naked Scarlet Red
in the eyes -
Naked Scarlet Red: What is this, army
protocal?
Evil Scarlet: Speaking of which.
- evil Scarlet takes out a gun from her
trenchcoat and shoot Scarlet Red in the stomach -
Evil Scarlet: Her skin ain't lookin'
so good, Sarge. I think it's almost done.
While naked Scarlet Red keels over on
the sidewalk, Evil Scarlet takes a gas tank from her trenchcoat and a
match- sprays her with gasoline and lights a match
Naked Scarlet Red: (wounded on the
ground) Flesh can't burn, asshole!
Evil Scarlet: I only hire the
ambitious.
- Evil Scarlet walks away toward the
screen, throws the lit match behind her at Scarlet wretch on the
ground -
Evil Scarlet: Pretend you're a
Buddhist. Hope your skin improves. I'm takin' out the Scarlet.
You're fired.
- evil Scarlet walks toward screen as
the camera-shot moves closer toward her face, evil Scarlet lights a
cigarette with a condescendingly distracted look -
Evil Scarlet: So much for Scarlet Red.
- naked Scarlet Red gets up bloody
wounded and stars bravely walking forward -
Evil Scarlet: (Still looking ahead,
not looking at Scarlet Red behind her, speaks in a Scottish Begbie
accent of rumbling indignation) Keep walking.
“Heaven ain't close in a Place like
this” - evil Scarlet's Vietnam – plays as evil Scarlett in brown
trenchcoat goes through Vietnam streets and to blindingly red,
colour-filled clubs- the whole screen is blinding red- she sits down
at a club for a cigarette, as an inscrutable, recognizably
inscrutable, diagonal camera-shot films her sitting, diagonal
vertigo.
... good Naked Scarlet Red is walking
wounded and starts bravely dancing her way to a G, I. Joe/ Cobra
joint safehouse she knows, Dancing makes her go faster, especially
with pre-established pre-muscle-memory movements, like instinct
staccato of naked Scarlet Red body.
Naked Scarlet Red: Killjoy.
- naked Scarlet Red enters the
safehouse room -
Naked Scarlet Red: I ran into an
accident on the road to Harlow.
- as she's treated by Donald
Sutherland..
Naked Scarlet Red: She bulldozes her
way through the streets of culture. I don't think she reads a book.
Naked Scarlet Red has an ebony red body
against the red relief background imagary overlap with the Christian
Rohlfs painting a strong allusion to the black figure- The scene is
Scorcese-stylized.. emanating the stylization commitment of evil
Scarlet.
Is she ebony red while on the on the
ground or standing up? Not sure
Directorial polyphony in the final
version combining Danny Boyle's and Martin Scorcese's versions of the
scene.
Hi guys, I just remember hearing
Scarlet Z or Scarlet Zed, tribal Scarlet Z, was also an innocent,
good person, not to say Evil Scarlet isn't a good person, if not so
innocent.
When Naked Scarlett acceses the demond
world of tribal Naked Scarlett Zen, she channels benign demons which
give her the abilitiy to optically shapeshift supernaturally into
Naked Jennifer C. Scarlett, a vibrantly nude woman of vibrantly
reddish-complexion skin and vivid red fleshtones to her pigmentation
and a vibrant jaunt to Jennifer C's Scarlett's naked walking and
naked jaunting through the cities of American or Vietnamese or
Cambodian art deco decor, Naked Scarlett becomes Naked art deco
Scarlett naked art decor Scarlett whose vibrant naked she-personality
matches the vivid Vietnamese urban decor
Naked Jennier C. Naked Scarlett is very
much a naked she of vivid naked decor rather than a naked female
desert naked goddess of naked Scarlett Zen mythic metaphysical
identity
Cobra Commander: (in the battlefield)
What do you suggest as our course of action, Lady Lovelace.
Lady Lovelace: COBRA, RETREEEAT!
RETREEAT!
Cobra Commander: Good show, Lady
Lovelace. I couldn't have said it better myself. You should be
doing this, not me.
Scene of a crowd of cowardly, naked
hippie women retreating in scrambling manner, throwing high-fives and
the such.
Naked women: (retreating) Aaaaahhhh!
(throwing high-fives)
The two guys Ewan MacGregor is playing
in G. I Joe will have two kind of cinematography, respectively,
perhaps one soft-focus outdoor lighting and the other soundstage
stylized lighting. The brown-hair guy, Renton, will be under
Scotland/Scotch land lighting, probably, I belief soft (non-stylized)
lighting. The blond guy, Duke, the other guy Ewan MacGregor plays,
wil be under American, stylized lighting, the kind done within a
soundstage (aka Hitchkock stylized lighting, american lighting).
Cobra Commander: Cobra! REATREAT!
REATREAT! Leave no man or woman behind! Make sure they all hear the
command! No one left to fight the war alone!
Cobra agents: (scattering amongst the
army with foghorns) Cobra! RETREAT! RETREAT!
The Baroness: May Welland with an uzi.
Baroness: Cobra, you know every comic
book ever written in the late 80's. Including the ones written by Tom
DeFalco.
Table full of guns.
Cobra Commander: Guns. They are so
yesterday. (sweeps them off the table) I'll clean that up later.
Baroness: (in shock) Cobra, please.
I never meant to take them that seriously. I think you're
overreacting.
Stormshadow: Wait, Commander. I
entirely appreciate the sentiment. But I really think you're
marginalizing the Baroness.
Cobra Commander: She's more than a
gun-waif, Stormshadow.
Naked Baroness: I feel so naked
without my guns. Just like I would without my glasses.
Cobra Commander: Well...
Serpentor = Alexander II in Russia, in
serpent irony
Serpentor's semantic commentary
(ironically phrased polemicizing)
Serpentor: Stay away from the topic of
the assassination of Alexander II by Sofia Verhoensky, and her
revisions of Dostoevsky's biography of her, because the Russian Mafia
is dangerous. Because that name “Russian Mafia” scares the
living shit out of me. (programmed reaction. Yeah, I feel it too)
There's something about putting the name “Russian” in front of
“Mafia” that scare the living shit of me. These two words should
never be combined together. It's a talisman.
Baroness: Look, Serpentor, there's
something I should tell you about these people. See, “Fan girls of
Russia” didn't sound bad-ass enough, so they decided to call
themselves the Russian Mafia. 'Cause they do read comics in Russia
too. I've been there. I am so not kidding about this. I'm Russian.
I know theins and outs of Russia. I used to be a Russian bride and
that's how I found my Cobra. COBRA derives its idealistic lineague
from Madame Blavatsky. We go all the way back to Egypt.
Serpentor: Serpentor appreciates the
lecture. This I command.
Baroness: Ya, boss.
Cobra Commander: Ah, guns Baroness,
you did bring guns. You're irrepressible. Big, fake guns. The kind
that don't hurt people. The bigger they are, the more harmless they
are. Well, that's okay then. Let's go.
Baroness: Ya, boss.
Serpentor's power waxes and wanes with
the moon. Lunar cycles of history. Blood of the Asp. He funded
Cleopatra.
Serpentor: The Muslims are all about
proving that Cleopatra was very, very intelligent. And she was, I'm
not saying she wasn't. But.. well.. it's complex. And she was quite
beautiful. The Feme-Illuminati go too much in the other direction
and try to portray her as a monster in thier .. odd.. disconcerting
fantasies which they find an amenable inhabitance for in Dostoevsky's
pen and geographical echelons of the psyche that names a novel “Notes
from Underground”. Shakespeare was far more on the mark. He lived
considerably closer to her era as well, which matters in issues of
the veracity of historical documentation, though it was more a matter
of the fact that Shakespear didn't seem to, in the eyes of the
Feme-Illuminati, take her too seriously, and she was always saying,
“Cleopatra, RETREAT!” And Antony would follow, which was not
their ideal form of male chivalry. They really did not know what to
do with Cleopatra. I think she pissed them off mightily, actually.
Serpentor – a tall man - : The whole
parallel reality gamuckuss is finally behind us. We can all breath
easy. But this is no time to retire. We've still got a lot of work
to do. Like figuring out which reality we're finally in, for
starters. Got my coffee. Instant. It'll do. So, where do we
begom. om.
See, Evil Scarlet Zen's modus
operandi of Voodo practice self-invented is to replace and substitute
herself with Cover girl/Girl each time someone/I/anyone/everyone gets
close to her, as an absolutely indistinguishable decoy, so that each
fucking time they will do her work and take out Cover Girl- her
cover- whenever they even remotely try to get tactically close to
Evil Scarlet Zen.
Renton is a dour Scotish rebel who
loves his country and will die for it or at least drink to it! (oh,
man, this man needs some happiness in his life so I will leave the
exclamation mark where it is.)
Cobra Commander: I'm going to have to
confess something about my character. I have no idea whether or not
there's a rebellion in Scotland right now. I have no fucking idea.
Global affairs are simply not my forte. Cultural sensitivity is the
forte, the sensibility, of the Baroness.
Obama: I am a communist. Uncle Joe is my uncle. There is no escaping this legacy. I tried to have myself assassinated twice and failed both times. I even went to Vietnam thinking they could do a better job. But Hamid Karzai failed where 9/11 succeeded. They stole the rooks but they can't steal Obama from America. Theft is wrong and Obama is going nowhere. Fast. Who's with me.
Obama's female cheering crowd: We are! Yayy!
Obama: Okay. This won't be easy. We've got at least another year of my presidency to kill, like a terrorist. Time is the worst casualty of terrorism. Satan's work. Blake's Satan was a chisler, a lobbyist that is. Lincoln had no time for lobbyists but I can do more. Lincoln freed me for the lobbies.
Female Obama fan: (crying) Lincoln did no free you for the lobbies.
Obama: It's too late now, far too late. We're in for it. Big time. People now know how to lobby a complaint with a President-merchant. At least I had my meeting with Putin and Karzai before we all go to the lobbies to get some snacks.
Obama's naked female cheering crowd: Snacks! Yayy!
Obama: But let's not be long. The movie's about to start. It's called “No way out”. Sound familiar? It shouldn't. The planet is a house of cards. Oh, great. Sarah Palin is hear. She heard me say the planet is a house of cards and decided that was her entrance. Wait, I think she's the mole. Let's get her. She's a Russian spy. Is she the one behind the trouble in the Ukraine which has caused masses of refugees.
Obama: Who is the Baroness.
Panetti: She's insane.
Obama: Outside of that.
Panetti: OUTSIDE of that?
Female Obama fan: She's naked?
Obama: Besides.
Panetti: She runs Russia?
Obama: Okay. That's a start.
Panetti: She's in debt to the Russian mafia.
Obama: Oboy. We've got to help her. Despite our allegiances.
Female fans: (crying) We have to help her. We just have to. We HAVE to.
Obama: We will. Don't worry. Obama knows the drill. Okay, everyone knows she secretly runs Russia, through some dubious black ops programs. Okay. I have to think this thru for a while. Okay. Okay. Okay. Okay. Okay. I forgot what I was thinking about. The Ukraine. There is an rebellions in the Ukraine, run and managed by Ukrainians. The Baroness- ah, I remember know- that's the Obama memory- she's trying to convicne us the Ukrainian rebels are Russians. So The Russians will stay in the Crimea. She's all about Russian imperialism and the Russian Mafia but we've got to help her. There's only so much Virag a woman can stand. Save the Baroness.
The Baroness: I am a white woman. But I need Obama's help. I have allegiances so spread out they are absolutely like tears in the wind. I have autumn tears. Tornado tears. Quantum turbulence. Chaos trubulence. I am a girl in trouble. Okay. Where do I begin.
It all began in Breast-Livotsk. I was making a deal with Trotsky hopefully to end the first world war. That was in my pacifistic days, before I reformed. Transmuted. I am mutant know. Mutant baroness. X marks the G-spot. John Reed wrote a whole book about me – “The shaking quivering naked body of the Baroness which shook the world”. He believed in me. He believed in Russia. I believe in Russia so much I now owe a lot of money to the Russian Mafia. They said they thought the best partner was someone who could remind them perpetually that he was her benefactor, that's Mafia for you. I like being in a state of dependance. I like feeling small against the Mafia. So I accepted. Now, Raskolnikov, my Cobra Commander, my Cobra, has to save me. But Obama might presently be more politcally empowered to do so. I'm nude Sonia, naked Sofia. I crack eggs against my nude body and let the yolk slide all over my nude body.
Cobra Commander here. Maybe we should start with Vladivostock and Tavistock. Vlad and Tav. Is agriculture the new Silicon Valley. Microsoft might think so. Techno-plants. Fractal crystal crops? Crops as chemical batteries? Sources of fuel? Have to study a chemistry book. Is the mind also intended as a human battery? As the fuel source of the next milleneum?
Naked Baroness here. HELP me. HELP me. The Russian Mafia put me on a glucose-free diet. They believe in torture. They said it was part of a politcal protest against the megalithic wheat industy in Odessa, their business rivals.
Baroness: Pleeeassse, Obama, pleeeaasee, be a Robert F. Kennedy. And a John F. Kennedy. Fight the Russian Mafia.
Obama aide: There is something intensely illegal about taking on the Russian Mafia.
Other Obama aide: Wait- I'm against go at the Russian Mafia, but not for that reason.
The Russian Mafia: We have not done this. We have not done this. We have not done this. We like the Baroness. We will protect the Baroness. We will pay off her debts.
President Sarah Palin: There is a scandal in Germany. Germany didn't pay off all its reparations after the first world war. Germany owes us millions of dollars, maybe even dozens of dollars. Hitler must be stopped, along with a number of Berlin business men and women. There is a rumour the Nazis are financed by the French. This is dangerous. So we must be an equally dangerous American US cabinet. Germany is still a dark, sick, distracted and divided nation, very much sick. The Berlin wall is back, hence divided. Liberals are greatly responsible for the election of the Nazis to power in Germany. That's democracy for you. We will have no such problems in America, the land of the free, for we have left and right parties in Canada/ Never let the left party know what the right is doing. This makes perfect sense. But events are on the side of the extremists in Upper Silesia. Silly Silesia, but not so silly for long, if we're not careful. The fix is in, and Germany's on the inside. Hitler is back and better than ever. We can't fight in here, this is the war room- hee hee- so, we'll have to do it outside. But for real. We are often embarrassed and irritated by Hitler, especially by his claim to be an equal partner. He is anxious to keep control over the small but politcally dangerous Nazi party. If it was only so. Hitler is becoming more and more unrestrained in his speeches, he is back and better than ever. Love that word. The Marxists taught- If you will not be my brother, I will bash your skull in. Our motto will be- if you will not be an american, I will bash your skull in. I am so not Hitler. He is someone else. Herr Minister, I gve you my word of honour, never as long as I live will I make a putsch.
- end speech-
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