THE CRUMBCAST // He Said, She Said…

Guess what? I’ve gone and done the unthinkable, and re-recorded episode twenty-five of The CrumbcastJoining me for this reboot is my wife Cassy whose talky talky abilities far exceed my own. Seriously, she knows how to keep a conversation going when all I tend to do is waffle on like a prat. She’s got the gift of the gab, you could say. And, actually, Tati and I have often discussed the possibility of making Cassy our agent…

“So, why redo this instalment of the podcast?” you may or may not be asking. Truth be told, I was deeply unsatisfied with my previous effort, and felt it would be better to have someone to conversate with. My recording experiences with Peter have given me a taste for this, and so I’ve decided to continue in this vein. And anyway, does anyone in their right mind really want another long, tedious, rambly monologue by me? Of course not!

So, what do we talk about this time? Well, what don’t we talk about! Let’s see… The Crumble Cult strip Subversive Element‘. Blue hair. Tattoos. Sluts. How to make a sister write your comic for you. Hell, social mores and more! Y’all are gonna have a great time with this one, and mostly because my better third is so utterly intelligent and engaging!

Oh, and please feel free to share your thoughts in the comments below. And maybe even leave a question you’d like us to answer in the next Crumbcast. We can’t promise that we’ll be able to address everything, but we’d love to try! So, go ahead. Ask!

PS: To listen to the podcast, click on the image below. Yes, it’s real magic in the digital world, I tells ya! No pesky sciencey stuff here!

 

by TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2019

BUT IS IT POETRY? // lethal bloom

a lunger on a hospital sheet
embraces the last spring
bursts into blossom with scarlet poppies
with every coughing fit

1265542358_ornament

TONY: Hm. I wonder…

TATI: Good luck with such a tedious task. I’m going to the sex shop before it closes. Do you need anything?

TONY: Yes, I do. While you’re there, would you purchase me an answer that will scrub away the question mark that lingers above your poem ‘lethal bloom’?

TATI: I appreciate your sense of humour, Tony. Will you die from curiosity during the next hour?

TONY: I’m not a cat, so… no.

TATI: Then I’ll be back soon. You’ll have a chance to prepare some genuinely interesting questions. Not like the last time.

TONY: How long must a poem be to be considered a legitimate poem?

TATI: You men are too preoccupied with sizes. How long must a penis be to be considered a legitimate penis?

TONY: Says the woman who’s going to a sex shop.

TATI: According to the Guinness Book of Records, the world’s shortest poem is one letter long. It’s by Aram Saroyan, and comprises a four-legged version of the letter ‘m’.

TONY: Damn. They’ll accept anything these days, won’t they?

TATI: Yes. You’re unbelievably quick-witted today. What happened?

TONY: What can I say? I’ve had my cornflakes. Anyway, back to your poem…

TATI: Back to my poem.

TONY: Yes. Were you worried that it might be considered a little on the short side?

TATI: No!

TONY: Okay then. I must say I do admire how you’ve managed to pack so much meaning into so few lines of poetry. That takes real skill.

TATI: Thank you. Again, do you need anything from the sex shop? There’s a big clearance sale on. Buy two, get one free. You can have the free one.

TONY: As long as it’s not a dildo then I don’t mind. You know, we haven’t even discussed the poem’s themes yet. I’m beginning to get the feeling you don’t want to talk about it.

TATI: What? You said you’re not a cat, and I can’t wait forever! And by the way, I will choose whatever I want for you, so beggars can’t be choosers!

TONY: This won’t take too long. I promise. All I want to know is what your poem’s about.

TATI: Life. Death. Spring.

TONY: Wow. You really unveiled the mystery there.

TATI: Tony, I’m late. I need to buy stockings and an eye patch!

TONY: I can’t imagine you in stockings. But you with an eye patch… now that would be way cool!

TATI: So, I may go after all?

TONY: Sigh. Fine. Go. Far be it from me to delay you on your all important quest!

Tati rushes out the door, slamming it behind her. She rushes back in mere moments later.

TONY: Did you forget something?

TATI: Yes, you idiot! I forgot to check my watch! The sex shop is closed already, so there is no point me going now!

TONY: Hey, that only happened because you wasted time not answering a simple question!

TATI: Sigh. Ask your questions. Anyway, there’s no fun at a hospital without stockings and an eye patch.

TONY: At a hosp—OH! I get it! You wanna indulge in a little Tarantino cosplay, yes?

TATI: No cosplays, silly Tony! Just some volunteering in the tuberculosis department.

TONY: Erm. Okay. It’s probably best if you don’t tell me about your perverted extracurricular activities.

TATI: Germane to the matter, I believe you had dozens of questions about my poem.

TONY: Oh, no no no! I’m done with that. I have no more questions. Besides, I’m tired. I think I’ll just rest here for a bit.

Tati finally seems to be lost for words. Tony plonks himself down on the sofa, his arms folded behind his head. Tati shrugs to herself, lights a cigarette, and plonks herself beside him.

TONY: Those will kill you, you know.

TATI: I know.

 

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2018

BUT IS IT ART? // Moon Me

 

1265542358_ornament

 

TATI: Tony, if you were an art gallery guide, what would you tell the visitors about this picture?

TONY: You mean, other than it was drawn by a rank amateur? Damn. I don’t know. Do I have to comment at all? How’s about I say it’s a silly little scribble that has no real meaning? Would that be good enough?

Tati takes on a nerdy expression and a dull academic tone.

TATI: Nope, I mean something like: ‘This picture presents a crescent man with a pretty athletic pair of legs and a sexy butt. Its arms look weak, and despite it being an Olympic athlete from ancient Greece it has a lot of trouble because of its heavy head. It can’t run and it falls over every time. This fact frustrates the crescent man, and makes it yell from helplessness and despair because it didn’t win Dolichos in 720 BC.’ A professional description, dude.

Tony goggles at the picture with a slack jaw.

TONY: Are we seeing the same thing?

TATI: ‘The artist’s intention is to show the tragedy of the character, its physical and spiritual torments.’

TONY: Oh, okay. Sounds good. Let’s roll with all that stuff you said.

TATI: And it should be a discobolus, not a runner!

Tony is starting to warm to this now.

TONY: That sounds feasible. Someone give the moon man a discus!

Tati waggles her finger before Tony’s nose.

TATI: I suppose it has a discus already.

TONY: Or maybe it is the discus?

TATI: Exactly. It could try to grab itself by the nape and throw itself as far as it can. But, alas, its hands, as I mentioned before, are too weak.

TONY: Yeah, that seems a bit strenuous for the poor geezer.

TATI: It hasn’t got a chance in hell.

Tony sniffles. He looks at the crescent man with deep pity. He had no idea that the character had been leading such a dramatic life up until this point.

Tati smiles and pats his shoulder.

TATI: See, Tony? It isn’t so hard. You take a turn now. What would you tell the visitors about this picture?

TONY: Erm, let’s see: ‘Drawing of a middle aged moon man whose parents would have liked him to have made something of himself but he only ended up disappointing them with his poor life choices. He is screaming in frustration at having been outshone by the surrounding stars and planetary bodies. Now both of his parents are dead, and his hopes of redeeming himself in their eyes are dead too. The drawing has rough pencil linework that has not been cleaned up for the final version, and the background is of a nebulous, unspecified setting because the artist couldn’t be arsed to render it in any detail. The moon man himself hasn’t even been carefully posed, therefore it looks like he’s puking up one of his legs. God, the artist is a hack. Tear this drawing off the gallery wall and burn it immediately. It’s a silly little scribble that has no real meaning.’

TATI: WOW, Tony! That’s a horse of another colour!

TONY: No, a horse has four legs.

 

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2019

BUT IS IT POETRY? // the last mission (fel-de-se)

bird pierced horizon
somewhere between trees and clouds
spilling rainy nails

a man in a hood
hopes to join them tomorrow
stuffing a nail bomb

1265542358_ornament

TONY: So, Tati, are you advocating terrorism now?

TATI: Huh?

TONY: A man in a hood stuffing a nail bomb. That’s pretty potent imagery right there, my friend.

TATI: And where’s the logic, my friend? Is everything I see something I advocate and enjoy? Is this the case for you?

TONY: Well, no, but I didn’t write a poem about it. It seems like something that was on your mind at least…

TATI: But you write about masturbating and depression. I don’t think you’re fan of such activities.

TONY: I’m a fan of one of them, but yeah, I take your point. So, what was your intention when you wrote this poem then?

TATI: A fan? Do you like depressive shit?

TONY: You’re dodging the question. No fair!

TATI: And everyone pretends that they don’t get you’re a fist fucker.

TONY: Ahem. I think we were talking about you and terrorism, not my sexual proclivities!

TATI: Next question, Jerry.

TONY: My name’s not Jerry!

TATI: Gosh, Oprah, you’re as dull as a holey galosh.

TONY: Oh, thank you so very much. That’s a lovely goddam thing to say! Jesus.

TATI: A galosh in glasses.

TONY: Fine. I’m a galosh in fucking glasses. This interview is over!

TATI: Really? Okay, Oprah. Then till next time, take care of yourselves and each other!

TONY: Jerry Springer signs off with that. Not Oprah! And there’s only one of me here!

TATI: Aw, boo hoo hoo! Go to Oprah!

TONY: What the hell?! Tati, are you stuck between TV channels?

TATI: Shall I punch you goodbye?

TONY: What’s gotten into you lately? You’ve been acting like a… well, a terrorist!

TATI: Aw, Tony, don’t you see I’m trying to raise our readership? Your dull interviewing technique would send even my grandma to sleep in two seconds flat!

TONY: Oh, so you’re proposing to thump each other over the head with our chairs, is that right? That’s your grand solution?!

TATI: And what is your proposition?

TONY: I don’t know. None of this has gone the way I planned. I think I might just go and take a nap.

TATI: Typical Tony!

TONY: What? What have I done now?

TATI: Just go. Meanwhile, I will think of the next ‘But is it Art?’ questions.

TONY: Don’t expect me to be a cooperative interviewee then. Feh!

Dear readers, don’t touch that dial… and stay tuned for more!

 

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2018

THE CRUMBCAST // Unremarkable Words (But They’re Mine)

As promised, I’m back with a new episode of The Crumbcast.

Believe me, I haven’t  been wasting time. In fact, I’ve been doing a lot of work on me. I’ve been moulding myself into a blue-eyed, muscle-bound adonis with curly, golden hair and a honeyed voice that will make your ears orgasm. I’ve been learning French, Argentine tango and how to poach eggs. (Steal ’em or cook ’em?)

Okay, now that I’m the worthy hero of your dreams, you ladies can start showering me with your lacy panties. And you blokes too, if you’re that way inclined. Hell, I belong on the cover of romance novels everywhere! Someone give me a book deal!

What? You don’t believe me? You say I’m still a sad old sap with wild hair, spindly limbs and a pot belly? That even my voice makes crows want to nosedive into a field of landmines? That my writings are your worst nightmare? Not to mention the quality of my eggs…

Ahem.

Okay, fine. So I’m still the same me I’ve always been. It isn’t easy to please everybody. And I only become a parody of my already absurd self whenever I try to. Living up to the expectations of others is definitely not recommended, and that’s something I touch on in this episode.

Anyway, I’m back, and I kinda hope y’all have missed me… even if just a little bit.

PS: To listen to the podcast in question then please click on that picture down there. To view the comic strip that my rambling centres around, then please click here. Yes, it’s real magic in the digital world, I tells ya! No pesky sciencey stuff here!

PPS: Oops. Since this post went live, I’ve recorded this episode a second time. You can read the reasons for me doing so here. Sorry for any inconvenience I may have caused, but I feel it was for the better. Honest!

 

by TONY SINGLE (with help from TETIANA ALEKSINA)
© All rights reserved 2019