Wiper Wiped Out?ro;”Forever!

| 16 Feb 2015 | 04:19

    The Wiper fell five stories from the corner prow of a tenement roof?while taking a Leonardo DiCaprio joke that no one was laughing at an inch too far?hit Allen Street spread-eagled and instantly was on the road to glory. Rather than yowling, "I'm the King of the World!" before his swan dive, however, the Wiper's final defiant shout to the New York skyline was: "Here I am! Rock me like a hurricane!" As it happened, the Wiper timed the fatally botched gag to coincide with the space on a mix tape between the Double XX Posse's "Not Gonna Be Able to Do It" and Sista's "Brand New." As it happened, the fall and the three and a half seconds of winding blank cassette tape coincided quite neatly.

    Ill-timed Sanchez did not, actually, witness the Wiper's demise, but rather heard a sort of unique whoop that the Lumpy Lass uses to express a wide range of emotions?a sharper version of the trademark cry would, for instance, indicate the Lass' indignation that Kaia, the overly glittered, eagerly topless jacuzzi-jumper from the Hawaii Real World, would be awarded such a dignified post as "performance" judge on the panel of MTV's Dave Holmes-hosted Say What? Karaoke. Which nodding Sanchez couldn't be more in agreement with her about. But idle Sanchez digresses. This whoop, as the Wiper plunged to his death, was considerably louder.

    Perhaps it would only interest detail-soaking Sanchez that at that very precise moment in time he was staring at a Luscious Jackson aftershow pass stuck right in the dead center of the intersection of Rivington and Ludlow. That is to say?the intersection depicted on the cover of Paul's Boutique. Stymied Sanchez wonders why the owners of Spitzer's Dress Store on the southeast corner didn't put up a sign that simply said "Paul's Boutique" and turn their shmatte operation into the Dome of the Rock for the nation of Beastie-dressalikes. (The place across the street has already turned into a swooshy, Frenchy sandwich place.) "Certainly the Ka'aba of their Mecca would be a crack rock and a wiffle-ball bat kept in some sort of holy sealed structure, with Fred Durst and Kid Rock kneeling before it, saying their ablutions," the forward-looking Sister of Sanchez said, and added, "the forward-looking Sister of Sanchez adds how glad she is that the Wiper wasn't dating the Wookie at the time?she can stay on this squalid little soap opera of ours, while the absence of a Wiper to cling to means the Lumpy Lass is going the way of Brian Austin Green's geek companion on the first season of 90210!"

    Sober Sanchez, on the other hand, was quietly calculating how much rent money the Wiper had failed to pay him before kicking the bucket. And who else could sneaky Sanchez persuade to pay too much money to share two tiny rooms with three other people other than some dolt like the Wiper, who actually gasped when told the pad was mere blocks from the Paul's site! Lightbulb-lidded Sanchez suddenly got the idea he should grab the kneepads and go beg MUGGER to farm out the old "Female Trouble" column to him for spare cash now that Amy Sohn's packed up and headed downtown to the Post?eager-learner Sanchez may not know much firsthand about blowjobs, but he's done a fair amount of reading on the subject! That would sure bring in the extra cash, saving bedeviled Sanchez's flame-licked ass right on time! Come to think of it, perhaps crafty Sanchez could talk the Dark Lord into letting him take up Godfrey Cheshire and Philip Guichard's gigs too?why, superproductive Sanchez could write some most excellent prose about being fucked up on 27 separate substances in a movie theater while a gigantic turbaned man on a silver screen prattled on in Iranian!

    The idea of the Sohn gig alone has Sanchez all a-jitter. Why, someday?after years of labor, fucking boring half-artsy men Sanchez always pictured as smaller, unfunnier David Schwimmers?perhaps Sanchez could be paid enough to live under human conditions, all due to his uncanny talent for taking photographs with pencils suggestively positioned on the mouth! In her "Mama Trauma" column of the 5th of October, Sohn speculates as to the President's analyst's choice of breakfast cereal, and reveals how much she pays her own! In the previous day's Post, an item on "Page Six" commits the unforgivable error of naming the Led Zeppelin sample in that Puffy Godzilla soundtrack tune as "The Immigrant Song" when the bitten guitar riff is in fact from "Kashmir." Well, har dee har har, poor piteous Post, nasty Sanchez truly has gotten your goat now! Elsewhere in the same issue, big ol' burly Liz Smith calls Jennifer Grey's ass a "singularly pert derriere" parenthetically.

    Upon returning home from her office job calling up the Bottleneck in Lawrence, KS, and making sure the promoter gave the band the beer it asked for on the contract rider, the Wookie was less baffled by the demise of the most beloved parody-wiglet in a newsprint serial drama than she was by the appearance of baffling Italian blues perennial Zucchero at NetAid?which promises to be the most thrift, corny, fakey-assed benefit extravaganza of the half-decade. As it happened, she had in tow a pasty, skinny fellow with very poor skin that supernominal Sanchez will call Glum Whitey, some second guitarist or other on her boss' management roster. It was when Sanchez spied a rolled-up copy of Teen People in his hand that an idea came over Sanchez. "Who's on the cover?" meek Sanchez asked.

    "Love," said Glum Whitey, unrolling the mag and holding it out. Under tiny circular photos of Ryan Phillippe and Brandy, a subheadline read: beauty secrets of the stars.

    "I love Love!" cried Sanchez.

    "I too love Love," said Glum Whitey glumly.

    "Love is all around," yawned the loving Sister of Sanchez. "And the yawning Sister of Sanchez loves that her businesslike brother would so blithely ax the characters that cease to amuse him."

    NEXT WEEK: Smart Sanchez reveals the secrets behind Trent Reznor's transformation into the goth Springsteen!