Watch for PIRATE FAMILY PLUS TOTORO: THE MUSICAL! on a stage near you in 2003!

This is what folks in the musical-making industry call "The Book":

The story is that of a fun-loving family of musical pirates who don't have the heart to actually plunder from anybody ("Oh! We're Terrible Pirates, But Not Terrible In The 'Terror' Sense Of The Word"), so they roam the Japanese countryside, dragging their boat across land with large ropes made from old sheets and clothing, living off the good grace of farmers and schoolchildren ("We'll Work For Grain And Apples, And Maybe For Crayons Too"). Every member of the family has their own private obsessions: Father collects bottlecaps, Mother collects magazines that never published beyond the first issue, Jakarta collects matchsticks, and Little Tohira collects acorns, nuts and seeds ("Look At Our Collections Of Largely Useless Things!").

One magic night ("One Magic Night"), the musical pirate family sleeps in an enchanted wood, and when they awake, the prized nut collection of Little Tohira has been spirited away! Chasing the elfin thief through the woods ("Stop! Come Back With My Nuts Or My Anger Shall Be Immense!"), Little Tohira is delighted and astonished to find it is a Totoro! ("Totoro!")

As things transpire, only Little Tohira and Jakarta can see the Totoros ("It's A Snuffleupagus Thing"), but the parents are untroubled -- they know that only children can see Totoros, and that's just the way it is ("Not Seeing Totoros Is Irrefutable Proof That We Are Slowly Getting Older And Going Blind"). The children and Totoros have mystical adventures in the woods ("Mystical Adventures In The Woods").

Disaster strikes when Jakarta's matchstick collection and Mother's defunct-magazine hoard interact to set the pirate ship ablaze, and a weary family tries to drag their burning home to a nearby lake ("Towing A Burning Pirate Ship Is Harder Than It Looks"). Fatigued and despondent, they are about to give up when the Totoros summon a storm to extinguish the flames ("Lo! A Storm To Extinguish The Flames"). The parents think it's a freak of nature, but the children know the truth. ("The Children Know The Truth.")

Fire extinguished, the family continues on its path, filled with a renewed desire to travel and collect in a more fire-retardant way: Mother now gathers asbestos tile from abandoned industrial sites, while Jakarta gathers rusty bits of metal and broken glass. ("Our Collections Are Now More Dangerous, But At Least They Won't Catch On Fire.")

In a stunning reprise, the Totoros take to the stage and present a mime/dance interpretation of the social mores and pressures leading to the Pre-Raphaelite painting movement of the late 1900s.

FIN



All I need now is music, lyrics, a venue, and half a million bucks.

Takers?

EDICT FORTY-FOUR:
"Piezometers for all"

It's a bit of a DOWNER when you wake up in the morning and say to yourself:

"Jeez, it'd be great to have a handy tool lying around that would help me determine the pressure in any given liquid-filled pipe by inserting the tool into said pipe and measuring the height to which liquid rises, then calculating pressure using the simple formula P1=pgh. But alas, I do not."

BUMMER, huh? Well, NO WORRIES, kid! Once I'm TOP OF THE GLOBAL POPS, EVERYONE will be issued their very own PIEZOMETER at birth! Training classes will be given in KINDERGARTENS and ELEMENTARY SCHOOLS, with REMEDIAL COURSES for those who missed it the first time 'round. Using a CALCULATOR, SLIDE RULE and the POWER OF YOUR LAUGHABLY SMALL MINDS, you will be able to figure out the pressure in ANY water- or gas-filled pipe, lickety-split!

PAY TRIBUTE TO THE PIEZOMETER! THE PIEZOMETER IS YOUR PAL!

I SHALL RULE THIS PLANET.

EDICT FORTY-THREE:
"Good Sportsmanship"

So you think SHOOTING UNAWARE ANIMALS from HUNDREDS OF YARDS AWAY with a HIGH-POWERED RIFLE is SPORTSMANSHIP, do you? Whoop! GUESS WHAT? Hunting will STILL BE PERMITTED under my BENEVOLENT and MERCIFUL REIGN.

That's right, all you BEER-SWILLING WEEKEND WARRIOR DICKHEADS will still be able to MOSEY INTO THE WOODS and KILL THINGS to get your LITTLE ROCKS OFF. You can still get your JOLLIES by TERMINATING things that aren't as SMART or TECHNOLOGICALLY ADVANCED as you.

Oh. Almost forgot. NO WEAPONS. If you want to go out there and WHACK A GRIZZLY, you're gonna have to do it with ONLY THE TOOLS GOD GAVE YA. If you want to POP A FEW DEER IN THE HEAD, you'll have to BEAT THEIR BRAINS OUT WITH YOUR KNUCKLES WHILE IT KICKS THE SHIT OUT OF YOU, because that's how it's going to BE.

It's RETROACTIVE, too. If you've ever SHOT A BLACK BEAR from SIX HUNDRED FEET AWAY, you can expect to be MEETING ITS BROTHER in a STEEL CAGE while BARE-ASS NAKED in pretty short order. While I LAUGH AND LAUGH AND LAUGH.

There is another option, of course. If you REALLY want to use your guns, you can. But I'll be offering a SIX MILLION DOLLAR BOUNTY on your head for the entire time you're in the woods. And flying in a few NAVY SEALS ON ACID to make things INTERESTING. Stop your WHINING. You'll still be better off than the animals you've been shooting in their LIVING ROOMS.

I SHALL RULE THIS PLANET.

EDICT FORTY-TWO:
"Rasslin' Names"

ATTENTION, MUD-SWILLING PEONS! Tired of being named DEBRA HOWALSH, LAWRENCE ILOTTEN, BRUCE WANG or MARK WALTERS? Fear not! SALVATION IS AT HAND!

For when you have CARRIED MY BRAIN THROUGH THE SACRED TUNNELS and WIRED MY CONSCIOUSNESS into the GIANT MASONIC MACHINES THAT CONTROL CONTINENTAL DRIFT, all of you citizens of PLANET YOURS TRULY will be given the MANDATORY NON-OPTIONAL FREEDOM to, upon maturity, choose your own RASSLIN' NAME.

A "Rasslin' Name," for the WOEFULLY UNDEREDUCATED, is a pseudonym one uses in moments of great drama and hyperbole, such as perhaps when HITTING A BURLY MAN IN TIGHTS OVER THE BACK OF THE HEAD WITH A FOLDING ALUMINUM CHAIR. Among other things.

Imagine going to your MUNDANE DRONE JOB and instead of being greeted with "Hi, Mitch" and "Hey, Mitch", this alternative: KICKING THE DOOR DOWN and LEAPING INTO THE ROOM wearing either GARISH FACE PAINT or a FACE-HUGGING DEVIL MASK screaming "MITCH THA MANGLA IN THA HOUUUSE!" Wouldn't that add a bit of much-needed JE NE SAIS QUOI to your GREY and DRAB days? Especially when you get to spend your lunch break facing off with SPINE-RIPPER SCHLOBOSKI in the STEEL CAGE down by RECEIVING.

RASSLIN' NAMES FOR ALL and if you don't pick your own, one will be ASSIGNED to you. Don't worry. I pick GOOD ones.

I SHALL RULE THIS PLANET.

EDICT FORTY-ONE:
"The Funny Law"

I'm SICK AND TIRED of this EVIDENCE- and FACT-BASED LEGAL SYSTEM that just keeps CLOGGING THINGS UP. Not that it doesn't have its uses, but when I am CHIEF JUSTICE OF THE UNIVERSE and all y'all are FILE CLERKS in the GALACTIC DEPARTMENT OF LITTER MANAGEMENT, there's gonna be at least ONE change made.

THE FUNNY LAW.

Whatever paragraph and subsection of whatever document it may be, it will be an overarching question with a meta-effect across the board. The question is simple:

"BUT WAS IT FUNNY?"

and a YES can absolve almost ANY crime! You can see the applications immediately. While nudging a bus full of nuns off the road is BAD and should be PUNISHED, nudging a bus full of nuns off the road and INTO A NUDIST CAMP is FUNNY. Or at least it COULD be.

Since funny is SUBJECTIVE, this law will be a DOUBLE-EDGED SWORD. But sometimes swords are FUNNY.

I SHALL RULE THIS PLANET.

EDICT FORTY:
"Advisors and Background Music"

I know what you're DREADING. That once you've RAISED ME UP like PETER WELLER with a JET PACK, I'll deliver long, tedious, BUCKAROO-BANZAI-STYLE speeches from the IVORY THRONE OF JUSTICE. Not likely!

Oh, OK, likely. Damn probable, in fact. BUT I intend to CLONE the members of ROCKAPELLA using an ADVANCED AGING PROCESS so that they can BACK ME UP with some WACKY CARMEN-SANDIEGO-ERA SPONTANEITY! So when I say "I SHALL CRUSH BOLIVIA" they can sort of riff on it a capella, like this:
"Bolivia, Bo-bo-livia,
Bo Knows Livia
Livia knows Bo
But don't touch Livia's
Salad Bowl!
BOOO-LIII-VIIII-AAAA!"

Or, you know, something like that. Rest assured that I shall DESTROY all those who are FOOLISH ENOUGH to OPPOSE ME, but shall do it in GLORIOUS FOUR-PART HARMONY.

I SHALL RULE THIS PLANET.

EDICT THIRTY-NINE:
"Legendary Lands"

If I'm going to DEIGN to ELEVATE YOU SCUM from your current SEWER-BELLIED GROVELING to the status of DEITIES BEFITTING MY VALUABLE TIME, I'm going to need a SEAT OF POWER that reflects my STATUS.

I'm a MODEST man, so MOON BASE ALPHA can be put off for a few years. The SPACE PLATFORM can similarly be DELAYED while you all ADJUST to the RAPID GROWTH OF YOUR BRAINS SUCH THAT YOUR CRANIUMS SPLIT, CAUSING MASSIVE HEADACHES. But is it too much to ask for ATLANTIS? Let's FIND the LOST CONTINENT and LIFT 'ER BACK UP! I can't believe you people haven't found it yet, by the way. Have you even been LOOKING?

IT'S ON THE THIRD SHELF BEHIND THE BOTTLES OF GINGER BEER!

No wait, that's the dijon. NEVER MIND.

Order of business, then: 1. FIND ATLANTIS, 2. RAISE ATLANTIS, 3. CLEAN IT UP so I can LIVE IN IT. Oh, and crush the globe under my heel. Shan't forget that.

I SHALL RULE THIS PLANET.