A bunch of 60 year old bisexuals circled around a transsexual, jerking off into its mouth.

A basement in a Long Island neighborhood. Tacky furniture and a poorly designed karaoke stage. An old man trying to drink himself to death, but never quite making it happen.

A poker table in the basement of a Long Island home.

It's a regular suburban neighborhood. An elderly man wakes up, dresses, and shuffles to the door. He sees his neighbors, a little wave is passed, but there's no talk of family or interests, just a wave.

He stops off at the deli to buy something, he waits at counter watching a Tv in the corner, he sees someone he knows. He points drawing the counterman's attention "I know him, I used to be in radio". "Really" the counter man says. "That's nice, here's your turkey club, you can pay the girl upfront."

So opens the obscurity show.

Sounds like a Kris Kristofferson song.

Pauly Shore's last appearance on Joe Rogan. The permanent shine on his face, the big trucker hat, bandanna, and an outfit only middle schoolers would wear while he sits there damaged from all the years of not leaving the club while he's still young asking Joe why he can't have those amazing years of just sitting on the beach smoking a joint after a night of partying all over Hollywood again. Really makes me feel bad for him. It's like a bizarre version of Artie Lange only even less relevant.

I don't need to picture anything when I already own a mirror