Unlikely 2.0


   As democracy is perfected, the office of president represents, more and more closely, the inner soul of the people. On some great and glorious day the plain folks of the land will reach their heart's desire at last and the White House will be adorned by a downright moron. —HL Mencken


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July 4th Issue:

Editor's Note

Five Photographs by Chuck Taylor
Four Photographs by Christopher Woods
Six Photographs by Gabriela Anaya Valdepeña
Three Songs by David Rovics
Walter Brasch on People's 100 most beautiful people
Dean Kisling on the American overpass
Evelyn Pringle on the FDA and Antipsychotic Pushers
Constitutional Rubbish by Joel S. Hirschhorn
It's Time for the Madness to Stop by Sheila Samples
Hans Bennett Interviews Aviva Chomsky
The Psychology of Scriptwriting: A Film by Jack Feldstein
Six Poems by Leonard J. Cirino
Four Poems by Hosho McCreesh
Three Poems by Mark Kerstetter
Three Specimens by Mark Cunningham
Two Poems by Gene Keller
Two Poems by Chris D'Errico
Two Poems by justin.barrett
Two Poems by Deidre Elizabeth
Star-Spangled Manner: A Poem by León De La Rosa
Three Poems by Amy King
At the Beautician's: Fiction by Tom Bradley
King of the Gunmen: Fiction by Stephen Muret
Mission to Dreamland: Fiction by Robert Ciesla
Whatever Happened to the Man with the Familiar Face?: A Novella by Rion Amilcar Scott


Recent Articles:

Alakananda Mookerjee Reviews the Art of Ellie Harrison
An Audio Track and Music Video by Hogeye Bill
Enter At Your Own Risk: A Spoken Word Video by "MrDaMan" and Luis Medina
Six Photographs by Carlin Felder
Six Paintings by Orna Ben-Shoshan


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Sparks
by Richard Denner

The time is spring; the place, Berkeley. The Mediterranean Café on Telegraph Avenue. A woman and a man are seated at a square, marble table. He is a dandy. She is glossily beautiful, like a 40's sex movie star. They are in a pin-spot of light. Behind them looms a mural abounding with Greek gods and goddesses. They know each other really well.

BOUVARD: You are the embodiment of wild desire. You'd look great even in pajamas. If I'd met you first, I'd be with you, but I'm with her, and she's the best for me.

ALMA: She's the best for you? You've got to have an edge to love? I'm not good at loving with third-party people. Have I been here before?

BOUVARD: We get caught up in our feelings when acting with other actors.

ALMA: Leave it alone, Bouvard, the geography between us is a shield. Don't cut yourself off from wild desire. I've done it.

BOUVARD: I'm faithful to love, but it's not going to control me, just because all things have sex. It's torture to worry about us cheating.

ALMA: Too stressful, to be honest. Too stressful to be honest. I love this crush.

[She takes a drink from a tall latte.]

BOUVARD: Hard in this life, you've only one body.

ALMA: Only one flag, only one life, only one leaf. Good line, Bouvard.

BOUVARD: I want to coddle...I mean cuddle you, well, both, but I know you have a natural feminine, non-toxic, body-pure immunity to adultery.

ALMA: You're right, I am careful about hygiene. It's a thing with me, but [unctuously] if I was to be unfaithful, it would be with you.

BOUVARD: You, you, you…at least, you're not dumb. Blind, maybe, but not dumb.

[He takes a sip from her glass.] ALMA: True love's an exotic club, that's for sure, and we've got the talent for it.

BOUVARD: [He rises.] True love is just a romantic notion.

[She finishes the drink.]

ALMA: Keep it up.

BOUVARD: Do you give heart? [His line overlaps hers.]

ALMA: I struggle to keep house. I do everything but cook. I can spend the whole day reading in bed. No reason to find someone else, besides me.

BOUVARD: And people have everything, including self-sabotage. [He sits.]

ALMA: Why are you fidgeting?

BOUVARD: [straightening himself in his chair] My pants are too tight in the crotch.

ALMA: If I had to choose between my survival and my dignity, I'd choose love.

BOUVARD: [wistfully] Yes, I miss the hungry years—but not too much. Then, you don't have time for love?

ALMA: No, but you encourage my wild side. [half rising with excitement] There's a charm in love affairs. Fun to be with you. Pure passion. Endless. Reckless.

BOUVARD: A kiss from you couldn't hurt, babe.

ALMA: With kisses come consequences. [slumps]

BOUVARD: I know you could cook my perfect omelet, too.

ALMA: [ignoring him] Once, I went on a date with a guy. Walked on the beach. I kissed him, but he didn't call. Wished he had. I took my blouse off. Had on a plaid skirt and boots. Took off one boot because he wanted to see if I had cankles.

BOUVARD: Cankles?

ALMA: He wanted to see if he could tell where my calves left off and my ankles began. I knew he didn't have balls.

BOUVARD: And I'm playing the part of a…I just feel intoxicated by my desire for you. I could kiss you all night. [nonchalant] Just a physical fact.

ALMA: [She puts both gloved hands over her ears.] I can't hear a thing you're saying.

BOUVARD: It's nothing, but all the same, a kiss from you couldn't hurt, babe.

Dim light. Sparks fly.


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