The infamous box prophet has forsaken his bloody spork and his year-old watermelon bin, and his text-only Obama phone with no minutes, for a smart phone, and a conversation with James LaFond…

“Oh, there is so much drama out here on the East Coast—everybody is fat, ugly, and dying. I’ve been out here from Las Vegas for three weeks now, and I have only seen one pretty girl—and she could have used a treadmill.”

JL: “Dude, admittedly you are hailing from the piece-of-ass capital of the world. Billionaires fly around the globe to get laid in Las Vegas. Can’t you give the corn-fed girls a break?”

“Corn? Corn! Are you fucking kidding me! Good God, all anybody eats out here is bacon. Put bacon and cheese on it and it’s a delicacy; bacon, bacon and more bacon—why not just eat mayonnaise with a spoon!”

JL: “Seriously, it’s that bad?”

“Look. I’m fifty and these fuckers make me look twenty-eight. I’m chronologically fifty—effectively twenty-eight. In Vegas I’m forty, out here, I’m not even thirty. I have a better BMI than Pittsburg area teenagers! I’m serious, every old friend I look up. It’s like, ‘Hey did you hear about so-in-so getting their gallbladder out?’, ‘Did you know so-in-so just had a stroke?’, ‘You know I’m, dying right; it hurts so bad—because all I do is fucking eat bacon-on-butter fucking sandwiches and I’m a fat goddamned American head of livestock!’”

“Really, die in peace—why do you have to regale me about your clogged arteries?”

JL: “So how are you doing man?”

“Oh, I’m doing okay, caught a few bluegill today—down here by the RCA pond fishing where it’s now fucking illegal to fish. But I’m good, real good. But I think two years is all I’ll be able to do out here. Really, eyesight is wasted east of the Mississippi. You people might as well be blind. There is nothing worth seeing out here.”

“I see this ninety pound creature with no teeth, on the side of the road, and it’s screaming at me. I’m like, ‘Is this a horror story or is that a whore?’

“My sister is like, ‘That’s probably a crack whore.’

“Jimmy, it has a face like a catcher’s mitt!”

JL: “Hey Tarl, you ought to see the babes in Baltimore. If you took out the petite little black girls you’d be lucky to find a full set of teeth. It’s nothing but dope-fiends.”

“Really man, where are the Nazis when you need them?”

I guess it must be rough to chase the American dream across the U.S., only hit the housing bumble like a pinball bouncing off a bumper, and then end up as the drifter in a zombie apocalypse flick…