Don't ask me if you can use it, don't ask me if you can see it, don't even ask me to explain how it works.

All I can tell you is that if you get a group of MIT and Georgia Tech guys high enough on imported Canadian indo, and challenge them brusquely enough (i.e., "I bet you pussies can't build a time machine"), then they might just break through the tyrannical old laws of physics and discover the legendary Tesseract: the "Wrinkle in Time".

However, we prefer the term "Cosmogonic Torsion", as we were really "small" when we thought it up and our knowledge of torsions is from the extremely painful testicular condition in which the top of the nut-sack is twisted like a Glad bag. (All but one of us thought this hilarious.) The 360 degree-twisted skin of your ballbag, see, is touching it's wrinkly antipodes. Consider these rubicund gooseberries as normally-separated timelines, and yourself as a single, infinitesimal genital crab, and you can see how "jumping" from one to the other makes it possible to avoid the long slow climb from one nut to the other; from one singular, prescribed timeline to another, anywhere in the future or the past.

Anyway, the Canuck grass helped to get these guys paranoid enough so that, once they'd completed it, they didn't want anything to do with it. I assured them the Pentagon would co-opt it, eventually brainwash and castrate them, and leave them on a military base in the Sunni Triangle.

By dawn, I was alone and examining the authentic collected papyri of Hermes Trismegistus in my underwear.

Oh, I wouldn't go in it. After all, these guys were high as shit. It looks like a hollowed-out refrigerator with a bunch of wires stuffed in it. (That's actually what it is.) Why would I endanger my own life for the future of science? It's bad enough it cost me an ounce and a half of my best herb. No... what I do is set it for the date I want, watch it rattle and emit this strange blue smoke (probably the plutonium), and then, when it settles, I stick my rake in it and just rake anything I can reach into my room.

Don't mock. Yesterday I snagged a prehistoric cave-girl and Truman Capote's dental dam.

God, I've said too much.

Anyway, the point is this: The other day I set it for Mann's Chinese Theater, some Friday (I forget) in November, in the year 2007. I thought I'd catch a movie premiere, and possibly hook in a goodie-bag, or, in my wildest dreams, Kate Beckinsdale... or at least cause some kind of chaos that will make good T.V. in a couple of years.

However, what I got, when I raked through time, was something altogether more interesting, and also mind-blowingly coincidental.

It was indeed a movie premiere, and I apparently raked in (with some difficulty) a small monitor with a live feed of E! Entertainment's red carpet coverage of the premiere of... wait for it... you'll never guess...

JOHN'S ARM: ARMAGEDDON.

I shit you not. This was a complete accident, and an incredibly fortuitous event.

So there ya go, Matty... you'll get your Hollywood Premiere. It's foreseen.

And here's the transcript from the event:

E!: Welcome back to the LA Premiere of "John's Arm: Arm-ageddon". I'm Abdul Hassan Mohammed, one of your hosts for this evening, and I'd just, again, like to thank Allah for the opportunity to broadcast the latest fashions in haute couture and to fill you in on all the Hollywood gossip on this beautiful, balmy evening in the Great Satan's Los Angeles. [Pause.]

And who do we have here, coming up the red carpet in a gorgeous Fellatia Romana dress, her sixteen-foot train being upheld by several small Cambodian boys... but Angelina Jolie!

Angelina sidles up next to Abdul.

JOLIE: Why good morning, brother. Isn?t it a beautiful day? (To one of the Cambodian Boys:) Higher, fool, or it's back to the sub-basement with you!

The small boy begins to weep and disappears under the train as he holds it up.

ABDUL: Are you looking forward to the film?

JOLIE: Oh, yes. I hear there's felching in it. I certainly hope this can aid my campaign to revive "Felching Across America". It's a great idea and not enough people are doing it today.

ABDUL: Indeed, it is only fitting for the capitalist devil swine, such debasement.

JOLIE: (Not paying attention... looking at someone down the carpet.) Yes, I agree. Would you excuse me, please? Those people appear to be happily married.

ABDUL: By all means, please destroy their relationship, Whore of Babylon.

Angelina moves down the row. Abdul sees someone else coming.

And who might this be... is it... I do believe it is...

WILLIAM SHATNER: Let me just say, my beautifully tanned friend, that that turban... is... marvelous!

ABDUL: Thank you. It has religious functionality and verve.

WILLIAM SHATNER: I would say so!

ABDUL: Now, Mr. Shatner, we all heard you were ill. How are you doing?

WILLIAM SHATNER: Kind of you to ask, my semitic comrade...

ABDUL: Not even.

WILLIAM SHATNER: ...but of course I am feeling tres bueno...

ABDUL: What language--?

WILLIAM SHATNER: ...and now that the pins are out, I can walk fully upright again. And of course I... am... here... thanks to the generous and steady stream...

ABDUL: Of urine? I saw that tape...

WILLIAM SHATNER: ...of good wishes and encouragement from Matty Anderson himself. (Looks directly into camera.) Matty boy, thank you so much, once again, for the Ben Wa balls. They fit perfectly, even in my "bent" condition... (Jabs Abdul in the ribs.) You know what I mean, you dirty Arab?

ABDUL is shocked into silence.

WILLIAM SHATNER: Pardon me, Punjab, but I see someone down there that wants my finger in them...

ABDUL: By all means?

SHATNER creeps stealthily through the media at the sides of the carpet as if they are tall jungle grass, making his way toward Kristen Bell of "Veronica Mars".

ABDUL: And now let me throw it over to my co-host, on the other end of this carpet that is the color of the capitalist-spilled blood of a hundred million Moslem children... looking so fabulous I could eat her with a nice lamb curry... Miss Melissa Rivers!

Camera cuts to Melissa Rivers, who looks something like one of those mummified people that lived under Vesuvius..

MELISSA: Thank you so much, Abdul... and let me just say, for the ladies, that uncircumcised men are a ride worth taking...

Camera cuts to ABDUL, who looks up, dismayed, from the small Improvised Explosive Device he is fashioning.

ABDUL: Jesus Christ.

Camera cuts back to Melissa, awkwardly, who has the entire microphone in her mouth.

MELISSA: Mffmph, Mmmdff... mwff... (Takes the mic out of her mouth kind of like Madonna with the water bottle in "Truth or Dare".) I'm sorry. I was just proving something to our camera guy, Darnell. (Looks down the carpet.) Oh, look who we have here, but Flaming Liberal Power Couple Tim Robbins and Susan Sarandon. Oh, Susan, you look lovely in your converted sandwich board dress... and what does that say? "We Are Being Ass-Raped?" And is that a picture of the president? Tres chic, Susan. Radical Vulgarity is very in this year. And Tim, what are you wearing?

TIM ROBBINS: Uh... it's a burlap suit.

MELISSA: That... can't be very comfortable.

TIM ROBBINS: It's... it's, uh, the only clothing still... still made in the United States. (SUSAN SARANDON turns around to talk to a gay nun. TIM ROBBINS gets his face very close to and whispers frantically into the camera.) Please help me! I don't want to wear this thing! My balls are on fire! (Looking quickly behind him.) I don't even care about politics anymore... I can't live on tofu and elderberries a second longer... I used to be a good actor... I could write... now all I can think about is how much my colon hurts and how am I going to get to set when my bio-diesel car keeps getting stolen by hungry and confused homeless people... I just... (SUSAN returns to his side.) And all I have to say to my friend Matt is : "Viva La Revolucion!"

Susan beams at him.

MELISSA: Well, I'm glad all is well in the longest-running Open Marriage in Hollywood...

SARANDON and ROBBINS go off down the runway, handing out poisoned Werthers Originals to all the FOX correspondents.

MELISSA: And who do we have next? Well, hello, sir... don't you look handsome? Is your mommy famous?

PETER DINKLAGE: No... it's... um, I'm famous.

MELISSA: And such a well-spoken little boy, too...

PETER DINKLAGE: I'm not a little boy. I'm a dwarf, see. Not a kid. Maybe you saw me in "The Station Agent", or "Elf." I'm thirty years old.

MELISSA: Awww, you are so cute. And you will be a great actor someday, I'm sure of it...

PETER DINKLAGE: Would you like a Werthers Original?

MELISSA: Oh, no, they tend to get caught in my throat, making me look like a hoe. (To the camera.) That?s H-O-E, people. Don't get any ideas, Darnell. Don't you try and pimp me out or anything... I'm a good girl, you know?(Puts her finger in her mouth seductively.)

DARNELL: (From behind the camera.) I have a degree in Quantum Theory. My ideas are too radical for mainstream science, so I make a living doing this. I'm not planning on... pimping you out. [Beat.] My father was a neurosurgeon.

MELISSA: Oh, right. That's why people always say you're one of the good ones...

DARNELL: Excuse me?

Camera cuts back to ABDUL.

ABDUL: Thank you, Vapid American Mouthpiece, for that enlightening... whatever it was. Now, I'm standing here with one of the cinema's finest actors, and I can't for the life of me understand why I haven't seen more of you lately. Have you retired from show business?

RUDOLPH VALENTINO: I've been dead for decades. I'm just here to present the technical award.

Valentino dissipates into thin air.

ABDUL: Well, that's what you get when you let Peter Jackson direct the Red Carpet Ceremony. I believe the WETA creature shop has even fashioned a stunning likeness of your own dearly departed mother for this evening, eh, Melissa?

Camera cuts to MELISSA and JOAN RIVERS, who is, in fact, a leftover Uruk-hai costume wearing too much blue eye shadow.

MELISSA: And doesn't she look more beautiful than ever? You look so hot, Mom!

JOAN RIVERS: Urrrrrrghaaarrrrrrrkh!

MELISSA: And still cracking zingers, too! (MELISSA peers down the length of the carpet.) Is that who I think it is? You better get up here and talk to us, you!

JAY LENO: Is that thing going to bite?

MELISSA: Oh, Jay, you big silly. That's mom!

JAY LENO: Oh, of course. I should have known. How are you, Joan?

JOAN RIVERS: Urrrrrrrghaaaarrrrrrrrkh! Agh!

JAY LENO: Hilarious. Dom DeLouise is fat. You still got it, baby.

MELISSA RIVERS: So... Jay... I know this is an awkward question, but... I read that you actually die in this film. Is that true?

JAY LENO: Well, it's an animated version of me, sure, but...

MELISSA RIVERS: I believe you are devoured by eels.

JAY LENO: Actually, they're water snakes. And that's what's so spooky. See, all my life I've had a fear of being devoured by water snakes. I dreamt of it every night as a child. And so, of course, when I heard I'd get the chance to actually see it, well, that's an opportunity I couldn't pass up.

MELISSA RIVERS: And it doesn't bother you that, at the after-party, there really is going to be a giant tank of starving water snakes?

JAY LENO: How could I turn down that invitation? Matt actually wants me to give a speech...on a diving board. It's going to be so funny. He said to bring all my leftover monologue jokes.

JOAN RIVERS: Urrrrrrrrghaaaaarrrrrrrrkh! Grrrrknk!

JAY LENO: Stupid? Well, not one of your best, Joan.

JAY LENO waddles down the carpet where Arnold Schwartzenegger quickly re-attaches his leash.

MELISSA: And now we go back to Abdul, who has nabbed an interview with tonight's real star, the Writer-Animator of our premiere, John's Arm: Armageddon.

Camera cuts to ABDUL and MATT, who is dressed, inexplicably, like Zorro.

ABDUL: Thank you, Melissa, and may you be devoured by the flames of America as it burns to cinder and dust.

MATT: That was redundant.

ABDUL: Mind your own business. (Beat.) Now, this must be an exciting night for you, and I realize you must be incredibly proud, but I must ask... what's with the Zorro outfit?

MATT: William Shatner keeps trying to put his finger in me. So I'm in disguise.

ABDUL: Ah. I see. Perhaps you should do as Kristen Bell has and dress like Leonard Nimoy.

MATT: I did that, and then he tried to set me on fire.

ABDUL: Deforrest Kelly?

MATT: He's over there frenching Sulu.

ABDUL: Was he gay?

MATT: I don't think so. But his digitally reanimated corpse appears to be.

ABDUL: And George Takei seems very, very happy.

MATT: Let him be happy. I just hope WETA lets him take him home.

ABDUL: Likely. They're very liberal over in New Zealand.

MATT: Yes. They let their sheep vote.

ABDUL: Is that true?

MATT: How should I know?

ABDUL: I must say, on a personal note, I was very disappointed you didn't blow yourself up on that subway platform. We were really counting on you.

MATT: Who?

ABDUL: You know... the guys?

MATT: Not you?

ABDUL: (Scratching his toe in the dirt.) Maybe a little.

MATT: Yeah, well. What can I say? Success changes you.

ABDUL: Maybe you.

MATT: Oh, and you didn't just do that Calvin Klein shoot with the banana hammock and the four Hindu girls?

ABDUL: (Quickly changing the subject.) Ahem... so... are you excited?

MATT: Yeah, I'm excited. I'm really excited about the after-party.

ABDUL: Orgies?

MATT: No. Baklava and finger sandwiches.

ABDUL: I must say I'm disappointed.

MATT: Because of the greek stuff? Racist.

ABDUL: Radical Moslems can?t be racists.

MATT: So sez you and Cat Stevens. Did you know he yelled "chink" at my mother across a crowded airport?

ABDUL: Your mother's Asian?

MATT: A quarter Mexican. But she is a really bad driver.

ABDUL: You should be ashamed of yourself, racist.

MATT: One-eighth Mexican anemics can't be racist.

ABDUL: I didn't know you were anemic.

MATT: Yep. And I also have an extremely long penis, so when I get an erection, I pass out.

ABDUL: Must have been hard to animate the hardcore girl-girl scenes.

MATT: Not hard at all, actually.

ABDUL: Intense concentration?

MATT: Saltpeter.

ABDUL: I see.

MATT: Hey, have you seen Wampus around?

ABDUL: Unfortunately. He was asking me if I knew what a "poon tree" was. When I answered something appropriately sexual, he became offended and threw water in my face.

MATT: (Laughing.) That?s my boy. Did he say where he put the lid?

ABDUL: "Lid?"

MATT: To the pickle jar... duh. At the After-party I'm planning on sacrificing a virgin to Quetzalcoatl and I need some kosher dills.

ABDUL: Good luck finding one of those around here.

MATT: Pickles?

ABDUL: Virgins.

MATT: What are you talking about? Katie Holmes is right over there.

ABDUL: My mistake.

MATT: Better a bride for ol' "Q" than accepting one of those wacky sperm from L. Ron Hubbard's desiccated old wiener.

ABDUL: I wholeheartedly agree. (Pause.) Now, about the film...

MATT: What about it?

ABDUL: I truly liked it.

MATT: And not just for all the explosions?

ABDUL: Well, I'd be lying if I didn't...

MATT: Seriously, you and the Abortion Clinic Bombing Christian Sociopaths should get together. You?d be unstoppable.

ABDUL: I've thought on such a thing... but alas, those guys are totally nuts.

MATT: I see your dilemma.

ABDUL: Would you describe the film as "A rip-roaring rollercoaster ride through knee-slapping hilarity?"

MATT: Only if I planned to commit seppuku afterwards.

ABDUL: How about "A thrill ride of chills, thrills, and dramatic tension... culminating in an ending so irreverently uproarious that clerics of all denominations who see it spontaneously commit mass apostasy and become slobbering, rampaging hedonists."

MATT: That?s a little better. Though I'd gloss it a little for the matinee showings.

......

And that's where it ended. Somebody yanked the cord out and I lost the feed. However, I did get a couple of nice monitors and somebody's designer pump. (It doesn't fit.)

I figure there's got to be a New York premiere, too, sometime around the same time, so I'm going to try to set the Ol' Reacharound Machine (I just decided to call it that.) for a close-by weekend and see what I can rake in from the future.

Remember, if the Pentagon asks you, you know nothing about this.

--Dread Pirate Revolucion!