I want my NKVD

(to the tune of Dire Straits' "Money for Nothing")

I want my, I want my NKVD
I want my, I want my NKVD

Russian mobster, look like a lobster
Got a Lubyanka mamma on the old Black Sea
That ain't freedom, look at how they screw you
It's freedom for nothin' cause nothing's free

That ain't freedom, look at how they screw you
Lemme tell ya, them guys ain't dumb
Sell your sister, like a transistor
Suitcase bomb, you can have some fun

{Refrain}
We stocking GUM with crates of fucking blue jeans
Designer label posteriors
We got to please these Euro tourists
We're working for the nomenklatura

Here comes the new boss
Just like the old boss
Lemme tell you, these guys are worse
A bullet in the brain can be an act of mercy
A brain that's full of pain is a lifetime curse

Look at them prestoopniks
That's the way you do it!
Brains just like a monkey's
They do what they do and don't know it's crime
That ain't freedom. That's the way they screw you
Papa Joe made the trains run on time

I want my, I want my NKVD
I want my, I want my NKVD

Mulholland Drive, wrapped in plastic

Caught Mulholland Drive on DVD. It resembles Psycho, edited with a chainsaw.

Writing is hard. Jesus Christ, I know that.

It's one thing to write scenes and dialog. That's hard enough. But to make all those scenes and dialog somehow fit together, make you want to keep watching and add up to something? Well, Hitchcock could do it. David Lynch figured out you don't have to do it.

Just write a bunch of scenes and dialog.

And don't make them fit together.