It’s midday, and I’m sitting in a booth at Victor’s restaurant in Hollywood with a couple of suspicious-looking characters who are viciously attacking the president — with utensils and condiments. One of the guys goes by Hieronymus Bang. So does the other guy. HB-1, the leader, is wearing large, dark sunglasses, a bushy (fake) beard, a poncho and a peace-emblem necklace. HB-2 has a white mask with eyes and ears outlined in red mascara. While HB-1 stabs the commander in chief in the eye with a fork and knife, HB-2 pours salt in his wounds. Both pause, on occasion, to pull out prop cigars. Sitting between them is somebody — a woman, I’d guess, from her voice — entirely wrapped inside a sleeping bag with two large eyes attached to tentacles at the top and a lightning-bolt mouth sewn on slightly below. Diners... More >>>