This plane sure is tiny. Good thing I decided to fly first class. I hope dad doesn't bring it up again. He always brings it up this time of year. I hope he doesn't. I hope this is the year he gives it a rest. I wonder if anyone on this plane recognizes me? That one guy keeps looking back, but I think he's looking for the stewardess. I mean flight attendant. I can't really tell if he's looking at me or not because of those sunglasses. Who wears sunglasses on a plane? I took mine off, and I'm a celebrity for pete's sake. It's just impolite. I should be doing the whole sunglasses-baseball cap thing. I bet that's how terrorists and murderers get on planes without being recognized. Wow. That sounded a lot like dad.
God, I hope i'm not turning into him. He makes people feel so bad inside. Malio doesn't even come visit with me anymore. I wish he would. He's so sweet. I know mom loves him like her own son.
Because dad's such a jerk, I can't even spend the holidays with my true love. I think that guy is looking at me. If he wants an autograph, he should just ask! I appreciate all my fans. I hope they all know that. I'm sure they do. Some of them are losers, but they all look up to me. God, I hope dad doesn't escalate things again in front of everyone. He's becoming a drunk. He's going to get on his high horse again and tell me I can't possibly be a good christian because I'm gay. He knows I don't even care. He just wants an excuse to berate me in front of company. So he can sound like he was right about something. “I knew you were gay. All that leather. That wasn't heavy metal, that was all your gay.” Well, I don't have to put up with his shit! I'm the Metal God for pete's sake! I guess that is kind of blasphemous. He's such a fucking jerk. I can't wait to shove him into a retirement home.
Is that stewardess- I mean flight attendant looking at me? Is she smiling? Somebody probably told her who I am. She's probably just being polite. Girls don't listen to metal. Except slutty girls. Man, girls are so gross. How do they walk around with that gross... leaking... blech!
Mom's right about dad; he just hates that he was wrong about my career. “You'll never go anywhere screamin' at the top of your lungs like a girl! You should take up a real job, like tile!” I sure showed him! Four-octaves showed him! HA! I wish I could have seen his face the first time we went platinum. Nothing's ever good enough for him. Even buying them a house didn't help, although i really just did that for mom. Well- and also so I didn't have to sleep in my stupid old high school room. Or on the couch. Or in a hotel.
I know what I'll do. If dad just starts in with his anti-gay shit, I'll sing a really high note and really belt it out and hold it! Then I'll just tell everyone I was practicing or showing off or something. They'll probably all applaud! That'll shut him up. Mom's always proud of my singing. If she hadn't signed me up for choir in middle school, who knows where I'd be? I'd probably be at Dad's tile business. I'd be a floor manager or something. For tile. That would be horrible. Ok, that guy's tilting his sunglasses down and looking at me. Is he winking? Wow. What a douche-bag. I should flip him off. That would be so metal. I really should. Right now. I should just flip him off. And glare at him. And maybe stick my tongue out. I'm glad I'm only staying in town for three days. Oh good, we're landing.
Thursday, December 24, 2009
Thursday, December 3, 2009
47-Year Old Man Enjoys New Moon Over Dark Knight
New York, New York- You wouldn't know if by looking at him, but Curtis Grimes is a Twilight fan. His 47-year old appearance and male-pattern baldness belie a man who enjoys a vampire fantasy series actively marketed towards “tweens”, the largest demographic of Twilight fans, consisting of youths aged 10-12.
“I heard New Moon was bigger than Dark Knight, so I had to check it out for myself, and I loved the experience,” Curtis states.
Mr. Grimes is of course referring to the famous box-office record-breaking sales of the Dark Knight on its opening night. “New Moon was like no experience I've ever had. In the Dark Knight, I was glued to the screen the entire time; in New Moon, I could NOT take my eyes off the theater audience! It redefined my definition of what a movie experience can be.”
Curtis recounts in detail how he arrived at the theater and was fascinated by the fellow crowd of moviegoers, notably the young women. “Just standing in the ticket line was great. All these girls all around me. They were on and off their cellphones constantly, or talking to other nearby girls; so completely distracted, they didn't notice me staring at them for extremely long periods of time! I usually have to stare at underage girls from between other people on the subway, but this was right out in the open! It was very liberating.”
Curtis paints a vivid picture of the beginning of the movie: “When I actually got into the theater, I sat in the back, like I usually do, and started scanning the crowd. I don't want to ruin the movie for those who haven't seen it, but it was just so great. The surprise twist? There were NO men except for me! I was in a theater completely filled with young girls!”
Mr. Grimes then reaches into his trench-coat pockets and pulls out several locks of hair, tied neatly with different colored bows. “The absence of other men in the theater was great, but then the second twist in the movie hit: these girls were all completely engrossed in the movie. And I mean completely! I started moving through the crowd and sort of bumping up against them a little. The only time they noticed anything at all was when their cell phone rang, or when I blocked their view of the screen. That's how I was able to gather my little collection here.”
With this memory, Curtis then giggles, smells a lock of hair deeply, and sighs.“It's just the best movie ever. I can't wait to see it again.”
“I heard New Moon was bigger than Dark Knight, so I had to check it out for myself, and I loved the experience,” Curtis states.
Mr. Grimes is of course referring to the famous box-office record-breaking sales of the Dark Knight on its opening night. “New Moon was like no experience I've ever had. In the Dark Knight, I was glued to the screen the entire time; in New Moon, I could NOT take my eyes off the theater audience! It redefined my definition of what a movie experience can be.”
Curtis recounts in detail how he arrived at the theater and was fascinated by the fellow crowd of moviegoers, notably the young women. “Just standing in the ticket line was great. All these girls all around me. They were on and off their cellphones constantly, or talking to other nearby girls; so completely distracted, they didn't notice me staring at them for extremely long periods of time! I usually have to stare at underage girls from between other people on the subway, but this was right out in the open! It was very liberating.”
Curtis paints a vivid picture of the beginning of the movie: “When I actually got into the theater, I sat in the back, like I usually do, and started scanning the crowd. I don't want to ruin the movie for those who haven't seen it, but it was just so great. The surprise twist? There were NO men except for me! I was in a theater completely filled with young girls!”
Mr. Grimes then reaches into his trench-coat pockets and pulls out several locks of hair, tied neatly with different colored bows. “The absence of other men in the theater was great, but then the second twist in the movie hit: these girls were all completely engrossed in the movie. And I mean completely! I started moving through the crowd and sort of bumping up against them a little. The only time they noticed anything at all was when their cell phone rang, or when I blocked their view of the screen. That's how I was able to gather my little collection here.”
With this memory, Curtis then giggles, smells a lock of hair deeply, and sighs.“It's just the best movie ever. I can't wait to see it again.”
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
So You're Stupid, a Guide to Pretending Otherwise: Chapter 1
You're stupid. You've admitted it, and now you're seeking help. I want to congratulate you! That's the first step towards making your stupid life better.
First thing's first though; you are stupid and will be forever. This book will not change that. This book will however, mask your stupidity from the rest of the world and may lead to promotions, dating, new job opportunities, more friends, and definitely more confidence!
It's not easy to fool people when you're stupid. Especially people who aren't stupid. Let's call this type of people “Smart” people, shall we? Smart people are very quick to pick up on the fact that you're stupid. You've got to be perfect from the beginning around them, or else they will see you as a sheep in wolf's clothing. That's an example of a “smart” idea: a truncated and intentionally-reversed extended metaphor using the structure of a simile. You scoffed at things like this in school, but metaphors, similes, and other clever literary devices are a fundamental part of smart people conversation. Similes and metaphors are discussed in detail later in this book, so we won't worry about them now.
Instead, what we'll focus on now is the face you made after reading that sentence about the wolf and the sheep. You scrunched your nose tightly and rolled your eyes around in the hopes that your brain would explain why I was talking about animals. If you are smarter, but still stupid, you waited to make the face until I started talking about all that simile and metaphor stuff. This frowny-eye-rolling is a common face that stupid people make when presented with something that bores them or something they don't understand. This book is about fixing stupid habits just like that face!
Most of the stupid habits you have are based on your stupid instincts. Right now, I want you to close your mouth, and breathe through your nose. TRUST ME, you won't suffocate! Go ahead and try it. You see? Now you know you can trust me.
It's not necessary to understand WHY I want you to do the things I want you to do. The important thing is that you DO them and practice them, over and over, for the rest of your life. Most of these things will be difficult. Breathing through your nose alone will take years for you to master. You currently breathe through your mouth because the “instinct” part of your brain is looking out for your survival. This is because the cognitive or “thinking” part of your brain isn't capable of making good decisions. Stupid people like yourself are prone to doing things directly opposed to your own survival. For instance, I'm sure you've found yourself at one time or another in a single-person competition for stuffing the most miniature marshmallows into your nose to see how many will fit. Since this is literally smothering yourself for no reason, your brain makes you breathe out of your mouth, since it figures you'll live longer that way.
Don't worry! You will still be able to indulge all of your fun, stupid impulses. I'll simply teach you how to save them for “private time”, or “stupid friend hang-out time.” when you're around other people as stupid, or more stupid, than you are. This book is full of helpful, good habits like “stupid friend hang-out time”. However, every habit will take practice to master, so I want you to make a promise with me.
Go ahead and read this out loud: “I promise that I will follow the instructions in this book. I promise that I will practice every day, and that I won't give up, no matter how frustrating it is for my stupid brain. Sincerely, me!”
There. You've just made a promise to both you and I. You said it out loud, so you have to stick to it. It's too late to turn back now, which is wonderful, because you're going to have a great new life! (if you think you and I are the same person, or opposite people from when this introduction began, you're still reading out loud. Please stop reading out loud.)
To create a sense of familiarity, which will subconsciously compel you to finish the rest of the chapters through recognition, despite your short attention span, Just for fun, I'll give you a brief overview of the topics we will cover in-depth during the rest of this guide.
The first half of this book is all about breaking down and hiding the stupid things you do:
Chapter 1 is what you're reading right now.
In chapter 2, I will tell you tricks to keep your stupid life separate from your new smart life. This will be an ongoing process. You will learn to enjoy top 40 music and Michael Bay movies secretly while alone or with a few select stupid friends, instead of loudly and in front of everyone.
In chapter 3, I'll teach you how to shut your mouth before it says the stupid thing you just thought. You'll learn to use silence with making faces to pretend that you're deep in thought.
The second half of this book is all about the tricks you can use to pretend you're smart:
In chapter 4, we'll reread the first half of the book, because you'll have skipped ahead, thinking you didn't need to learn those techniques and “do homework from a stupid book”.
In chapter 5, you get a makeover! As fun as it seems, this will actually be one of the hardest sections of the book, and one of the most important. You will learn to dress in a “nerd costume” for the rest of your life. Calm down! Stop wrinkling your face, stop chewing your lip, quit punching whatever you're punching, and listen up. You know deep down that “nerds” are the very smartest of smart people. The benefit of looking like a nerd is that smart people will assume you are socially awkward instead of stupid and will therefore more readily ignore whenever you slip up and do stupid things.
In chapter 6, I'll discuss using props to appear smart. We will discuss scavenging techniques for smart props, including making habits for success. You'll learn how to search local coffee shops every morning for partially-completed crossword puzzles to spend the rest of the day pretending to fill out. Tips like this will give silent proof of your “smarts” when people might otherwise see through your smart costume.
In chapter 7, I'll help you get into the habit of saying smart things and inventing opinions. It DOESN'T MATTER what your opinions are. The only important thing is to NEVER CHANGE YOUR MIND about your opinions. You'll learn to be condescending about other people's opinions. I'll even teach you phrases to use if you get into hot water with someone such as “I suppose we'll just have to agree to disagree!” You'll also learn to memorize a single generic quote to use at parties and whenever you want to impress someone of the opposite sex.
The third half of this book is all about using your newfound techniques to SECURE your future:
In chapter 8, I'll give you a lie detector test to be sure you've read every chapter thoroughly. If not, i'll remind you that you made a promise to me, and make you go back and read what you skipped.
In chapter 9, I'll teach you about material investments. It's important to invest in “things” and “stuff” that will make you appear smart for the rest of your life: a modestly large house, a slightly above-average car, and many more material things. Your stupid thinking is right in assuming the more things you own, the better; but you have to own the RIGHT KINDS of things! Filling your house with the right long-term props is very important. You'll learn about chess and backgammon boards. You'll check prices on pianos and expensive-looking (but not extravagant!) artwork.
In chapter 10, you'll hire an accountant and do EXACTLY what they tell you do with your money. I'll tell you briefly what a saving account is and why it's better not to run out and spend every paycheck immediately on liquor and clubbing. Even though you won't understand right away why this is bad; when you see how savings and investments lead to MORE liquor, you'll be happy you listened.
In chapter 11, you'll invent a new category of people you can look down on for the rest of your life, like “Liberal Elites” or “Right Wing Fascists”. This is a prime time to hire a writer to write a book with your name on it! Tell everyone you wrote the book. This is key.
In our last chapter, chapter 12, you'll make the most important investment in your future; tricking a beautiful INTELLIGENT person into loving and marrying you. This will be the most difficult thing you will EVER do and it will take all the resources you've built and all the techniques you've learned. You will master keeping your stupid life and your smart life separate by passing off your stupidity once and for all as something else. We will discuss faking Asperger's Syndrome, Social Anxiety Disorder, and the like.
By the end of this book, you will be a new person; a person you've invented. You will be successful beyond belief, and you'll have someone who loves you for the rest of your life.
Does this sound too good to be true? Well guess what? I'M A STUPID JUST LIKE YOU! Or at least, I used to be. But following my own system, I've made a wonderful, explosive new life as a SMART! I'm CEO of my own Fortune 500 company, I have a syndicated talk radio show, I'm married to a supermodel, I live in a mansion in Beverly Hills, and I have three somewhat intelligent children. I'm sure you don't believe me, but it's true. All the “smart” phrases I've used in this book were painfully constructed over several years using a dictionary, a smart writer friend, and the help of my brilliant wife. My system worked for me! IT WILL WORK FOR YOU!!!
First thing's first though; you are stupid and will be forever. This book will not change that. This book will however, mask your stupidity from the rest of the world and may lead to promotions, dating, new job opportunities, more friends, and definitely more confidence!
It's not easy to fool people when you're stupid. Especially people who aren't stupid. Let's call this type of people “Smart” people, shall we? Smart people are very quick to pick up on the fact that you're stupid. You've got to be perfect from the beginning around them, or else they will see you as a sheep in wolf's clothing. That's an example of a “smart” idea: a truncated and intentionally-reversed extended metaphor using the structure of a simile. You scoffed at things like this in school, but metaphors, similes, and other clever literary devices are a fundamental part of smart people conversation. Similes and metaphors are discussed in detail later in this book, so we won't worry about them now.
Instead, what we'll focus on now is the face you made after reading that sentence about the wolf and the sheep. You scrunched your nose tightly and rolled your eyes around in the hopes that your brain would explain why I was talking about animals. If you are smarter, but still stupid, you waited to make the face until I started talking about all that simile and metaphor stuff. This frowny-eye-rolling is a common face that stupid people make when presented with something that bores them or something they don't understand. This book is about fixing stupid habits just like that face!
Most of the stupid habits you have are based on your stupid instincts. Right now, I want you to close your mouth, and breathe through your nose. TRUST ME, you won't suffocate! Go ahead and try it. You see? Now you know you can trust me.
It's not necessary to understand WHY I want you to do the things I want you to do. The important thing is that you DO them and practice them, over and over, for the rest of your life. Most of these things will be difficult. Breathing through your nose alone will take years for you to master. You currently breathe through your mouth because the “instinct” part of your brain is looking out for your survival. This is because the cognitive or “thinking” part of your brain isn't capable of making good decisions. Stupid people like yourself are prone to doing things directly opposed to your own survival. For instance, I'm sure you've found yourself at one time or another in a single-person competition for stuffing the most miniature marshmallows into your nose to see how many will fit. Since this is literally smothering yourself for no reason, your brain makes you breathe out of your mouth, since it figures you'll live longer that way.
Don't worry! You will still be able to indulge all of your fun, stupid impulses. I'll simply teach you how to save them for “private time”, or “stupid friend hang-out time.” when you're around other people as stupid, or more stupid, than you are. This book is full of helpful, good habits like “stupid friend hang-out time”. However, every habit will take practice to master, so I want you to make a promise with me.
Go ahead and read this out loud: “I promise that I will follow the instructions in this book. I promise that I will practice every day, and that I won't give up, no matter how frustrating it is for my stupid brain. Sincerely, me!”
There. You've just made a promise to both you and I. You said it out loud, so you have to stick to it. It's too late to turn back now, which is wonderful, because you're going to have a great new life! (if you think you and I are the same person, or opposite people from when this introduction began, you're still reading out loud. Please stop reading out loud.)
To create a sense of familiarity, which will subconsciously compel you to finish the rest of the chapters through recognition, despite your short attention span, Just for fun, I'll give you a brief overview of the topics we will cover in-depth during the rest of this guide.
The first half of this book is all about breaking down and hiding the stupid things you do:
Chapter 1 is what you're reading right now.
In chapter 2, I will tell you tricks to keep your stupid life separate from your new smart life. This will be an ongoing process. You will learn to enjoy top 40 music and Michael Bay movies secretly while alone or with a few select stupid friends, instead of loudly and in front of everyone.
In chapter 3, I'll teach you how to shut your mouth before it says the stupid thing you just thought. You'll learn to use silence with making faces to pretend that you're deep in thought.
The second half of this book is all about the tricks you can use to pretend you're smart:
In chapter 4, we'll reread the first half of the book, because you'll have skipped ahead, thinking you didn't need to learn those techniques and “do homework from a stupid book”.
In chapter 5, you get a makeover! As fun as it seems, this will actually be one of the hardest sections of the book, and one of the most important. You will learn to dress in a “nerd costume” for the rest of your life. Calm down! Stop wrinkling your face, stop chewing your lip, quit punching whatever you're punching, and listen up. You know deep down that “nerds” are the very smartest of smart people. The benefit of looking like a nerd is that smart people will assume you are socially awkward instead of stupid and will therefore more readily ignore whenever you slip up and do stupid things.
In chapter 6, I'll discuss using props to appear smart. We will discuss scavenging techniques for smart props, including making habits for success. You'll learn how to search local coffee shops every morning for partially-completed crossword puzzles to spend the rest of the day pretending to fill out. Tips like this will give silent proof of your “smarts” when people might otherwise see through your smart costume.
In chapter 7, I'll help you get into the habit of saying smart things and inventing opinions. It DOESN'T MATTER what your opinions are. The only important thing is to NEVER CHANGE YOUR MIND about your opinions. You'll learn to be condescending about other people's opinions. I'll even teach you phrases to use if you get into hot water with someone such as “I suppose we'll just have to agree to disagree!” You'll also learn to memorize a single generic quote to use at parties and whenever you want to impress someone of the opposite sex.
The third half of this book is all about using your newfound techniques to SECURE your future:
In chapter 8, I'll give you a lie detector test to be sure you've read every chapter thoroughly. If not, i'll remind you that you made a promise to me, and make you go back and read what you skipped.
In chapter 9, I'll teach you about material investments. It's important to invest in “things” and “stuff” that will make you appear smart for the rest of your life: a modestly large house, a slightly above-average car, and many more material things. Your stupid thinking is right in assuming the more things you own, the better; but you have to own the RIGHT KINDS of things! Filling your house with the right long-term props is very important. You'll learn about chess and backgammon boards. You'll check prices on pianos and expensive-looking (but not extravagant!) artwork.
In chapter 10, you'll hire an accountant and do EXACTLY what they tell you do with your money. I'll tell you briefly what a saving account is and why it's better not to run out and spend every paycheck immediately on liquor and clubbing. Even though you won't understand right away why this is bad; when you see how savings and investments lead to MORE liquor, you'll be happy you listened.
In chapter 11, you'll invent a new category of people you can look down on for the rest of your life, like “Liberal Elites” or “Right Wing Fascists”. This is a prime time to hire a writer to write a book with your name on it! Tell everyone you wrote the book. This is key.
In our last chapter, chapter 12, you'll make the most important investment in your future; tricking a beautiful INTELLIGENT person into loving and marrying you. This will be the most difficult thing you will EVER do and it will take all the resources you've built and all the techniques you've learned. You will master keeping your stupid life and your smart life separate by passing off your stupidity once and for all as something else. We will discuss faking Asperger's Syndrome, Social Anxiety Disorder, and the like.
By the end of this book, you will be a new person; a person you've invented. You will be successful beyond belief, and you'll have someone who loves you for the rest of your life.
Does this sound too good to be true? Well guess what? I'M A STUPID JUST LIKE YOU! Or at least, I used to be. But following my own system, I've made a wonderful, explosive new life as a SMART! I'm CEO of my own Fortune 500 company, I have a syndicated talk radio show, I'm married to a supermodel, I live in a mansion in Beverly Hills, and I have three somewhat intelligent children. I'm sure you don't believe me, but it's true. All the “smart” phrases I've used in this book were painfully constructed over several years using a dictionary, a smart writer friend, and the help of my brilliant wife. My system worked for me! IT WILL WORK FOR YOU!!!
Saturday, November 14, 2009
George Washington's Body Discovered!
Thought by many to be lost to the sands of time, archaeologists recently unearthed the body of the first president of the United States, George Washington. For hundreds of years, the disappearance and presumed death of the first president was shrouded in mystery, but now it appears that many shocking details are finally coming to light. Groundbreaking as this discovery is, it appears that for the scientific community, there are now more questions than answers.
Professor Keith Buhrningman, head of the American History department at Stanford University, has openly stated that he "will never think of ol' Georgie boy the same again." When pressed for actual details, prof. Buhrningman declined to comment further. However, a factual rumour overheard in the lab stated that the famous legend of the late president’s wooden teeth was grossly understated and perhaps even downplayed.
Doctor Thomas Wūdstock, Harvard drop-out, is soon to release a book, The Six Hundred Dollar Man, detailing the scientific community's findings.
"I can't give too much away, but I will say that from our early observations, it appears that his teeth weren't the only wooden part of George Washington. Over two-thirds of Washington's body was replaced with rich, polished wood! And not just bones; a few major organs were replaced with extremely intricate wooden cogs and machinery. Buy my book.”
When asked which organs were replaced, and what powered the wooden machinery, Wūdstock replied,”It's easy to get swept up in all this “wooden man” hooplah, but people are forgetting the most important mystery of all: what kind of wood it is. My money is on mahogany. Keith and most other scientists have bet on oak, so if I'm right, more winnings for me! Oh, also, his body was riddled with bullet holes, which is important to historians, but not important to scientists. Buy my book.”
Secret reports passed between scientists contain Da Vinci-esque diagrams of what can only be described as a half-human, half-wooden cyborg.
This new information has sparked endless speculation, not only in the scientific community, but also in popular online chat communities or “chatmunities”.
Self-named "Doc" “Reginald” “McSteamery” runs the website Steampunkjunkie.com, where chat topics have ranged from the light-hearted "Washington costume ideas!" to the cryptic "Ye olde conspiracie? WTF?!"
Doc McSteamery states, "This is so totally awesome! Did you see the gears and machinery? Made of REAL WOOD?! God, that's just so... I mean the craftsmanship... wow! If they find out he has brass parts too or was steam-powered, I'll die. I'll literally die. This is truly another great first for America; we're the greatest great in the entire great!"
The implications this information has for America's- and even maybe the world's- history, is staggering. A wooden cyborg as first president might possibly mean taking a second glance at the rules regarding presidential elections and appointments. If this seems sure to raise political controversy, it won't be the first time; this presidential secret stirred the controversy kettle, even in Washington's time.
Alongside Washington's body was found a partially-burned confession letter. In it, Aaron Burr writes that “two hired goons” coerced him into “murdering [his] only friend, Alexander Hamilton.” The letter then states the two goons, “Franklin and Adams”, told Burr that “Hamilton knew too much for his own big mouth” and that Burr “had to shut him up real bullet-like.” The confession goes on to say that Washington was intending to silence Hamilton himself, but that he ultimately “didn’t want to get his greasy wooden mitts dirty” in connection with the murder. It's certainly difficult to envision America's first president as a wooden cyborg president, but a wooden cyborg assassin president sounds even more fantastical. Is there any proof of George Washington as a killer, aside from the well-documented accounts of his battles?
A third item was found in Washington's hidden tomb: A wooden gun held in his human right hand, next to several wooden bullets. The gun appears to have fit neatly inside the president's hollow right thigh, which was entirely wooden, velvet-lined, and opened up specifically for gun-storage. The last item in the casket, a wooden pepper mill labeled “Whompin’ Washington’s pepper spray” was found resting in a holster in Washington’s leather belt. The gun and pepper spray combination has led top police experts to believe Washington may have served as a kind of judge, jury, and executionary robotic law enforcer.
“No doubt about it, Washington ran this country with a wooden fist,” says New York Chief of Police Randy Fish. Fish is not pleased with Buhrningman, Wūdstock or any of the other music festivals scientists.
“At first I thought those scientists were doing good work, but any first-year cop can tell you that only most of the holes in Washington’s body are bullet holes; the rest of ‘em are termites holes. From the angle of the bullet entry wounds, my forensics department has concluded that Washington was such a badass, he actually shot the termites out of himself from time to time.”
But what of the larger picture? Does this evidence of primitive technology mean there may now be cyborgs living among us constructed of stone, or bronze or even iron? Only time will tell. Until then, one thing is certain: we “soft-skins” can only hope they're as wonderful and patriotic as our beloved wooden cyborg assassin president, who could apparently tell a lie.
Professor Keith Buhrningman, head of the American History department at Stanford University, has openly stated that he "will never think of ol' Georgie boy the same again." When pressed for actual details, prof. Buhrningman declined to comment further. However, a factual rumour overheard in the lab stated that the famous legend of the late president’s wooden teeth was grossly understated and perhaps even downplayed.
Doctor Thomas Wūdstock, Harvard drop-out, is soon to release a book, The Six Hundred Dollar Man, detailing the scientific community's findings.
"I can't give too much away, but I will say that from our early observations, it appears that his teeth weren't the only wooden part of George Washington. Over two-thirds of Washington's body was replaced with rich, polished wood! And not just bones; a few major organs were replaced with extremely intricate wooden cogs and machinery. Buy my book.”
When asked which organs were replaced, and what powered the wooden machinery, Wūdstock replied,”It's easy to get swept up in all this “wooden man” hooplah, but people are forgetting the most important mystery of all: what kind of wood it is. My money is on mahogany. Keith and most other scientists have bet on oak, so if I'm right, more winnings for me! Oh, also, his body was riddled with bullet holes, which is important to historians, but not important to scientists. Buy my book.”
Secret reports passed between scientists contain Da Vinci-esque diagrams of what can only be described as a half-human, half-wooden cyborg.
This new information has sparked endless speculation, not only in the scientific community, but also in popular online chat communities or “chatmunities”.
Self-named "Doc" “Reginald” “McSteamery” runs the website Steampunkjunkie.com, where chat topics have ranged from the light-hearted "Washington costume ideas!" to the cryptic "Ye olde conspiracie? WTF?!"
Doc McSteamery states, "This is so totally awesome! Did you see the gears and machinery? Made of REAL WOOD?! God, that's just so... I mean the craftsmanship... wow! If they find out he has brass parts too or was steam-powered, I'll die. I'll literally die. This is truly another great first for America; we're the greatest great in the entire great!"
The implications this information has for America's- and even maybe the world's- history, is staggering. A wooden cyborg as first president might possibly mean taking a second glance at the rules regarding presidential elections and appointments. If this seems sure to raise political controversy, it won't be the first time; this presidential secret stirred the controversy kettle, even in Washington's time.
Alongside Washington's body was found a partially-burned confession letter. In it, Aaron Burr writes that “two hired goons” coerced him into “murdering [his] only friend, Alexander Hamilton.” The letter then states the two goons, “Franklin and Adams”, told Burr that “Hamilton knew too much for his own big mouth” and that Burr “had to shut him up real bullet-like.” The confession goes on to say that Washington was intending to silence Hamilton himself, but that he ultimately “didn’t want to get his greasy wooden mitts dirty” in connection with the murder. It's certainly difficult to envision America's first president as a wooden cyborg president, but a wooden cyborg assassin president sounds even more fantastical. Is there any proof of George Washington as a killer, aside from the well-documented accounts of his battles?
A third item was found in Washington's hidden tomb: A wooden gun held in his human right hand, next to several wooden bullets. The gun appears to have fit neatly inside the president's hollow right thigh, which was entirely wooden, velvet-lined, and opened up specifically for gun-storage. The last item in the casket, a wooden pepper mill labeled “Whompin’ Washington’s pepper spray” was found resting in a holster in Washington’s leather belt. The gun and pepper spray combination has led top police experts to believe Washington may have served as a kind of judge, jury, and executionary robotic law enforcer.
“No doubt about it, Washington ran this country with a wooden fist,” says New York Chief of Police Randy Fish. Fish is not pleased with Buhrningman, Wūdstock or any of the other music festivals scientists.
“At first I thought those scientists were doing good work, but any first-year cop can tell you that only most of the holes in Washington’s body are bullet holes; the rest of ‘em are termites holes. From the angle of the bullet entry wounds, my forensics department has concluded that Washington was such a badass, he actually shot the termites out of himself from time to time.”
But what of the larger picture? Does this evidence of primitive technology mean there may now be cyborgs living among us constructed of stone, or bronze or even iron? Only time will tell. Until then, one thing is certain: we “soft-skins” can only hope they're as wonderful and patriotic as our beloved wooden cyborg assassin president, who could apparently tell a lie.
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Gotham High
Ok, so we've all seen batman as a grownup: incredibly awesome and guaranteed box office GOLD. Batman as a kid would be boring: boohoo dead parents and all that. But what about batman as a TEEN?!
BOOMPOW!
Enter Gotham High,
Wait, what is that?
Is that success I smell a-brewin'?
Before I lay it all out, I'll ease your mind by saying we already have a sequel in the works: Gotham University! (and a threequel: Gotham post-grad!)
Now, strap into your pampers because this movie is going to shit money. Literally.
Batman and Joker: two seniors in high school. They both have built their reputations or the past three years, and now they're the top dawgs of Gotham High. This means one thing of course: RIVALRY!
They're totally rivals!
We see them pass each other in the hall and Batman's like “something smells poor. Joker must be nearby!” Then he and his snob friends chuckle and Batman's monocle falls out of his face from laughing so hard and he almost spills his martini. Also Catwoman is his girlfriend and she's the head cheerleader.
Then Joker punches him and the teacher, who is the Green Lantern, breaks them up and is like “superheroes aren't supposed to fight! Get back to class you knuckleheads before I send you to principal Spiderman!” and they're both like shrugging their shoulders and looking cool and like “whatever.” They both know mean old principal Spiderman is mad at them for always being rivals and tearing the school spirit in half instead of acting like the brothers they are. Also Catwoman is the joker's girlfriend and she's head of the spirit squad.
All of a sudden, this rivalry is about to explode!!! why?
Because Samantha Campbell is a new transfer student who just moved from New York out here to California to attend Gotham High School. And she is totally mind-blowingly hot! You'd better believe it!
So they're in chemistry class throwing insult-notes at each other and then, in walks Samantha Campbell, and BAM! jaws=on floor. heads=turned.
Batman's all like “you can sit here Samantha!” and joker's like “i got you flowers Samantha!” and Batman's like “you can wear my varsity jacket Samantha!” And the teacher, who is the Punisher is like “everyone settle down! There are two things I know about: Chemistry and punishing!”
so they all sit down, and Batman and Joker make angry eyes at each other so it's clear to the audience that it's ON!
So we see Joker at home and hes family's all mean and his dad's a gambler-drunk and he's like “no one understands me!” and he runs into the yard and gets into his purple camaro and peels rubber outta there! Then we see Batman at home and his mom's like “why don't you buy her things? That's how your father and I met.” and his dad's like “she's not good enough for you son. We need a family that's fat with mutual funds and banking! I raised you better than this!” And Batman cries a single tear because he's rich and rich people don't know how to cry properly. Then he leaves on his harley, and puts on his leather jacket, which has a skull on the back (skulls are scarier than bats).
Then Batman pulls up to the red light and who should be there but the joker in his purple camaro. And they both look at each other all sad, and we can just tell that they used to be best friends because of family stuff. Then before they can be best friends again, or say a word, Samantha pulls up to the light in her daddy's ferrari, which is candy red, like Samantha's blonde hair, which is dyed black now to match the car. Batman sees her black hair and he winks at joker like she dyed it black to match his batman suit. Joker revs his engine and batman revs his motorbike and the light turns green and they're off! We blast Sammy Hagar's “Heavy Metal” as loud as the theatre speakers can go, BLASTO!
They race all through town, and Samantha is following to see which one will win her heart, and they both have gadgets in their vehicles like james bond, but the joker's are all krappy like with duct tape and milk jugs, but they're still powerful (he's poor, but scrappy!).
This race signifies that snobs will always be versus slobs in life and teenagers should get used to it and find out who they really are inside, so it's kind of a feel-good life lesson movie too.
Then they both crash into fireballs in the side of a building that ironically is owned by the evil Daredevil corporation.
And Iron Man comes out of the building in a tuxedo and he's like “you'll pay for this damage, you knuckleheads!”
They both look at Samantha, who is eating a popsicle, and they realize they can't run away like cowards. It's time to team up and fight together! So Batman uses his gadgets and Joker uses his laughing and they both are winning the fight against Iron Man, but then he turns into the HULK and says “it's clobberin' time!!!” they both get their noses bloodied, but after a sweet 45-minute cgi battle, they emerge victorious. They look at Samantha, but she is eating a banana with her throat and isn't impressed with either of them yet.
So they look at each other and they're like “i guess now it's time to fight each other for her love.”
they are both bloody and broken-nosed and batman's cape is all beat up and then professor Punisher shows up and he's like Samantha, you're causing all of this?!”
Samantha says “Mr. Punisher, I really need straight A's if you catch my drift.” (the audience is like “Oh ho-HO! It's an erection thing!)
and the Punisher and Samantha walk away arm in arm and Batman and Joker learn a valuable lesson about women and vow never to fight each other again. But then another hot girl comes into the screen (EVEN HOTTER than Samantha!!!), and she's like “I'm Nadia, the new exchange student from Norway.” Then Batman and the Joker look at each other and make angry eyes and the credits roll as we kick in with ACDC's “Back in Black”.
BOOMPOW!
Enter Gotham High,
Wait, what is that?
Is that success I smell a-brewin'?
Before I lay it all out, I'll ease your mind by saying we already have a sequel in the works: Gotham University! (and a threequel: Gotham post-grad!)
Now, strap into your pampers because this movie is going to shit money. Literally.
Batman and Joker: two seniors in high school. They both have built their reputations or the past three years, and now they're the top dawgs of Gotham High. This means one thing of course: RIVALRY!
They're totally rivals!
We see them pass each other in the hall and Batman's like “something smells poor. Joker must be nearby!” Then he and his snob friends chuckle and Batman's monocle falls out of his face from laughing so hard and he almost spills his martini. Also Catwoman is his girlfriend and she's the head cheerleader.
Then Joker punches him and the teacher, who is the Green Lantern, breaks them up and is like “superheroes aren't supposed to fight! Get back to class you knuckleheads before I send you to principal Spiderman!” and they're both like shrugging their shoulders and looking cool and like “whatever.” They both know mean old principal Spiderman is mad at them for always being rivals and tearing the school spirit in half instead of acting like the brothers they are. Also Catwoman is the joker's girlfriend and she's head of the spirit squad.
All of a sudden, this rivalry is about to explode!!! why?
Because Samantha Campbell is a new transfer student who just moved from New York out here to California to attend Gotham High School. And she is totally mind-blowingly hot! You'd better believe it!
So they're in chemistry class throwing insult-notes at each other and then, in walks Samantha Campbell, and BAM! jaws=on floor. heads=turned.
Batman's all like “you can sit here Samantha!” and joker's like “i got you flowers Samantha!” and Batman's like “you can wear my varsity jacket Samantha!” And the teacher, who is the Punisher is like “everyone settle down! There are two things I know about: Chemistry and punishing!”
so they all sit down, and Batman and Joker make angry eyes at each other so it's clear to the audience that it's ON!
So we see Joker at home and hes family's all mean and his dad's a gambler-drunk and he's like “no one understands me!” and he runs into the yard and gets into his purple camaro and peels rubber outta there! Then we see Batman at home and his mom's like “why don't you buy her things? That's how your father and I met.” and his dad's like “she's not good enough for you son. We need a family that's fat with mutual funds and banking! I raised you better than this!” And Batman cries a single tear because he's rich and rich people don't know how to cry properly. Then he leaves on his harley, and puts on his leather jacket, which has a skull on the back (skulls are scarier than bats).
Then Batman pulls up to the red light and who should be there but the joker in his purple camaro. And they both look at each other all sad, and we can just tell that they used to be best friends because of family stuff. Then before they can be best friends again, or say a word, Samantha pulls up to the light in her daddy's ferrari, which is candy red, like Samantha's blonde hair, which is dyed black now to match the car. Batman sees her black hair and he winks at joker like she dyed it black to match his batman suit. Joker revs his engine and batman revs his motorbike and the light turns green and they're off! We blast Sammy Hagar's “Heavy Metal” as loud as the theatre speakers can go, BLASTO!
They race all through town, and Samantha is following to see which one will win her heart, and they both have gadgets in their vehicles like james bond, but the joker's are all krappy like with duct tape and milk jugs, but they're still powerful (he's poor, but scrappy!).
This race signifies that snobs will always be versus slobs in life and teenagers should get used to it and find out who they really are inside, so it's kind of a feel-good life lesson movie too.
Then they both crash into fireballs in the side of a building that ironically is owned by the evil Daredevil corporation.
And Iron Man comes out of the building in a tuxedo and he's like “you'll pay for this damage, you knuckleheads!”
They both look at Samantha, who is eating a popsicle, and they realize they can't run away like cowards. It's time to team up and fight together! So Batman uses his gadgets and Joker uses his laughing and they both are winning the fight against Iron Man, but then he turns into the HULK and says “it's clobberin' time!!!” they both get their noses bloodied, but after a sweet 45-minute cgi battle, they emerge victorious. They look at Samantha, but she is eating a banana with her throat and isn't impressed with either of them yet.
So they look at each other and they're like “i guess now it's time to fight each other for her love.”
they are both bloody and broken-nosed and batman's cape is all beat up and then professor Punisher shows up and he's like Samantha, you're causing all of this?!”
Samantha says “Mr. Punisher, I really need straight A's if you catch my drift.” (the audience is like “Oh ho-HO! It's an erection thing!)
and the Punisher and Samantha walk away arm in arm and Batman and Joker learn a valuable lesson about women and vow never to fight each other again. But then another hot girl comes into the screen (EVEN HOTTER than Samantha!!!), and she's like “I'm Nadia, the new exchange student from Norway.” Then Batman and the Joker look at each other and make angry eyes and the credits roll as we kick in with ACDC's “Back in Black”.
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
Pornography and You
Copyright the California Education Board circa 1951
We all read the internet. We’ve all seen the advertisements that pop up for sites offering cheap thrills and lipstick-ed girls.
Of course, most of us don’t click on these enticing and saucy banners, but did you know that Pornography is at an all-time high? And not just in Europe!
Yes, even in America, Pornography has become as widespread as polio, back when polio was widespread.
But what’s the harm, you ask?
Perhaps your friends tell you there’s nothing wrong with just looking; we’re all curious, right?
WRONG!!!
Meet Cindy Franklin.
She looks like the kind of girl you’d like to introduce to your mother, doesn’t she?
A good, upstanding, wifely kind of girl. And see here- She’s dressed up for her Saturday date. Very pretty indeed, in a classic kind of way.
Perhaps she’s thinking about her date.
Where will they go together? What will they do?
Surely something fun and wholesome, she thinks. You see, Cindy doesn’t engage in Pornography. Her date however, does.
He shows up late, pants crusted over, with a wild look in his eye. He’s sweaty around the collar and arms. His hair is matted and unkempt. His walk is abnormal, and he has difficulty standing.
You see, his mind has been permanently damaged by Pornography.
Typically, Pornography, also known in jive-talk as “porn”, “eyecandy”, “T&A”, “hardcore”, “Pr0n”, “nudiepics”, and “moonshine” is utilized by simultaneously watching it and engaging in what is known as a “jerky”, “pully”, “wanky”, or “fisty”, the horrific details of which are better left to the imagination.
Needless to say, this deadly combination of mental staring and physical repetition results in permanent brain damage that can never be undone.
Poor Cindy. Poor Cindy’s date.
But surely this only happens to the less-fortunate, and the Europeans?
THINK AGAIN!!!
We recently visited the house of one Michael Anthony Estevez, a recent victim of pornography. We asked the young man to relate his story to us.
Mr. Estevez was hesitant to share at first, but after realizing that his story could help others, he reluctantly agreed to tell his story.
“I was surfing online one day, looking to add a few cards to my baseball collection. I stumbled upon a site that I think most people refer to as a “search engine”, it’s a big site that lets you look up anything in the world. It was great for helping me find my baseball cards! But one link didn’t have baseball cards at all. It was filled with smut, the street name for Pornography. I’d never seen the stuff before, but I couldn’t look away. I was hooked. I realized that if I started looking for it on purpose, I might even find more! This “search engine” fast became my peddler for Pornography.”
So Michael Anthony Estevez began a walk down a dark path. Unbeknownst to his wife, Clarinda Estevez, and their two children, Ricky and John, Michael was falling deeper and deeper into the world of Pornography.
“One day, I needed a fix bad. So bad. I was really highed up from seeing these lingerie catalogues my wife had left all over the house. I quickly gave her some money and sent her out with the kids for ice cream. I logged on and got ready. Just then, my wife and children came back in. She’d forgotten the car keys. They walked in on me while I was using. I tried to close out the browser, but it was too late.”
Surely a fantastic story to be sure, but this was no Spaniard from Europe. This happened in America! It happened right outside your town, and it could happen to you!
Now Michael Anthony Estevez is divorced. His children will grow up in a broken home without a father.
There are no happy endings when you fool with Pornography!
Michael undergoes treatments 5 times a week, and still isn’t able to kick the addiction.
Scientists say that nothing damages the human mind more than a single dose of Pornography.
But how did this happen?
Top theorists speculate that the Reds introduced Pornography into the internet as a way to undermine the United States.
Why not show them that as Americans, we can use the twin fists of Good Sense and Dignity to punch out Pornography forever?
Let’s make tomorrow’s headline read “Americans say ‘NO!’ to Pornography!”
We all read the internet. We’ve all seen the advertisements that pop up for sites offering cheap thrills and lipstick-ed girls.
Of course, most of us don’t click on these enticing and saucy banners, but did you know that Pornography is at an all-time high? And not just in Europe!
Yes, even in America, Pornography has become as widespread as polio, back when polio was widespread.
But what’s the harm, you ask?
Perhaps your friends tell you there’s nothing wrong with just looking; we’re all curious, right?
WRONG!!!
Meet Cindy Franklin.
She looks like the kind of girl you’d like to introduce to your mother, doesn’t she?
A good, upstanding, wifely kind of girl. And see here- She’s dressed up for her Saturday date. Very pretty indeed, in a classic kind of way.
Perhaps she’s thinking about her date.
Where will they go together? What will they do?
Surely something fun and wholesome, she thinks. You see, Cindy doesn’t engage in Pornography. Her date however, does.
He shows up late, pants crusted over, with a wild look in his eye. He’s sweaty around the collar and arms. His hair is matted and unkempt. His walk is abnormal, and he has difficulty standing.
You see, his mind has been permanently damaged by Pornography.
Typically, Pornography, also known in jive-talk as “porn”, “eyecandy”, “T&A”, “hardcore”, “Pr0n”, “nudiepics”, and “moonshine” is utilized by simultaneously watching it and engaging in what is known as a “jerky”, “pully”, “wanky”, or “fisty”, the horrific details of which are better left to the imagination.
Needless to say, this deadly combination of mental staring and physical repetition results in permanent brain damage that can never be undone.
Poor Cindy. Poor Cindy’s date.
But surely this only happens to the less-fortunate, and the Europeans?
THINK AGAIN!!!
We recently visited the house of one Michael Anthony Estevez, a recent victim of pornography. We asked the young man to relate his story to us.
Mr. Estevez was hesitant to share at first, but after realizing that his story could help others, he reluctantly agreed to tell his story.
“I was surfing online one day, looking to add a few cards to my baseball collection. I stumbled upon a site that I think most people refer to as a “search engine”, it’s a big site that lets you look up anything in the world. It was great for helping me find my baseball cards! But one link didn’t have baseball cards at all. It was filled with smut, the street name for Pornography. I’d never seen the stuff before, but I couldn’t look away. I was hooked. I realized that if I started looking for it on purpose, I might even find more! This “search engine” fast became my peddler for Pornography.”
So Michael Anthony Estevez began a walk down a dark path. Unbeknownst to his wife, Clarinda Estevez, and their two children, Ricky and John, Michael was falling deeper and deeper into the world of Pornography.
“One day, I needed a fix bad. So bad. I was really highed up from seeing these lingerie catalogues my wife had left all over the house. I quickly gave her some money and sent her out with the kids for ice cream. I logged on and got ready. Just then, my wife and children came back in. She’d forgotten the car keys. They walked in on me while I was using. I tried to close out the browser, but it was too late.”
Surely a fantastic story to be sure, but this was no Spaniard from Europe. This happened in America! It happened right outside your town, and it could happen to you!
Now Michael Anthony Estevez is divorced. His children will grow up in a broken home without a father.
There are no happy endings when you fool with Pornography!
Michael undergoes treatments 5 times a week, and still isn’t able to kick the addiction.
Scientists say that nothing damages the human mind more than a single dose of Pornography.
But how did this happen?
Top theorists speculate that the Reds introduced Pornography into the internet as a way to undermine the United States.
Why not show them that as Americans, we can use the twin fists of Good Sense and Dignity to punch out Pornography forever?
Let’s make tomorrow’s headline read “Americans say ‘NO!’ to Pornography!”
The Big Book of Jon Clinkenbeard, Chapter 47: Wherein I Become An International Criminal
The very first time I let myself get excited about the trip to London was roughly around hour 6 of my Chicago-to-London flight, when we were flying directly over Ireland.
I couldn't see Ireland through the clouds, but I knew we were flying over it by consulting the huge "this is where our plane is right now" map on the plane's television.
Yes, my plane had a television. A huge big fat-screen television. And then even more televisions than that. Every passenger had their own separate televisions, embedded in the spines of the seats directly in front of us.
Instead of jumping right into media, like I saw most others doing, I talked for about ten minutes to the very nice middle-aged lady next to me. As we finished taking off, she went directly to sleep.
Then I decided to watch The Hangover.
In airplane movies, an interesting thing happens: the movie is interrupted whenever the pilot or copilot makes an announcement, which I noticed for the first time, is quite frequent.
It's not unlike watching a movie with someone who constantly pauses the movie to tell you that the weather outside is nice, or that they're shifting position on the couch, but not to worry.
It would even be fine if they paused the movie correctly.
But they don't; instead, the audio cuts out while the movie is still running for a few seconds, then the movie resumes a minute or so later into the film, and after a few seconds of video, the audio cuts back in.
Basically, you miss tiny chunks every few minutes, and your friend on the couch doesn't give You the option to watch those parts over.
Your options are "do you wanna watch the movie, or not?"
I was still happy to watch the movie to distract myself from feeling nervous.
I'd slept maybe 4 or 5 hours the night before due to last-minute packing and cleaning, but I was too anxious about this new experience to feel tired.
I figured the movie would make me sleepy, and I'd be able to have a good night's sleep directly afterwards.
The movie did make me sleepy, but I hadn't counted on the English gentleman behind me, who talked loudly about recent scientific breakthroughs.
I love science; so of course I hated that he was talking about it. How could I fall asleep if I was fascinated?
I put my Chicago-Subway-Defeating ear buds in, and tried not to lie directly on the side of my head, which pushed the hard plastic uncomfortably into my ears.
The ear buds blocked out the soothing high-pitched white noise of the plane, but I was still able to hear his bass of a voice.
I calculated it all out a few days before the flight: I needed to sleep on the plane.
There wasn't any time to adjust to jet lag; once I landed, I needed to finish settling my finances, buy an unlocked phone, and make sure I wanted to stay in the school dorm.
I wasn't able to fall asleep until he fell quiet about 4 hours or so into the flight.
Then, I almost instantaneously woke up to sunlight and the man talking again.
Yes, the same man.
I looked at my phone.
I'd slept almost two hours, and that was all I was going to get.
Breakfast time!
I blinked a lot to remoisten my contacts.
The flight attendants passed out little customs cards for us to fill out and hand to customs on our way through.
I filled my card out for a stay of eight months.
This was a mistake.
Oblivious to my blunder, I happily ate my American Airlines brand strawberry yogurt as we flew over Ireland.
When we landed, I went to the restroom and noticed a sign: "Our bathrooms are cleaned regularly. We strive to make your bathroom experience at Heathrow airport a pleasant one. Thank you."
Almost the exact same wording as the bathrooms in O'Hare.
As I walked down the gate, there was almost a quarter mile of airport with no one in sight. It was off-putting. I finally found everyone a few right turns away, standing in line to go through UK customs. I asked a half-asleep customs woman which line I should enter; the student line, or the US passport line.
without a word, she motioned to the US passport line, and i happily skipped on over.
This was mistake number 2.
As I made my way through the line, I noticed a large, half-bald man in a blue sweater at one of the elevated customs desks. He was lazily angry at everyone who came through, as if he constantly didn't have time for the people trying to enter the country.
Luckily, I was directed to a seemingly chipper woman in a white shirt. I gave her my passport, and my pre-filled out customs card. She read the info, looked again at everything i'd handed her, and finally looked back at me.
“Where's your visa?”
I hadn't gotten my student visa yet because there was a good chance that I would be able to transfer my job and I would get issued a work visa, either of which was good for letting me stay in the country.
“I don't have it yet. I'm going into my work today to-”
“You don't have it?”
“No, I have to go to my job to-”
“One moment.”
She leaned back in her desk and looked at the surly half-bald blue sweater ogre two desks over to my right. She looked at another blue sweater man three desks to my left. I gathered that the blue sweaters were a higher rank, and thus, were the ones who had to deal with people like me, who didn't have their visas yet and had to talk to someone more official.
Both of the blue sweaters were busy with other people trying to enter the country.
They both finished at roughly the same time. I was quick to point out the open man on my left, who simply had to be happier than the surly troll on my right.
But apparently this white shirt and the troll were friends. She didn't give another glance to the man on my left, no matter how I tried to direct her attention.
She asked me to walk to her friend with her.
“We've got a student without a visa, Roger.”
Roger gave her a look that said, “you just woke me up by punching my face.” He crossed his arms, furrowed his brow and retaliated.
“I'm supposed to take my break now.”
Again, I pointed out that the other blue sweater man was open and that maybe we should just go over there and everyone would be happy. I was completely ignored. They started small talking.
“Having a rough day, eh Roger?”
“The worst. I'm tired of dealing with all of this, you know?”
“Take your break after this last one, eh?”
“Fine (exhale).”
The woman went back to her Andy Kaufman desk and Roger turned to me for the first time, saying nothing; sizing me up. I tried to look happy, optimistic, and non-threatening. He looked down at the handful of documents, then got out an official questionnaire.
“Name?”
“Jonathon Clinkenbeard. (Just like it says on the passport and the customs card you have in your hand that you're reading right now, you jerk.)”
“How long are you planning to stay?”
“8-9 months. For school.”
“Do you have any proof?”
I pulled out my support letter from the school as well as my certificate of housing.
“Where's your visa?”
At this point, a tiny middle eastern woman wandered up next to us, extending her documents.
The blue-sweatered troll became instantly enraged, face twisting into a scowl. For a half second, it looked very much like he was going to spit on her.
“What are you doing?! Stop it! Get away from my desk!!!”
Judging by her happy expression, she clearly didn't understand english.
“Get out of here! Take your papers! Go! NOW!”
It struck me that he was talking to her the same way a person would speak to a rat they were chasing out of their house with a broom. The older woman was gently pulled from behind by a younger version of herself.
“I'm sorry, my mother doesn't speak english.”
“Get her away from my desk! Get back in line and take her with you!”
The woman and her mother returned to the queue. Roger turned back to me, his faced still wrinkled with scowl.
“Why don't you have a visa?”
“I need to go to my work this week to sort it all out. I was told there was a grace period.”
“Not that I'm aware of.”
“The passport agency and my school both said I had six months to sort it out.”
“No. You can visit for up to six months without a visa, but you need one if you're staying longer.”
I paused for a moment.
“So can I change that card to say I'm visiting for 5-6 months while I sort out my visa?”
“No, you've already told me that you're planning to stay longer.”
“But if I'd said that I was just visiting, wouldn't I already be in the country, so I could just sort out my visa this week?”
“Yes, but you didn't say that.”
I paused again.
“Don't you see how that encourages lying?”
“Well you can't lie now. I've got you on file saying you're planning to be in the country for 8 or 9 months.”
I stood there silently trying to think of some way to even more logically explain why I should be allowed into the country, but I couldn't.
“There are people from the University who are picking me up. Can we talk to them to prove that I'm attending?”
“That won't do any good. What company do you work for?”
“Homeaway.com; it's Holiday-Rentals.co.uk over here, but it's the same company.”
It was his turn to be silent a moment. He flipped back through all the papers.
“As it stands, I can't let you into the country. I'll go talk to my supervisor, but you need to have a seat right over there.”
“What happens if I can't come into the country?”
“Just have a seat and I'll be back in a minute.”
I sat down and watched people. They all shared a few sentences with the customs officials, and then were let through. The whole process appeared rather quick. I didn't see anyone else having trouble.
I started thinking about what would happen if I was sent back. But I wanted to stay positive, so instead, I opened my George Saunders book and tried to read it. I reread a page a couple of times, never absorbing it, then gave up and watched people again.
Roger was gone for over thirty minutes. I think he might have taken his break before he went to talk to his boss.
It was about this time I realized I hadn't had but 5 hours of sleep in the last two days.
When he came back, he had about the same face as before.
“It doesn't look good. He's investigating, but it doesn't look good. You need to come with me.”
Roger led me through customs, which felt like things were moving positively, despite his words. Maybe he just had to tell me that things didn't look good, even if they did.
“Do you have any checked bags?”
“Yes, two big green ones.”
The bags surprisingly weren't out yet. I tried to connect with him in some way. Maybe he'd fight for me to enter the country if he liked me as a human being.
“I heard you were having a rough day.”
“Yeah, it's busy.”
“Is it usually better?”
“Not really.”
“What's the hardest part?”
“Well, you can't leave. So people just keep coming and you have to talk to them.”
“Oh yeah, I know what you mean. I worked in a customer service job for a while. The worst part was that when calls came in, I had to take them, no matter how many I'd taken already.”
“Uh-huh. Are those your bags?”
I looked at him to see if he'd heard what I said. We clearly hadn't bonded.
“No, my bags are bigger than that. There's one now.”
I grabbed both of my huge green duffel bags and unsuccessfully tried managing them with my laptop bag and my black carry-on suitcase. Everything was over-stuffed and extra-heavy.
Roger helped me with the lighter of the two green bags, and I followed him up a flight of ramps to the security office. Again, I felt how tired my body was.
We left my bags outside an office and I stupidly asked if they'd be okay just sitting there... clearly in the middle of all the cops in the airport.
He said they'd be fine, and to tell the woman in the office I needed my fingerprints taken.
After my digital fingerprints were finished, Roger came back in and told me to look into the camera jutting out of the wall next to me.
I stared into it as he left the room. He came back in and told me to look directly into it, so I did, again.
I stared into the camera for a long time. I wasn't sure how long, because I didn't look at a clock. Instead, I tried to imagine the lens was a peephole and I might stare into it hard enough to see the people on the other side. I tried to lean back in my chair and rest, while still keeping my eyes fixed on the camera.
Roger came back in and told me to follow him.
“It's not looking good” he said.
We took my bags and went through another security checkpoint.
“Do you have anything in these bags I should know about?”
“I have a folding lock knife in one of them, but nothing other than that.”
“Ok. I'm going to search your bags. Go with that man there.”
Roger gestured to a man watching us a few feet away. A white-shirt. I followed him into a small room, where he put on latex gloves and very politely searched every place one might possibly think to hide something.
We came back out, I re-packed my luggage, and followed Roger back to the security offices from before. We again left my bags, but this time we went into the back and into one of several glass and wood “interview boxes”. Roger sat down.
“Sit down. Don't touch the walls, or an alarm will go off.”
“Thanks for the head's up”
Roger ignored me. I sat down and didn't touch the walls. He pulled out another large clipboard.
“Ok, what we're going to do here is answer some questions. Probably a lot of it is things i've already asked you, but we need to go through them again.”
“Ok.”
“Name?”
“Jonathon Clinkenbeard”
“Why are you coming into the UK?”
“For vacation”
Roger stared at me a moment.
“I'm going to put school, since you already told me that. How long are you staying?”
I tried the only other option I could think of.
“I'm only going one semester. That's three or four months.”
Roger paused.
“I can't change that. I'm putting 8 or 9, since you told me that earlier.”
“No, I'm serious. I'm only going for a semester. I haven't paid for more than a semester, and I've changed my mind about the whole year.”
“I can't change it now.”
I sank inside, out of ideas.
Question 3, are you fit and happy to be interviewed in the normal way we conduct these interviews without a solicitor, friend, or representative present?”
I laughed.
“No. I'm not happy about any of this.”
Roger paused.
“I'm going to go ahead and put 'yes'.”
“Are you bringing anything hazardous into the country?”
“No.”
“Do you belong to any organization that supports terrorism or violence to achieve it's means?”
“No.”
“Have you ever belonged to any organization that supports terrorism or violence to achieve it's means?”
“No.”
“Ok. And last: is there any special emergency or circumstance that you wish us to consider?”
“Yes. I don't have a place to live back home, my home for the next few months is London. I have to start classes this next week, or I'll lose my spot in the University. I'm tired and I just want to go to my new house and get some sleep. I'll do whatever I need to do to and cooperate with the law or the British Government to do everything legally and obtain whatever visa or certification I need to enter the country.”
Roger wrote down every single word. Then he got up and I followed him to a holding cell.
“I'll go take this to my supervisor, but it doesn't look good. You'll most likely be sent back to he United States.”
Then he left, and one of the officers in charge put on latex gloves and searched me again, just in case i'd smuggled anything in since the last time I was searched.
When he was finished, he told me that if I needed anything to just ask him.
I asked him for some water, and he pointed to a big vending machine that dispensed two different brands of plain water, several types of tea, and a few kinds of coffee.
Then he gave me a blanket and a pillow and unlocked the door to the cell.
Inside there were three guys, two who looked miserable, and the third who looked happy.
I went to a couch and set down my pillow. I took off my shoes, grabbed my blanket and tried to ignore the bright fluorescent lights.
The happy guy and the smaller, latino guy started talking back and forth in what sounded to my tired ears like this:
“(some french words) Americano (some spanish words)”
“Si, (more spanish words) Americano (more french words)”
I sat up and looked at them. They were both looking at me. The tall happy guy was wearing a pork pie hat and spoke to me.
“You are American?”
“Yes.”
“We are from Portugal. I have been here one, nine, hours”
He showed me his fingers as numbers.
“You've been here 19 hours?”
“Yes.”
“Jesus.”
“That man, even longer”
He gestured to the black guy across the room, who was now also looking at me.
“I've been here 26 hours.”
“God! Straight?”
“Straight.”
I sat there in silence for a minute, then rolled back over and put my arm on my eyes to block out the light.
Over the next several hours, I didn't sleep much. I thought a lot about Austin, and how much I missed everyone. I thought about how I'd left a well-paying job in the midst of an economic slump. The biggest reason I was going back to school was to focus on writing without worrying about rent or keeping up a day job. But why did I need such a big excuse? Why couldn't I just make the decision to be a professional right now? Why wasn't I taking advantages of the opportunities I had? I was giving myself a big expensive excuse to do something I needed to just do, and why shouldn't I do it where I had a network of people willing to help me achieve my aspirations?
I was eventually taken out of the cell and searched one last time, then I was escorted to my American Airlines flight back to Chicago.
The way things ended up after a few days in Chicago? I'd be able to move back into my apartment, but my job couldn't take me back. They'd outsourced my job in 3 days.
I spent a few days with one of my dearest friends in Chicago, mulling over my choices. In the end, I decided that London would always be there, but now was the time to start pursuing my passions. No excuses and no distractions. Now there was absolutely nothing to keep me from starting my career as a professional writer and actor.
I couldn't see Ireland through the clouds, but I knew we were flying over it by consulting the huge "this is where our plane is right now" map on the plane's television.
Yes, my plane had a television. A huge big fat-screen television. And then even more televisions than that. Every passenger had their own separate televisions, embedded in the spines of the seats directly in front of us.
Instead of jumping right into media, like I saw most others doing, I talked for about ten minutes to the very nice middle-aged lady next to me. As we finished taking off, she went directly to sleep.
Then I decided to watch The Hangover.
In airplane movies, an interesting thing happens: the movie is interrupted whenever the pilot or copilot makes an announcement, which I noticed for the first time, is quite frequent.
It's not unlike watching a movie with someone who constantly pauses the movie to tell you that the weather outside is nice, or that they're shifting position on the couch, but not to worry.
It would even be fine if they paused the movie correctly.
But they don't; instead, the audio cuts out while the movie is still running for a few seconds, then the movie resumes a minute or so later into the film, and after a few seconds of video, the audio cuts back in.
Basically, you miss tiny chunks every few minutes, and your friend on the couch doesn't give You the option to watch those parts over.
Your options are "do you wanna watch the movie, or not?"
I was still happy to watch the movie to distract myself from feeling nervous.
I'd slept maybe 4 or 5 hours the night before due to last-minute packing and cleaning, but I was too anxious about this new experience to feel tired.
I figured the movie would make me sleepy, and I'd be able to have a good night's sleep directly afterwards.
The movie did make me sleepy, but I hadn't counted on the English gentleman behind me, who talked loudly about recent scientific breakthroughs.
I love science; so of course I hated that he was talking about it. How could I fall asleep if I was fascinated?
I put my Chicago-Subway-Defeating ear buds in, and tried not to lie directly on the side of my head, which pushed the hard plastic uncomfortably into my ears.
The ear buds blocked out the soothing high-pitched white noise of the plane, but I was still able to hear his bass of a voice.
I calculated it all out a few days before the flight: I needed to sleep on the plane.
There wasn't any time to adjust to jet lag; once I landed, I needed to finish settling my finances, buy an unlocked phone, and make sure I wanted to stay in the school dorm.
I wasn't able to fall asleep until he fell quiet about 4 hours or so into the flight.
Then, I almost instantaneously woke up to sunlight and the man talking again.
Yes, the same man.
I looked at my phone.
I'd slept almost two hours, and that was all I was going to get.
Breakfast time!
I blinked a lot to remoisten my contacts.
The flight attendants passed out little customs cards for us to fill out and hand to customs on our way through.
I filled my card out for a stay of eight months.
This was a mistake.
Oblivious to my blunder, I happily ate my American Airlines brand strawberry yogurt as we flew over Ireland.
When we landed, I went to the restroom and noticed a sign: "Our bathrooms are cleaned regularly. We strive to make your bathroom experience at Heathrow airport a pleasant one. Thank you."
Almost the exact same wording as the bathrooms in O'Hare.
As I walked down the gate, there was almost a quarter mile of airport with no one in sight. It was off-putting. I finally found everyone a few right turns away, standing in line to go through UK customs. I asked a half-asleep customs woman which line I should enter; the student line, or the US passport line.
without a word, she motioned to the US passport line, and i happily skipped on over.
This was mistake number 2.
As I made my way through the line, I noticed a large, half-bald man in a blue sweater at one of the elevated customs desks. He was lazily angry at everyone who came through, as if he constantly didn't have time for the people trying to enter the country.
Luckily, I was directed to a seemingly chipper woman in a white shirt. I gave her my passport, and my pre-filled out customs card. She read the info, looked again at everything i'd handed her, and finally looked back at me.
“Where's your visa?”
I hadn't gotten my student visa yet because there was a good chance that I would be able to transfer my job and I would get issued a work visa, either of which was good for letting me stay in the country.
“I don't have it yet. I'm going into my work today to-”
“You don't have it?”
“No, I have to go to my job to-”
“One moment.”
She leaned back in her desk and looked at the surly half-bald blue sweater ogre two desks over to my right. She looked at another blue sweater man three desks to my left. I gathered that the blue sweaters were a higher rank, and thus, were the ones who had to deal with people like me, who didn't have their visas yet and had to talk to someone more official.
Both of the blue sweaters were busy with other people trying to enter the country.
They both finished at roughly the same time. I was quick to point out the open man on my left, who simply had to be happier than the surly troll on my right.
But apparently this white shirt and the troll were friends. She didn't give another glance to the man on my left, no matter how I tried to direct her attention.
She asked me to walk to her friend with her.
“We've got a student without a visa, Roger.”
Roger gave her a look that said, “you just woke me up by punching my face.” He crossed his arms, furrowed his brow and retaliated.
“I'm supposed to take my break now.”
Again, I pointed out that the other blue sweater man was open and that maybe we should just go over there and everyone would be happy. I was completely ignored. They started small talking.
“Having a rough day, eh Roger?”
“The worst. I'm tired of dealing with all of this, you know?”
“Take your break after this last one, eh?”
“Fine (exhale).”
The woman went back to her Andy Kaufman desk and Roger turned to me for the first time, saying nothing; sizing me up. I tried to look happy, optimistic, and non-threatening. He looked down at the handful of documents, then got out an official questionnaire.
“Name?”
“Jonathon Clinkenbeard. (Just like it says on the passport and the customs card you have in your hand that you're reading right now, you jerk.)”
“How long are you planning to stay?”
“8-9 months. For school.”
“Do you have any proof?”
I pulled out my support letter from the school as well as my certificate of housing.
“Where's your visa?”
At this point, a tiny middle eastern woman wandered up next to us, extending her documents.
The blue-sweatered troll became instantly enraged, face twisting into a scowl. For a half second, it looked very much like he was going to spit on her.
“What are you doing?! Stop it! Get away from my desk!!!”
Judging by her happy expression, she clearly didn't understand english.
“Get out of here! Take your papers! Go! NOW!”
It struck me that he was talking to her the same way a person would speak to a rat they were chasing out of their house with a broom. The older woman was gently pulled from behind by a younger version of herself.
“I'm sorry, my mother doesn't speak english.”
“Get her away from my desk! Get back in line and take her with you!”
The woman and her mother returned to the queue. Roger turned back to me, his faced still wrinkled with scowl.
“Why don't you have a visa?”
“I need to go to my work this week to sort it all out. I was told there was a grace period.”
“Not that I'm aware of.”
“The passport agency and my school both said I had six months to sort it out.”
“No. You can visit for up to six months without a visa, but you need one if you're staying longer.”
I paused for a moment.
“So can I change that card to say I'm visiting for 5-6 months while I sort out my visa?”
“No, you've already told me that you're planning to stay longer.”
“But if I'd said that I was just visiting, wouldn't I already be in the country, so I could just sort out my visa this week?”
“Yes, but you didn't say that.”
I paused again.
“Don't you see how that encourages lying?”
“Well you can't lie now. I've got you on file saying you're planning to be in the country for 8 or 9 months.”
I stood there silently trying to think of some way to even more logically explain why I should be allowed into the country, but I couldn't.
“There are people from the University who are picking me up. Can we talk to them to prove that I'm attending?”
“That won't do any good. What company do you work for?”
“Homeaway.com; it's Holiday-Rentals.co.uk over here, but it's the same company.”
It was his turn to be silent a moment. He flipped back through all the papers.
“As it stands, I can't let you into the country. I'll go talk to my supervisor, but you need to have a seat right over there.”
“What happens if I can't come into the country?”
“Just have a seat and I'll be back in a minute.”
I sat down and watched people. They all shared a few sentences with the customs officials, and then were let through. The whole process appeared rather quick. I didn't see anyone else having trouble.
I started thinking about what would happen if I was sent back. But I wanted to stay positive, so instead, I opened my George Saunders book and tried to read it. I reread a page a couple of times, never absorbing it, then gave up and watched people again.
Roger was gone for over thirty minutes. I think he might have taken his break before he went to talk to his boss.
It was about this time I realized I hadn't had but 5 hours of sleep in the last two days.
When he came back, he had about the same face as before.
“It doesn't look good. He's investigating, but it doesn't look good. You need to come with me.”
Roger led me through customs, which felt like things were moving positively, despite his words. Maybe he just had to tell me that things didn't look good, even if they did.
“Do you have any checked bags?”
“Yes, two big green ones.”
The bags surprisingly weren't out yet. I tried to connect with him in some way. Maybe he'd fight for me to enter the country if he liked me as a human being.
“I heard you were having a rough day.”
“Yeah, it's busy.”
“Is it usually better?”
“Not really.”
“What's the hardest part?”
“Well, you can't leave. So people just keep coming and you have to talk to them.”
“Oh yeah, I know what you mean. I worked in a customer service job for a while. The worst part was that when calls came in, I had to take them, no matter how many I'd taken already.”
“Uh-huh. Are those your bags?”
I looked at him to see if he'd heard what I said. We clearly hadn't bonded.
“No, my bags are bigger than that. There's one now.”
I grabbed both of my huge green duffel bags and unsuccessfully tried managing them with my laptop bag and my black carry-on suitcase. Everything was over-stuffed and extra-heavy.
Roger helped me with the lighter of the two green bags, and I followed him up a flight of ramps to the security office. Again, I felt how tired my body was.
We left my bags outside an office and I stupidly asked if they'd be okay just sitting there... clearly in the middle of all the cops in the airport.
He said they'd be fine, and to tell the woman in the office I needed my fingerprints taken.
After my digital fingerprints were finished, Roger came back in and told me to look into the camera jutting out of the wall next to me.
I stared into it as he left the room. He came back in and told me to look directly into it, so I did, again.
I stared into the camera for a long time. I wasn't sure how long, because I didn't look at a clock. Instead, I tried to imagine the lens was a peephole and I might stare into it hard enough to see the people on the other side. I tried to lean back in my chair and rest, while still keeping my eyes fixed on the camera.
Roger came back in and told me to follow him.
“It's not looking good” he said.
We took my bags and went through another security checkpoint.
“Do you have anything in these bags I should know about?”
“I have a folding lock knife in one of them, but nothing other than that.”
“Ok. I'm going to search your bags. Go with that man there.”
Roger gestured to a man watching us a few feet away. A white-shirt. I followed him into a small room, where he put on latex gloves and very politely searched every place one might possibly think to hide something.
We came back out, I re-packed my luggage, and followed Roger back to the security offices from before. We again left my bags, but this time we went into the back and into one of several glass and wood “interview boxes”. Roger sat down.
“Sit down. Don't touch the walls, or an alarm will go off.”
“Thanks for the head's up”
Roger ignored me. I sat down and didn't touch the walls. He pulled out another large clipboard.
“Ok, what we're going to do here is answer some questions. Probably a lot of it is things i've already asked you, but we need to go through them again.”
“Ok.”
“Name?”
“Jonathon Clinkenbeard”
“Why are you coming into the UK?”
“For vacation”
Roger stared at me a moment.
“I'm going to put school, since you already told me that. How long are you staying?”
I tried the only other option I could think of.
“I'm only going one semester. That's three or four months.”
Roger paused.
“I can't change that. I'm putting 8 or 9, since you told me that earlier.”
“No, I'm serious. I'm only going for a semester. I haven't paid for more than a semester, and I've changed my mind about the whole year.”
“I can't change it now.”
I sank inside, out of ideas.
Question 3, are you fit and happy to be interviewed in the normal way we conduct these interviews without a solicitor, friend, or representative present?”
I laughed.
“No. I'm not happy about any of this.”
Roger paused.
“I'm going to go ahead and put 'yes'.”
“Are you bringing anything hazardous into the country?”
“No.”
“Do you belong to any organization that supports terrorism or violence to achieve it's means?”
“No.”
“Have you ever belonged to any organization that supports terrorism or violence to achieve it's means?”
“No.”
“Ok. And last: is there any special emergency or circumstance that you wish us to consider?”
“Yes. I don't have a place to live back home, my home for the next few months is London. I have to start classes this next week, or I'll lose my spot in the University. I'm tired and I just want to go to my new house and get some sleep. I'll do whatever I need to do to and cooperate with the law or the British Government to do everything legally and obtain whatever visa or certification I need to enter the country.”
Roger wrote down every single word. Then he got up and I followed him to a holding cell.
“I'll go take this to my supervisor, but it doesn't look good. You'll most likely be sent back to he United States.”
Then he left, and one of the officers in charge put on latex gloves and searched me again, just in case i'd smuggled anything in since the last time I was searched.
When he was finished, he told me that if I needed anything to just ask him.
I asked him for some water, and he pointed to a big vending machine that dispensed two different brands of plain water, several types of tea, and a few kinds of coffee.
Then he gave me a blanket and a pillow and unlocked the door to the cell.
Inside there were three guys, two who looked miserable, and the third who looked happy.
I went to a couch and set down my pillow. I took off my shoes, grabbed my blanket and tried to ignore the bright fluorescent lights.
The happy guy and the smaller, latino guy started talking back and forth in what sounded to my tired ears like this:
“(some french words) Americano (some spanish words)”
“Si, (more spanish words) Americano (more french words)”
I sat up and looked at them. They were both looking at me. The tall happy guy was wearing a pork pie hat and spoke to me.
“You are American?”
“Yes.”
“We are from Portugal. I have been here one, nine, hours”
He showed me his fingers as numbers.
“You've been here 19 hours?”
“Yes.”
“Jesus.”
“That man, even longer”
He gestured to the black guy across the room, who was now also looking at me.
“I've been here 26 hours.”
“God! Straight?”
“Straight.”
I sat there in silence for a minute, then rolled back over and put my arm on my eyes to block out the light.
Over the next several hours, I didn't sleep much. I thought a lot about Austin, and how much I missed everyone. I thought about how I'd left a well-paying job in the midst of an economic slump. The biggest reason I was going back to school was to focus on writing without worrying about rent or keeping up a day job. But why did I need such a big excuse? Why couldn't I just make the decision to be a professional right now? Why wasn't I taking advantages of the opportunities I had? I was giving myself a big expensive excuse to do something I needed to just do, and why shouldn't I do it where I had a network of people willing to help me achieve my aspirations?
I was eventually taken out of the cell and searched one last time, then I was escorted to my American Airlines flight back to Chicago.
The way things ended up after a few days in Chicago? I'd be able to move back into my apartment, but my job couldn't take me back. They'd outsourced my job in 3 days.
I spent a few days with one of my dearest friends in Chicago, mulling over my choices. In the end, I decided that London would always be there, but now was the time to start pursuing my passions. No excuses and no distractions. Now there was absolutely nothing to keep me from starting my career as a professional writer and actor.
Friday, September 11, 2009
Paratrooper Babies, Starring Bruce Willis and Samuel L Jackson
Ok, so in the opening scene, there’s a mom who’s holding the baby. I dunno someone really old and motherly like Sarah Jessica Parker.
We zoom in on the baby.
All of a sudden, holy shit, he injects a tiny syringe into his mom’s shoulder (the audience is like “what the hell? Babies don’t typically do that!”).
The mother says “I’m tired,” and the baby makes this smirk-face, because he injected her with knock-out juice.
She lies on the couch, and as soon as she’s out cold, he gets up and pulls a watch and high-tech goggles out of his diaper (audience is like “whaaaaa?”).
The baby puts the high-tech watch and goggles on (note: babies aren’t good at stuff like this, so we’ll have to CGI the babies, or have an animal trainer teach several baby-clones how to do things on cue or something).
He speaks into the watch, and holy krap, it’s Bruce Willis (the audience is like “this baby must be a badass Die Hard baby”) and he’s like “Squad 8, what’s your status?”
So squad 8 is like “Operation put mommies to sleep is complete.”
And Bruce Willis-baby is like “Then it’s go-time. Move, move, move!”
And there’s all this action as the Bruce-Willis baby CGI-runs (because babies don’t run the way Bruce Willis runs) through the house, and straps on all his high-tech gear (including a jetpack! Audiences LOVE jetpacks).
He heads out the back door, and the neighbour’s CGI dog is all like foam-mouth-city and he’s gonna bite Bruce Willis-baby, but Bruce Willis-baby pulls this HUUUUUGE steak out of his diaper (it was too big to be in there! Hahaha!) and throws it at the CGI dog.
The dog’s all happy (the dog needs to make a good happy smirk-face) and Bruce Willis-baby pulls his flight goggles down over his eyes as we zoom in to see how cool he is. Then BLAMMO-WHAMMO his jetpack blasts off and he’s flying into the sky (we should have a shot where his mouth is getting pulled back because of the wind while he’s flying so fast. People love that).
He flies into this secret satellite and it’s full of babies! (families will love this movie!)
The leader of the babies turns around and is like “it’s about time!” and it’s totally Samuel L Jackson-baby! (note: the faces should look like the actors. We can probably train babies to hold their faces certain ways, or just CGI over them)
And Bruce Willis baby is like “don’t hassle me” or something cool, and Samuel L Jackson-baby is like “enough! It’s time for the mission. The secret mission that we’ve been working on for 50 years” (audiences will be like “those babies can’t be 50 years old, can they? Is this a sci-fi movie? Because it rocks!”).
And so John Cleese-baby pulls up a badass holographic display of earth and the whitehouse and stuff, and he’s like “gentlemen, it’s time to destroy the aliens” (audiences will be like “this it TOTALLY a sci-fi movie! I knew it! AWESOME!!!).
And it turns out that all the adults are actually aliens! And it’s this whole mind-fuck conspiracy scam with aliens trying to take over the government for the past 50 years (note: the babies are still human babies. We don’t really have to explain the whole 50-year-old babies or how they figured this all out or anything).
So then Samuel L Jackson-baby is about to say “Lock and Load,” but Bruce Willis-Baby interrupts him and says “Yippee Ki-yay Paratrooper Babies” (note: this is his famous line from Die Hard, only altered to fit our movie. Audiences LOVE when he says this. Trust me!) and Samuel L Jackson-baby gives him this look like “I’m pissed that you interrupted me, but you’re still awesome for saying your catchphrase and go get ‘em tiger.” (we have to make sure all of this is conveyed in his look. Again, there’s a Russian animal trainer I know who’s really good and can probably train babies to look this way into the camera. You guys should have lunch and work out the details.)
Then all the babies load up into these ejector pods and launch all badass down to the planet.
But the alien-adults knew that they would be doing this, so they’re like “Fire!” and it’s totally an all-out war with the alien-adults and the human-babies with fire and explosions and plasma guns and rockets and lasers and robots and all like pew-pew-pew-Kabooooom!!!!
(this battle should last at least an hour and be really fucking awesome or ELSE!)
Then the battle is over and the smoke is all everywhere like fog and Bruce Willis-baby finds Samuel L Jackson-baby lying on the ground, and he’s wounded (audience is like “that’s even MORE sad because he’s a baby!!! I’m going to cry! I’m crying!”).
So Samuel L Jackson-baby is all like coughing blood everywhere and Bruce Willis-baby is like “I’ll take care of your mother for you” (Tragic Irony!).
So then Bruce Willis-baby turns to the other babies and they’re like “all the aliens are dead” and he gives this rousing speech about how they’ve made sacrifices, but they’ve done a good thing and now they can just go back to being normal babies
Then Bruce Willis-baby goes back home, and the dog who was barking at him from before kneels before him instead (Dogs have a heightened sense, so it would make sense that they know he did a good thing and killed a bunch of aliens).
Then he puts all his equipment up in its secret compartments and when it’s all hidden, he crawls back onto his mom on the couch.
She wakes up and she’s like “oh, I must have dozed off. I hope I didn’t miss anything exciting” and Bruce Willis-baby winks at the camera and we roll the credits on a job well-done!!! (Also, I think we should get a tie-in with Burger King and Mattel to do some promotions and make toys and stuff. Kids LOVE toys. Trust me on this. Especially from movies!!!)
We zoom in on the baby.
All of a sudden, holy shit, he injects a tiny syringe into his mom’s shoulder (the audience is like “what the hell? Babies don’t typically do that!”).
The mother says “I’m tired,” and the baby makes this smirk-face, because he injected her with knock-out juice.
She lies on the couch, and as soon as she’s out cold, he gets up and pulls a watch and high-tech goggles out of his diaper (audience is like “whaaaaa?”).
The baby puts the high-tech watch and goggles on (note: babies aren’t good at stuff like this, so we’ll have to CGI the babies, or have an animal trainer teach several baby-clones how to do things on cue or something).
He speaks into the watch, and holy krap, it’s Bruce Willis (the audience is like “this baby must be a badass Die Hard baby”) and he’s like “Squad 8, what’s your status?”
So squad 8 is like “Operation put mommies to sleep is complete.”
And Bruce Willis-baby is like “Then it’s go-time. Move, move, move!”
And there’s all this action as the Bruce-Willis baby CGI-runs (because babies don’t run the way Bruce Willis runs) through the house, and straps on all his high-tech gear (including a jetpack! Audiences LOVE jetpacks).
He heads out the back door, and the neighbour’s CGI dog is all like foam-mouth-city and he’s gonna bite Bruce Willis-baby, but Bruce Willis-baby pulls this HUUUUUGE steak out of his diaper (it was too big to be in there! Hahaha!) and throws it at the CGI dog.
The dog’s all happy (the dog needs to make a good happy smirk-face) and Bruce Willis-baby pulls his flight goggles down over his eyes as we zoom in to see how cool he is. Then BLAMMO-WHAMMO his jetpack blasts off and he’s flying into the sky (we should have a shot where his mouth is getting pulled back because of the wind while he’s flying so fast. People love that).
He flies into this secret satellite and it’s full of babies! (families will love this movie!)
The leader of the babies turns around and is like “it’s about time!” and it’s totally Samuel L Jackson-baby! (note: the faces should look like the actors. We can probably train babies to hold their faces certain ways, or just CGI over them)
And Bruce Willis baby is like “don’t hassle me” or something cool, and Samuel L Jackson-baby is like “enough! It’s time for the mission. The secret mission that we’ve been working on for 50 years” (audiences will be like “those babies can’t be 50 years old, can they? Is this a sci-fi movie? Because it rocks!”).
And so John Cleese-baby pulls up a badass holographic display of earth and the whitehouse and stuff, and he’s like “gentlemen, it’s time to destroy the aliens” (audiences will be like “this it TOTALLY a sci-fi movie! I knew it! AWESOME!!!).
And it turns out that all the adults are actually aliens! And it’s this whole mind-fuck conspiracy scam with aliens trying to take over the government for the past 50 years (note: the babies are still human babies. We don’t really have to explain the whole 50-year-old babies or how they figured this all out or anything).
So then Samuel L Jackson-baby is about to say “Lock and Load,” but Bruce Willis-Baby interrupts him and says “Yippee Ki-yay Paratrooper Babies” (note: this is his famous line from Die Hard, only altered to fit our movie. Audiences LOVE when he says this. Trust me!) and Samuel L Jackson-baby gives him this look like “I’m pissed that you interrupted me, but you’re still awesome for saying your catchphrase and go get ‘em tiger.” (we have to make sure all of this is conveyed in his look. Again, there’s a Russian animal trainer I know who’s really good and can probably train babies to look this way into the camera. You guys should have lunch and work out the details.)
Then all the babies load up into these ejector pods and launch all badass down to the planet.
But the alien-adults knew that they would be doing this, so they’re like “Fire!” and it’s totally an all-out war with the alien-adults and the human-babies with fire and explosions and plasma guns and rockets and lasers and robots and all like pew-pew-pew-Kabooooom!!!!
(this battle should last at least an hour and be really fucking awesome or ELSE!)
Then the battle is over and the smoke is all everywhere like fog and Bruce Willis-baby finds Samuel L Jackson-baby lying on the ground, and he’s wounded (audience is like “that’s even MORE sad because he’s a baby!!! I’m going to cry! I’m crying!”).
So Samuel L Jackson-baby is all like coughing blood everywhere and Bruce Willis-baby is like “I’ll take care of your mother for you” (Tragic Irony!).
So then Bruce Willis-baby turns to the other babies and they’re like “all the aliens are dead” and he gives this rousing speech about how they’ve made sacrifices, but they’ve done a good thing and now they can just go back to being normal babies
Then Bruce Willis-baby goes back home, and the dog who was barking at him from before kneels before him instead (Dogs have a heightened sense, so it would make sense that they know he did a good thing and killed a bunch of aliens).
Then he puts all his equipment up in its secret compartments and when it’s all hidden, he crawls back onto his mom on the couch.
She wakes up and she’s like “oh, I must have dozed off. I hope I didn’t miss anything exciting” and Bruce Willis-baby winks at the camera and we roll the credits on a job well-done!!! (Also, I think we should get a tie-in with Burger King and Mattel to do some promotions and make toys and stuff. Kids LOVE toys. Trust me on this. Especially from movies!!!)
Thursday, September 3, 2009
Man Still Impersonating Twilight Character
AUSTIN, TX- It's 10:30 PM and Jeremy Beechcomb is leaning on a tree in the slightly wooded area across the street from Austin Public High School. He will very soon shift which leg he’s standing on and continue to make pout-faces for the next four and a half hours. He’s had the same nightly ritual for months now, beginning on November 12th, which he refers to as “The Day After Twilight Released In Theaters.”
“I show up every night because it’s going to happen. I’m going to fall in love with a high school girl who wants to have more dark mystery in her life, and this is the only way for me to do it. It’s like destiny. Like if I’ve already been alive for a hundred years or so and now it’s time to finally settle down, or at least fool around behind one of these trees,” Jeremy states sulkily.
For months now, Mr. Beechcomb, 32, has been showing up to the same general area each night at 9pm and staying until 3am. When asked what he does to pass the time, Mr. Beechcomb replies “Brood and wait. Mostly brood, though.” When pressed for specifics, Mr Beechcomb replies that his brooding is “angst-ridden, but confident.”
He adds: “I have a lot of inner pain, so I can relate to high-schoolers, but I can also help them with their troubles, because I’m older and wiser. Like a vampire. Like Edward, who is a vampire.”
Mr. Beechcomb is referring to one of the main characters in the novel, and subsequent movie “Twilight.” The storyline in the book and movie highlights a romantic relationship between a human female named Isabella or “Bella” and a vampire named Edward, whom Mr. Beechcomb impersonates on a nightly basis.
“I got everything just right. Every article of clothing I’m wearing was stolen from the actual wardrobe by a good friend of mine who was a grip for the movie. It’s 100% authentic,” Mr. Beechcomb states proudly.
In a house a few blocks north we visited the Hastips, among the family, Allison Hastip, who attends Austin Public High School. Upon being asked to “please leave” because “it’s 10:30 at night” by Allison’s mother Susan Hastip; Allison made a shifty eye movement to us, indicating her agreement to meet behind the house in ten minutes.
“Yeah, all the girls at school know about him. Twilight was ok, I guess, but Jeremy’s just some creepy loser who puts shiny stuff on his skin and is like an obsessive stalker or whatever. And twilight came out months ago. It’s absolutely NOT cool now,” Allison reports factually.
When asked about his shimmery skin, Jeremy replies “I put on a special paste that I make myself. It’s a secret combination of eggs, sugar, and glass.”
It’s unclear what will result from Jeremy’s efforts in the following months, but in the extremely short term, he will most likely be picked up the authorities, as it appears that someone has given his name to Allison’s mother, who had this to say to us: “Get out of my backyard and away from my daughter! I’m calling the Police! What’s your name you creep!?”
“I show up every night because it’s going to happen. I’m going to fall in love with a high school girl who wants to have more dark mystery in her life, and this is the only way for me to do it. It’s like destiny. Like if I’ve already been alive for a hundred years or so and now it’s time to finally settle down, or at least fool around behind one of these trees,” Jeremy states sulkily.
For months now, Mr. Beechcomb, 32, has been showing up to the same general area each night at 9pm and staying until 3am. When asked what he does to pass the time, Mr. Beechcomb replies “Brood and wait. Mostly brood, though.” When pressed for specifics, Mr Beechcomb replies that his brooding is “angst-ridden, but confident.”
He adds: “I have a lot of inner pain, so I can relate to high-schoolers, but I can also help them with their troubles, because I’m older and wiser. Like a vampire. Like Edward, who is a vampire.”
Mr. Beechcomb is referring to one of the main characters in the novel, and subsequent movie “Twilight.” The storyline in the book and movie highlights a romantic relationship between a human female named Isabella or “Bella” and a vampire named Edward, whom Mr. Beechcomb impersonates on a nightly basis.
“I got everything just right. Every article of clothing I’m wearing was stolen from the actual wardrobe by a good friend of mine who was a grip for the movie. It’s 100% authentic,” Mr. Beechcomb states proudly.
In a house a few blocks north we visited the Hastips, among the family, Allison Hastip, who attends Austin Public High School. Upon being asked to “please leave” because “it’s 10:30 at night” by Allison’s mother Susan Hastip; Allison made a shifty eye movement to us, indicating her agreement to meet behind the house in ten minutes.
“Yeah, all the girls at school know about him. Twilight was ok, I guess, but Jeremy’s just some creepy loser who puts shiny stuff on his skin and is like an obsessive stalker or whatever. And twilight came out months ago. It’s absolutely NOT cool now,” Allison reports factually.
When asked about his shimmery skin, Jeremy replies “I put on a special paste that I make myself. It’s a secret combination of eggs, sugar, and glass.”
It’s unclear what will result from Jeremy’s efforts in the following months, but in the extremely short term, he will most likely be picked up the authorities, as it appears that someone has given his name to Allison’s mother, who had this to say to us: “Get out of my backyard and away from my daughter! I’m calling the Police! What’s your name you creep!?”
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Jon Clinkenbeard's Politics
I am extremely political. I believe that Americans should get the things that they want.
I support health. All Americans have a right to health. Sometimes people may not be able to afford health. Those people aren’t Americans.
It’s our job as Americans to help them; maybe even give them some of our health.
Doctors are good. Hospitals are good. I think we can all agree that they are important to health. American health. Your health.
What about medicines?
Medicines have a long history of health.
Healths and medicines are like peanut and butter.
I support medicines.
I want Americans to have plenty of healths.
I also believe in other issues that are important.
Immigration.
Immigration is about people.
People who are immigrating, and people who live in the cities the people who are immigrating are immigrating to.
I will say firmly right now that I support people.
People are the key to our economy.
That means our economy is like the lock.
We have to open up our economy and take the goodies inside.
What if the goodies are treasures like diamonds and golds?
Do we want to be stuck without an economy?
I can relate to you, because I know I want an economy.
Like you, I believe the economy is important.
My opponent slings mud in the form of words; mud-words.
Well let me just tell you that he went to college.
People in college do drugs and sleep around.
People in college are irresponsible and drink too much.
Do you really want an alcoholic druggie gigolo in the white house?
I don’t.
My children don’t either.
Children are precious.
Like diamonds.
But children are also soft.
Children are soft diamonds.
Children and future.
Peanut and butter.
We must care for our children. We must teach them that they go with future.
They must grow up.
We must be firm about this.
We cannot let our children not grow up without future.
What kind of world has no children and no future?
Not a world I want to live in.
Not a world for my children.
I am a fan of the tiny people that we call children.
Foreign relations are important.
America doesn’t live in the world alone.
We have to cooperate with foreigns.
The world is large, but getting smaller.
Technology, foreigns, world.
They all must be friends to share peace.
Some foreigns aren’t friends.
They must be dealt with as enemies.
We will use our other friends: technology and world, to form a club where our enemies are not allowed until they become our friends.
Then, and only then, will foreigns, technology, world, and America have friendship.
Friendship is important.
I am pro-friendship.
Oil and drilling.
This issue confused people.
Here’s why: Oil is good. Drilling is bad.
We must drill to have oil.
This is a classic case of doing something bad to get something good.
I love oil.
I use it in my car to make it go.
I go to work every day with the power of oil.
I am an American.
I bet some of you use oil in your cars too.
We’re alike, you and I.
People who hate oil say that we can use green instead.
I say, why not make oil green?
Why throw all the oil away, when it’s still perfectly good?
If we make oil green, everyone will be happy.
I am for making people happy.
I say go green with oil!
People are talking a lot about gay.
They say gay marriage and gay rights.
I hear them.
Other people say straight.
They say straight marriage and straight god.
I listen.
I am a listener who hears both sides when people talk.
I support listening.
It is important to hear when people are talking.
I can promise that I am a listener who truly hears.
So when you go to the voting, remember:
Jon Clinkenbeard supports health and medicines.
Jon Clinkenbeard firmly supports people and friendships.
Jon Clinkenbeard believes the economy is important.
My opponent is an alcoholic drugged-out liar with STDs.
Who do you want to be president of America?
You want Jon Clinkenbeard to be president of America.
I support health. All Americans have a right to health. Sometimes people may not be able to afford health. Those people aren’t Americans.
It’s our job as Americans to help them; maybe even give them some of our health.
Doctors are good. Hospitals are good. I think we can all agree that they are important to health. American health. Your health.
What about medicines?
Medicines have a long history of health.
Healths and medicines are like peanut and butter.
I support medicines.
I want Americans to have plenty of healths.
I also believe in other issues that are important.
Immigration.
Immigration is about people.
People who are immigrating, and people who live in the cities the people who are immigrating are immigrating to.
I will say firmly right now that I support people.
People are the key to our economy.
That means our economy is like the lock.
We have to open up our economy and take the goodies inside.
What if the goodies are treasures like diamonds and golds?
Do we want to be stuck without an economy?
I can relate to you, because I know I want an economy.
Like you, I believe the economy is important.
My opponent slings mud in the form of words; mud-words.
Well let me just tell you that he went to college.
People in college do drugs and sleep around.
People in college are irresponsible and drink too much.
Do you really want an alcoholic druggie gigolo in the white house?
I don’t.
My children don’t either.
Children are precious.
Like diamonds.
But children are also soft.
Children are soft diamonds.
Children and future.
Peanut and butter.
We must care for our children. We must teach them that they go with future.
They must grow up.
We must be firm about this.
We cannot let our children not grow up without future.
What kind of world has no children and no future?
Not a world I want to live in.
Not a world for my children.
I am a fan of the tiny people that we call children.
Foreign relations are important.
America doesn’t live in the world alone.
We have to cooperate with foreigns.
The world is large, but getting smaller.
Technology, foreigns, world.
They all must be friends to share peace.
Some foreigns aren’t friends.
They must be dealt with as enemies.
We will use our other friends: technology and world, to form a club where our enemies are not allowed until they become our friends.
Then, and only then, will foreigns, technology, world, and America have friendship.
Friendship is important.
I am pro-friendship.
Oil and drilling.
This issue confused people.
Here’s why: Oil is good. Drilling is bad.
We must drill to have oil.
This is a classic case of doing something bad to get something good.
I love oil.
I use it in my car to make it go.
I go to work every day with the power of oil.
I am an American.
I bet some of you use oil in your cars too.
We’re alike, you and I.
People who hate oil say that we can use green instead.
I say, why not make oil green?
Why throw all the oil away, when it’s still perfectly good?
If we make oil green, everyone will be happy.
I am for making people happy.
I say go green with oil!
People are talking a lot about gay.
They say gay marriage and gay rights.
I hear them.
Other people say straight.
They say straight marriage and straight god.
I listen.
I am a listener who hears both sides when people talk.
I support listening.
It is important to hear when people are talking.
I can promise that I am a listener who truly hears.
So when you go to the voting, remember:
Jon Clinkenbeard supports health and medicines.
Jon Clinkenbeard firmly supports people and friendships.
Jon Clinkenbeard believes the economy is important.
My opponent is an alcoholic drugged-out liar with STDs.
Who do you want to be president of America?
You want Jon Clinkenbeard to be president of America.
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Teeth and Money
I’ve got plum between my teeth. I always have something between my teeth. That’s the trouble with having large teeth.
One of the troubles anyway; I also have a tendency to bite things.
Like people.
All of my friends know this, because at one time or another, I’ve bitten them. And believe me, they weren’t expecting it. No one’s every retaliated in a mean way, though. And that doesn’t mean I wait until I’m really good friends with them before I bite them.
I just bite whenever I feel like biting.
My friends just don’t retaliate because they’re good people and they know my intentions are pure.
I can’t help it. Well, I can, but I choose not to.
Which leads to me biting total strangers.
I was actually recognized by a girl in a bar a few years ago for biting her and I didn’t even remember doing it.
Not until she explained the whole story, and jogged my memory.
“It was your first day working in the airport, and you bit me, and I didn’t even know you, and that was so weird and hilarious and what are you up to now? (glug, glug, flirty eyes)”
You try biting someone your first day on the job in an international airport and see what happens.
I did, and it was great.
This girl was a bartender, who was very very cute.
I didn’t rationalize it that way though.
Something deep in my mind just knew she wouldn’t mind being bitten, and that urge came a’ knockin’, so I did it.
Yes, I had bitten this woman, who I didn’t know then, and still don’t.
As I said, it had even proved to be a conversation starter a year and a half later, and believe you me, if I hadn’t been dating someone at the time I ran back into her, I would have gotten to know her a lot better.
She would have had a lot more bite marks if you know what I’m saying. I think you do. Yeah, you do.
You might think all this biting makes my mouth a filthy filthy place.
Well it does, and not just biting strangers and friends; I also put money in my mouth. I don’t do it as much as I used to, but for a good while, I did it on a daily basis.
It tastes interesting. Not great, but not bad.
It also freaks people out, which I don’t understand.
Who doesn’t like the taste of metal? Who’s never tried that even once in their life?
Metal is kind of like bubble gum; great to taste and chew around on, but if you swallow a lot of it, it’s going to be really gross and probably horrible for you.
Paper money is great too.
It’s such a combination of flavours: ink, paper, the hands/wallets/pockets of a thousand different people, and whatever they coat it with to make it shiny.
If you think that’s disgusting and you consider money filthy, work in a restaurant for a few months and see if you ever want to eat out again. Germs are EVERYWHERE.
At least coins sit in your car, boiling in the sun.
You think germs thrive and make little germ cities on the surface of a 125-degree copper penny?
That’s like humans deciding the surface of the planet Mercury is good for a weekend beach trip.
They’re more likely to multiply and spread out on the rim of your “brand new” paper coffee cup, as it sits there in its little cupstack in Starbucks, where the temperature and humidity are perfect 24/7.
If you think about this stuff long enough, you’ll want to disinfect everything, which sounds great, unless you know that disinfectants only kill 99.99% of the germs.
Disinfectants only kill the weak germs.
Disinfectants don’t even touch the 0.01% bodybuilder germs; which means the bodybuilder germs are the only germs left.
So they all have germ-sex with each other and make nothing but bodybuilder germ babies. BAM! 50 years later, humans are fucked because germs can all lift 100 times their own weight up over their heads, and all humans can do is spray an ineffective mist at the ULTRAGERMS™ and cower together in their plastic biosuits.
Our best hope for the future might be for you to put money in your mouth on a daily basis and toughen your immune system up like a little organized crime family.
“Welcome to Jon’s Body. Germ and crime free* since 1993.”
Just to reiterate, I don’t put money in my mouth to build my immune system; I do it because I like the taste. The immune-system-building is just a good “not-crazy” reason to put money in your mouth if you want to do it, but also care what other people think.
I think I’ve gotten way off-topic here.
In summary: my big teeth usually cause a lot of trouble for me, but sometimes they lead to pretty girls thinking I’m awesome. And germs are fucking scary, but if you put enough of them in your mouth, your body will build a white blood cell mafia, which will proceed to wipe out the bodybuilder germs for not paying their protection money.
This was a good blog.
One of the troubles anyway; I also have a tendency to bite things.
Like people.
All of my friends know this, because at one time or another, I’ve bitten them. And believe me, they weren’t expecting it. No one’s every retaliated in a mean way, though. And that doesn’t mean I wait until I’m really good friends with them before I bite them.
I just bite whenever I feel like biting.
My friends just don’t retaliate because they’re good people and they know my intentions are pure.
I can’t help it. Well, I can, but I choose not to.
Which leads to me biting total strangers.
I was actually recognized by a girl in a bar a few years ago for biting her and I didn’t even remember doing it.
Not until she explained the whole story, and jogged my memory.
“It was your first day working in the airport, and you bit me, and I didn’t even know you, and that was so weird and hilarious and what are you up to now? (glug, glug, flirty eyes)”
You try biting someone your first day on the job in an international airport and see what happens.
I did, and it was great.
This girl was a bartender, who was very very cute.
I didn’t rationalize it that way though.
Something deep in my mind just knew she wouldn’t mind being bitten, and that urge came a’ knockin’, so I did it.
Yes, I had bitten this woman, who I didn’t know then, and still don’t.
As I said, it had even proved to be a conversation starter a year and a half later, and believe you me, if I hadn’t been dating someone at the time I ran back into her, I would have gotten to know her a lot better.
She would have had a lot more bite marks if you know what I’m saying. I think you do. Yeah, you do.
You might think all this biting makes my mouth a filthy filthy place.
Well it does, and not just biting strangers and friends; I also put money in my mouth. I don’t do it as much as I used to, but for a good while, I did it on a daily basis.
It tastes interesting. Not great, but not bad.
It also freaks people out, which I don’t understand.
Who doesn’t like the taste of metal? Who’s never tried that even once in their life?
Metal is kind of like bubble gum; great to taste and chew around on, but if you swallow a lot of it, it’s going to be really gross and probably horrible for you.
Paper money is great too.
It’s such a combination of flavours: ink, paper, the hands/wallets/pockets of a thousand different people, and whatever they coat it with to make it shiny.
If you think that’s disgusting and you consider money filthy, work in a restaurant for a few months and see if you ever want to eat out again. Germs are EVERYWHERE.
At least coins sit in your car, boiling in the sun.
You think germs thrive and make little germ cities on the surface of a 125-degree copper penny?
That’s like humans deciding the surface of the planet Mercury is good for a weekend beach trip.
They’re more likely to multiply and spread out on the rim of your “brand new” paper coffee cup, as it sits there in its little cupstack in Starbucks, where the temperature and humidity are perfect 24/7.
If you think about this stuff long enough, you’ll want to disinfect everything, which sounds great, unless you know that disinfectants only kill 99.99% of the germs.
Disinfectants only kill the weak germs.
Disinfectants don’t even touch the 0.01% bodybuilder germs; which means the bodybuilder germs are the only germs left.
So they all have germ-sex with each other and make nothing but bodybuilder germ babies. BAM! 50 years later, humans are fucked because germs can all lift 100 times their own weight up over their heads, and all humans can do is spray an ineffective mist at the ULTRAGERMS™ and cower together in their plastic biosuits.
Our best hope for the future might be for you to put money in your mouth on a daily basis and toughen your immune system up like a little organized crime family.
“Welcome to Jon’s Body. Germ and crime free* since 1993.”
Just to reiterate, I don’t put money in my mouth to build my immune system; I do it because I like the taste. The immune-system-building is just a good “not-crazy” reason to put money in your mouth if you want to do it, but also care what other people think.
I think I’ve gotten way off-topic here.
In summary: my big teeth usually cause a lot of trouble for me, but sometimes they lead to pretty girls thinking I’m awesome. And germs are fucking scary, but if you put enough of them in your mouth, your body will build a white blood cell mafia, which will proceed to wipe out the bodybuilder germs for not paying their protection money.
This was a good blog.
Saturday, August 15, 2009
The Worst Fortune Cookie Fortune OF ALL TIME.
I bet you thought that I’d say it right off the bat; the worst fortune cookie fortune of all time.
Well I’m not going to blow it that soon.
There’s no build-up.
I WILL tell you in this blog, so don’t think that I’m trying to trick you. This would be a stupid blog if I titled it ‘The Worst Fortune Cookie Fortune OF ALL TIME!” and didn’t actually tell you what the fortune was, wouldn’t it?
I can’t stand when people do that.
No, I’m definitely going to tell you.
First, a little build-up.
I’ve read fortunes from fortune cookies since I was old enough to read.
Even before that, they were read to me by my mother and father, if I remember correctly, which I don’t, because that was such a long time ago.
A fortune from a fortune cookie is supposed to be mysterious.
It is supposed to be helpful, if ambiguous.
A good fortune cookie, along with serendipitous timing in your life, can make you wonder about the reality of oracles and other people who have visions of the future (ed. gypsies?).
A good fortune from a fortune cookie, in theory, can make you question the very existence of god.
My fortune cookie fortune boldly proclaimed “A crab wonton a day keeps the doctor away.”
Let that sink in.
Re-read it.
I would be upset if it simply stated the adage (AMERICAN adage, mind you) “An apple a day keeps the doctor away.”
I would already be upset if the fortune writer just came across as lazy.
Go ahead and re-read it again, I’ll wait:
“A crab wonton a day keeps the doctor away.”
They’ve twisted a very important message about eating raw fruit daily to help maintain a healthy lifestyle into this… this horrible marketing scam.
Here’s what the writer thought while he was writing it: “I think I’m a clever fortune cookie writer and I’ll probably get a raise.”
Here’s what his boss said to him when he turned it in: “Thomas, you’re our best fortune writer! Not only is this a clever play on a traditional American adage, it will increase the sales of crab wontons in our Asian partnership restaurants, and make us Bookoos of money! You’re promoted mister!!!”
I’m sure the boss slapped him on the ass, they both laughed a hearty laugh, and then they feasted together on their lunch of innocent baby souls.
As fun as that scene sounds, you’re forgetting something: they’re spreading lies.
Go ahead and read it yet again:
“A crab wonton a day keeps the doctor away.”
Have you ever enjoyed a crab wonton?
I love them.
I wish more people would eat them.
But they will NOT keep the doctor away, no matter how badly I wish they would.
They are a tiny pastry stuffed with a copious amount of cream cheese, onions, a bit of garlic or ginger, and finally crab meat, or the horrible-sounding, but cool-spelling “Krab” meat (imitation crab).
Then they are deep fried to a golden greasy brown, and served with one of several sassy sauces that have too much sugar in them.
So we’re to read this fortune and believe that eating a deep-fried cream cheese pastry a day will keep us healthy?
I have a few doctors who would disagree with that.
Children will read this and take it to heart!
Literally; because when children eat enough fried cream cheese puffs, they will surely develop a cardiac condition of some sort.
I dare you- yes, that’s right, it’s ON- I dare you to find a worse fortune cookie than mine.
You won’t be able to.
The nearest I’ve seen, I opened IMMEDIATELY after this one.
It was a bit more watered down, but ultimately still reprehensible.
It said “Reach for your dreams. Start with the spring rolls.”
…I HATE marketing.
Well I’m not going to blow it that soon.
There’s no build-up.
I WILL tell you in this blog, so don’t think that I’m trying to trick you. This would be a stupid blog if I titled it ‘The Worst Fortune Cookie Fortune OF ALL TIME!” and didn’t actually tell you what the fortune was, wouldn’t it?
I can’t stand when people do that.
No, I’m definitely going to tell you.
First, a little build-up.
I’ve read fortunes from fortune cookies since I was old enough to read.
Even before that, they were read to me by my mother and father, if I remember correctly, which I don’t, because that was such a long time ago.
A fortune from a fortune cookie is supposed to be mysterious.
It is supposed to be helpful, if ambiguous.
A good fortune cookie, along with serendipitous timing in your life, can make you wonder about the reality of oracles and other people who have visions of the future (ed. gypsies?).
A good fortune from a fortune cookie, in theory, can make you question the very existence of god.
My fortune cookie fortune boldly proclaimed “A crab wonton a day keeps the doctor away.”
Let that sink in.
Re-read it.
I would be upset if it simply stated the adage (AMERICAN adage, mind you) “An apple a day keeps the doctor away.”
I would already be upset if the fortune writer just came across as lazy.
Go ahead and re-read it again, I’ll wait:
“A crab wonton a day keeps the doctor away.”
They’ve twisted a very important message about eating raw fruit daily to help maintain a healthy lifestyle into this… this horrible marketing scam.
Here’s what the writer thought while he was writing it: “I think I’m a clever fortune cookie writer and I’ll probably get a raise.”
Here’s what his boss said to him when he turned it in: “Thomas, you’re our best fortune writer! Not only is this a clever play on a traditional American adage, it will increase the sales of crab wontons in our Asian partnership restaurants, and make us Bookoos of money! You’re promoted mister!!!”
I’m sure the boss slapped him on the ass, they both laughed a hearty laugh, and then they feasted together on their lunch of innocent baby souls.
As fun as that scene sounds, you’re forgetting something: they’re spreading lies.
Go ahead and read it yet again:
“A crab wonton a day keeps the doctor away.”
Have you ever enjoyed a crab wonton?
I love them.
I wish more people would eat them.
But they will NOT keep the doctor away, no matter how badly I wish they would.
They are a tiny pastry stuffed with a copious amount of cream cheese, onions, a bit of garlic or ginger, and finally crab meat, or the horrible-sounding, but cool-spelling “Krab” meat (imitation crab).
Then they are deep fried to a golden greasy brown, and served with one of several sassy sauces that have too much sugar in them.
So we’re to read this fortune and believe that eating a deep-fried cream cheese pastry a day will keep us healthy?
I have a few doctors who would disagree with that.
Children will read this and take it to heart!
Literally; because when children eat enough fried cream cheese puffs, they will surely develop a cardiac condition of some sort.
I dare you- yes, that’s right, it’s ON- I dare you to find a worse fortune cookie than mine.
You won’t be able to.
The nearest I’ve seen, I opened IMMEDIATELY after this one.
It was a bit more watered down, but ultimately still reprehensible.
It said “Reach for your dreams. Start with the spring rolls.”
…I HATE marketing.
Sunday, August 9, 2009
2 Britni, From Cassi
I <3 U!
Omg! This class is so boring! I hate algabra! Y do we even have 2 know this, right?
Did u see Derek this morning? SO cute!!!!!
I wish I was a Juneyur so I could ask him out.
Do u think he’d date a softmore? Prolly not.
Btw, my boobs r totes getting biggur. I just tried on my favorite sweater, and it totes doesn’t fit!!!!!! Can u believe that? SRSLY!!!!
So we HAVE 2 go find me a new fav sweater so I can b all like “So Derek, will you help me study math or whatever?”
What r u doing this weekend????
Tiffani’s mom is out of town, so she’s throwing a party with all of her skank friends. She asked me and asked me 2 ask u if u wanted 2 cum.
It’s gonna b stupid, but I know Derek will b there, so like I HAVE 2 go.
Which means we HAVE 2 go shopping for sweaters tonite OR ELSE!!!
I forgot my Bioligy homework 2, did u do it? I need 2 copy.
Rite me back!!!!
Luv Cassi XOXOXOX
Omg! This class is so boring! I hate algabra! Y do we even have 2 know this, right?
Did u see Derek this morning? SO cute!!!!!
I wish I was a Juneyur so I could ask him out.
Do u think he’d date a softmore? Prolly not.
Btw, my boobs r totes getting biggur. I just tried on my favorite sweater, and it totes doesn’t fit!!!!!! Can u believe that? SRSLY!!!!
So we HAVE 2 go find me a new fav sweater so I can b all like “So Derek, will you help me study math or whatever?”
What r u doing this weekend????
Tiffani’s mom is out of town, so she’s throwing a party with all of her skank friends. She asked me and asked me 2 ask u if u wanted 2 cum.
It’s gonna b stupid, but I know Derek will b there, so like I HAVE 2 go.
Which means we HAVE 2 go shopping for sweaters tonite OR ELSE!!!
I forgot my Bioligy homework 2, did u do it? I need 2 copy.
Rite me back!!!!
Luv Cassi XOXOXOX
Thursday, August 6, 2009
Brandy's Head
Brandy had a fat head.
Most people didn’t notice right away.
At first, she just looked closer.
All the time.
For no reason.
But everyone figured it out eventually.
She wasn’t closer all the time.
Her head was just fat.
It wasn’t an ugly head by any means.
On the contrary; Brandy was very pretty.
And with so much surface to cover, that just meant she had more pretty than the next girl. If say, someone was very plain-jane and had a fat head, that would be a lot of plain.
And I suppose if someone was ugly and had a fat head, most people would rudely refer to them as “that ugly person with the fat head.”
The fatness of her head didn’t magnify her beauty, but it did magnify her personality.
So I suppose it magnified her inner beauty if you want to get specific about subjective intangibles. If you do, that’s your business and I’m sure you have a good reason.
I honestly don’t know why it matters to you. Brandy’s beauty isn’t the point of the story, or else I would have started with “Brandy was a beautiful girl” and not “Brandy had a fat head.” If you look above, you can clearly see the story started with “Brandy had a fat head.”
Moving on.
Brandy didn’t pay much attention to her big fat head, and neither did most of her friends after a while, but she was noticed.
She was noticed by me in a coffee shop.
I didn’t make friends with her.
I never got to the point where, when I thought the name “Brandy” I thought “generous” or “hippie” or “we made out that one time, but things are still cool.”
I stayed stuck thinking “Brandy” = “fatheaded girl.”
She was pretty.
I think I mentioned that.
It’s my opinion anyway.
You are probably trying to picture how a girl with a fat head could possibly be pretty.
Mostly because I used the word “fat” to describe a part of the body notorious for having very little fat, compared to the gut, or thighs.
That would mean that if she had a fat head, it must be really really gross.
Her head isn’t really that fat, it’s just a bit larger than-who am I kidding? It’s fat. It’s a fat head. It was an accurate way to describe it, and I don’t apologize for your lack of imagination.
It wouldn’t be so very fat-looking if she didn’t also have thick curly hair.
I’ve studied facial/hair relations and I’ve noticed that usually beauty comes from them offsetting each other.
If you have a long narrow face, having your hair bounce out on the sides makes you look infinitely more beautiful than having long straight hair to match your long vampyre face.
So to summarize: Brandy had fat hair on all sides of her fat head.
You might think that such a thick mane with such a large head, must have made her look a bit like a female lion.
Well you’re forgetting that it’s the male lions who wear the dreadlocks.
Brandy was a lesbian.
Well not completely, I mean, she wasn’t committing one way or another, and she was still young enough to experiment, so it didn’t really matter anyway, but she hated Jeremy so much for cheating on her because he’s such a jerk, and all men are jerks, and she should just become a lesbian, right?
As you can probably guess, Brandy had a lot to learn.
And a lot to retain, mind you.
She was already good at that, because of her fat head.
She sat at the coffee shop drinking her Topico water, which is always good if there’s nothing more exciting to drink than bubbly tap water.
She chattered with her friends, probably talking about how dark and mysterious and cool I was, sitting on my laptop in the corner of the room.
I paid her no mind, save the occasional glance to be sure she wasn’t moving closer, which she seemed to be, but never was.
Then, as slowly as a dying relationship, she and her friends walked out of the coffee shop and out of my life.
As she left, I noticed that her ankles were the smallest I’d ever seen…
Most people didn’t notice right away.
At first, she just looked closer.
All the time.
For no reason.
But everyone figured it out eventually.
She wasn’t closer all the time.
Her head was just fat.
It wasn’t an ugly head by any means.
On the contrary; Brandy was very pretty.
And with so much surface to cover, that just meant she had more pretty than the next girl. If say, someone was very plain-jane and had a fat head, that would be a lot of plain.
And I suppose if someone was ugly and had a fat head, most people would rudely refer to them as “that ugly person with the fat head.”
The fatness of her head didn’t magnify her beauty, but it did magnify her personality.
So I suppose it magnified her inner beauty if you want to get specific about subjective intangibles. If you do, that’s your business and I’m sure you have a good reason.
I honestly don’t know why it matters to you. Brandy’s beauty isn’t the point of the story, or else I would have started with “Brandy was a beautiful girl” and not “Brandy had a fat head.” If you look above, you can clearly see the story started with “Brandy had a fat head.”
Moving on.
Brandy didn’t pay much attention to her big fat head, and neither did most of her friends after a while, but she was noticed.
She was noticed by me in a coffee shop.
I didn’t make friends with her.
I never got to the point where, when I thought the name “Brandy” I thought “generous” or “hippie” or “we made out that one time, but things are still cool.”
I stayed stuck thinking “Brandy” = “fatheaded girl.”
She was pretty.
I think I mentioned that.
It’s my opinion anyway.
You are probably trying to picture how a girl with a fat head could possibly be pretty.
Mostly because I used the word “fat” to describe a part of the body notorious for having very little fat, compared to the gut, or thighs.
That would mean that if she had a fat head, it must be really really gross.
Her head isn’t really that fat, it’s just a bit larger than-who am I kidding? It’s fat. It’s a fat head. It was an accurate way to describe it, and I don’t apologize for your lack of imagination.
It wouldn’t be so very fat-looking if she didn’t also have thick curly hair.
I’ve studied facial/hair relations and I’ve noticed that usually beauty comes from them offsetting each other.
If you have a long narrow face, having your hair bounce out on the sides makes you look infinitely more beautiful than having long straight hair to match your long vampyre face.
So to summarize: Brandy had fat hair on all sides of her fat head.
You might think that such a thick mane with such a large head, must have made her look a bit like a female lion.
Well you’re forgetting that it’s the male lions who wear the dreadlocks.
Brandy was a lesbian.
Well not completely, I mean, she wasn’t committing one way or another, and she was still young enough to experiment, so it didn’t really matter anyway, but she hated Jeremy so much for cheating on her because he’s such a jerk, and all men are jerks, and she should just become a lesbian, right?
As you can probably guess, Brandy had a lot to learn.
And a lot to retain, mind you.
She was already good at that, because of her fat head.
She sat at the coffee shop drinking her Topico water, which is always good if there’s nothing more exciting to drink than bubbly tap water.
She chattered with her friends, probably talking about how dark and mysterious and cool I was, sitting on my laptop in the corner of the room.
I paid her no mind, save the occasional glance to be sure she wasn’t moving closer, which she seemed to be, but never was.
Then, as slowly as a dying relationship, she and her friends walked out of the coffee shop and out of my life.
As she left, I noticed that her ankles were the smallest I’d ever seen…
Saturday, August 1, 2009
To My Six-Year-Old Son
How did you get in here?
I thought I locked that door.
No, Daddy does love you; he just needs special video game alone time.
…
So he won’t go crazy.
You can stay in here if you promise to be quiet.
Hey look at me, buddy.
Promise?
…
Do you promise to be quiet?
Ok then.
…
…
…
…
That’s a laser gun. Like in cartoons.
…
…
That man isn’t hurt, he’s an alien. Aliens don’t have feelings.
…
That’s a force-field; Daddy has to blow that up to get into the base.
…
No, they’re all just sleeping.
You promised me you’d be quiet.
…
…
What?
…
Ha-ha! You should ask Mommy that.
…
Because mommies know the answer. Daddies don’t know where babies come from because mommies keep it a secret.
…
Yes, Mommy keeps it a secret.
I think it involves a pterodactyl. You should ask her about that.
…
It’s a dinosaur that flies. I gave you that big book of dinosaurs; don’t you ever look at that?
…
Yes, you came from an egg, like the dinosaurs.
…
No, breakfast eggs are different.
…
No, those are chicken babies.
…
Because people babies don’t get eaten; people babies grow up to ask their daddies all kinds of questions.
…
Like the questions you’re asking me.
…
The ones you’ve been asking me.
…
Like that one, just there.
…
…
Of course I love you.
…
I love you and your mommy equally.
…
I love you too.
Do you love me or mommy more?
…
Really?
…
Why?
…
…
…
…
…
Well then I guess I love mommy more too.
…
Well you made such a convincing case for her; I think I actually do love her a little more than you now.
…
Because mommy and I can always make another baby if you don’t clean your room.
We can even give him your name and all your toys, so no one will know you’re gone.
…
…
Then you’d better be good, so we don’t have to make a better baby to replace you.
That sounds like mommy’s home, why don’t you go ask her about pterodactyls and where babies come from?
…
…
…
…
…
…
Hi honey, how was work-
…
I just told him to ask you-
…
Now look, don’t get upset, I was just kid-
…
He’s fine! Why are you yelling?
…
…
He’s not crying!
…
Well he wasn’t crying a minute ago, he only cries when you’re around!
He knows you’ll give him whatever he wants.
…
No. You’re being manipulated. He doesn’t care about what I said; he just wants you to baby him!
…
Yeah, great, take him out for ice cream to cheer him up; I’m sure B.F. Skinner would have a little something to say about that.
…
Fine then!
…
…
…
…
…
…
…
…
I hope they both drop their stupid ice creams.
Jerks.
…
…
…
I thought I locked that door.
No, Daddy does love you; he just needs special video game alone time.
…
So he won’t go crazy.
You can stay in here if you promise to be quiet.
Hey look at me, buddy.
Promise?
…
Do you promise to be quiet?
Ok then.
…
…
…
…
That’s a laser gun. Like in cartoons.
…
…
That man isn’t hurt, he’s an alien. Aliens don’t have feelings.
…
That’s a force-field; Daddy has to blow that up to get into the base.
…
No, they’re all just sleeping.
You promised me you’d be quiet.
…
…
What?
…
Ha-ha! You should ask Mommy that.
…
Because mommies know the answer. Daddies don’t know where babies come from because mommies keep it a secret.
…
Yes, Mommy keeps it a secret.
I think it involves a pterodactyl. You should ask her about that.
…
It’s a dinosaur that flies. I gave you that big book of dinosaurs; don’t you ever look at that?
…
Yes, you came from an egg, like the dinosaurs.
…
No, breakfast eggs are different.
…
No, those are chicken babies.
…
Because people babies don’t get eaten; people babies grow up to ask their daddies all kinds of questions.
…
Like the questions you’re asking me.
…
The ones you’ve been asking me.
…
Like that one, just there.
…
…
Of course I love you.
…
I love you and your mommy equally.
…
I love you too.
Do you love me or mommy more?
…
Really?
…
Why?
…
…
…
…
…
Well then I guess I love mommy more too.
…
Well you made such a convincing case for her; I think I actually do love her a little more than you now.
…
Because mommy and I can always make another baby if you don’t clean your room.
We can even give him your name and all your toys, so no one will know you’re gone.
…
…
Then you’d better be good, so we don’t have to make a better baby to replace you.
That sounds like mommy’s home, why don’t you go ask her about pterodactyls and where babies come from?
…
…
…
…
…
…
Hi honey, how was work-
…
I just told him to ask you-
…
Now look, don’t get upset, I was just kid-
…
He’s fine! Why are you yelling?
…
…
He’s not crying!
…
Well he wasn’t crying a minute ago, he only cries when you’re around!
He knows you’ll give him whatever he wants.
…
No. You’re being manipulated. He doesn’t care about what I said; he just wants you to baby him!
…
Yeah, great, take him out for ice cream to cheer him up; I’m sure B.F. Skinner would have a little something to say about that.
…
Fine then!
…
…
…
…
…
…
…
…
I hope they both drop their stupid ice creams.
Jerks.
…
…
…
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Writer's Block... I think...
I’m stumped.
I can’t think of a single thing to write. I told my brain that this time was the time to come up with something.
I even scheduled it on my calendar.
Here I am sitting and staring at my computer.
What should I write about?
Today I want to write something funny.
Well how about an infomercial?
No, I’ve done enough of those for a while.
How about a fake letter.
No, I just did that.
How about-
How about you shut up and let me think for a minute! Jesus. You’re always talking and offering suggestions, but you don’t know what I like anymore. You don’t know me.
I’m just trying to help.
Well stop trying to help. Just give me some space to breathe! Jesus, I feel like I’m suffocating with all the ideas you’re trying to force me to do.
I’m sorry.
Well, I’m sorry I yelled at you.
What would you like to write about?
I don’t know! Can’t we talk about something else ever?!
Ok.
Ok then!
…
Shit, I’m sorry.
…
I’m just going through a lot right now, and sitting here trying to write something is putting a lot of pressure on me, you know?
I know.
Well, I don’t mean to snap at you, and I know you’re just trying to help.
…
I’m sorry.
I also apologize. Maybe I should just let you do your own thing for a while. You’re good at coming up with ideas.
No I’m not, YOU are. You’re the part of my brain that comes up with ideas. I’m the part that is impassioned and temperamental and proud of it!
I can do other things too.
…
It’s true. I’m the part that’s abstract and thinks on a higher plane.
Are you condescending to me?
What?! No-
Yes you are. You’re saying you’re better than me because you can think of big stupid things like God and Politics and Ethics and Energy and Soul-krap-stuff!
That doesn’t mean I’m better than you.
You’re damn right it doesn’t! Let me tell you something pal; I’m down to earth. I’m with the people. I’m not all hoity-toity. I’m gritty. I’m mean. I’m like a lone-wolf bounty hunter private investigator renegade, ok? People would KILL to be like me in real life.
I’m sure they would.
Well you just watch your mouth, ‘cuz I’m also a loaded gun.
…It seems like it’s very easy to upset you today.
Yeah, so?
I’m just saying.
So maybe I’m a little uptight today. I can admit that. my job is very stressful. You just come up with the ideas, I’m the one that has to hammer them out with fingers and sweat and tears and blood and stuff.
You bleed and sweat when you type?
No, but. You know, it’s a saying.
I see. Well this seems to have gone rather poorly. Shall we try again soon?
Yeah I guess. I’ll take a break and have an imaginary cigarette and cool off, ok?
Sounds good.
This didn’t turn out very funny.
Not really, no.
Well what if I tell a joke.
I don’t think that will help.
Oh come on!!!
Very well.
So there’s this Jewish nun, right?
Right.
…
…
Get it?
Is that the whole joke?
Well, it’s based on true life, so I think people can relate to it in a real sense.
There’s no punch line.
…
That’s like saying “so there’s the Eiffel tower” and then that’s supposed to be a joke.
…You didn’t like it.
Well… I was expecting a real joke, not something you just made up.
Yeah I know.
Let’s just try again in a bit, ok?
K. Bye.
Goodbye.
I can’t think of a single thing to write. I told my brain that this time was the time to come up with something.
I even scheduled it on my calendar.
Here I am sitting and staring at my computer.
What should I write about?
Today I want to write something funny.
Well how about an infomercial?
No, I’ve done enough of those for a while.
How about a fake letter.
No, I just did that.
How about-
How about you shut up and let me think for a minute! Jesus. You’re always talking and offering suggestions, but you don’t know what I like anymore. You don’t know me.
I’m just trying to help.
Well stop trying to help. Just give me some space to breathe! Jesus, I feel like I’m suffocating with all the ideas you’re trying to force me to do.
I’m sorry.
Well, I’m sorry I yelled at you.
What would you like to write about?
I don’t know! Can’t we talk about something else ever?!
Ok.
Ok then!
…
Shit, I’m sorry.
…
I’m just going through a lot right now, and sitting here trying to write something is putting a lot of pressure on me, you know?
I know.
Well, I don’t mean to snap at you, and I know you’re just trying to help.
…
I’m sorry.
I also apologize. Maybe I should just let you do your own thing for a while. You’re good at coming up with ideas.
No I’m not, YOU are. You’re the part of my brain that comes up with ideas. I’m the part that is impassioned and temperamental and proud of it!
I can do other things too.
…
It’s true. I’m the part that’s abstract and thinks on a higher plane.
Are you condescending to me?
What?! No-
Yes you are. You’re saying you’re better than me because you can think of big stupid things like God and Politics and Ethics and Energy and Soul-krap-stuff!
That doesn’t mean I’m better than you.
You’re damn right it doesn’t! Let me tell you something pal; I’m down to earth. I’m with the people. I’m not all hoity-toity. I’m gritty. I’m mean. I’m like a lone-wolf bounty hunter private investigator renegade, ok? People would KILL to be like me in real life.
I’m sure they would.
Well you just watch your mouth, ‘cuz I’m also a loaded gun.
…It seems like it’s very easy to upset you today.
Yeah, so?
I’m just saying.
So maybe I’m a little uptight today. I can admit that. my job is very stressful. You just come up with the ideas, I’m the one that has to hammer them out with fingers and sweat and tears and blood and stuff.
You bleed and sweat when you type?
No, but. You know, it’s a saying.
I see. Well this seems to have gone rather poorly. Shall we try again soon?
Yeah I guess. I’ll take a break and have an imaginary cigarette and cool off, ok?
Sounds good.
This didn’t turn out very funny.
Not really, no.
Well what if I tell a joke.
I don’t think that will help.
Oh come on!!!
Very well.
So there’s this Jewish nun, right?
Right.
…
…
Get it?
Is that the whole joke?
Well, it’s based on true life, so I think people can relate to it in a real sense.
There’s no punch line.
…
That’s like saying “so there’s the Eiffel tower” and then that’s supposed to be a joke.
…You didn’t like it.
Well… I was expecting a real joke, not something you just made up.
Yeah I know.
Let’s just try again in a bit, ok?
K. Bye.
Goodbye.
Sunday, July 19, 2009
A Letter to the Hunched Pines Retirement Community Administration
To Whom It May Concern,
I have taken about as much as I can stand here. I have tried my hardest to keep the peace and pretend that everything is fine, but let me assure you, everything is NOT fine. I am NOT enjoying my stay at Hunched Pines Retirement Community.
The food is horrible, the televisions are mostly black and white, and the soda machines cost 75 cents!!! Who ever heard of a Coca-Cola that cost 75 cents!? It’s highway robbery!
I’d also like to point attention to nurse Dove. She has been refusing my advances lately. If she’s not interested in me, she should keep her hands to herself, and dress like she has a husband, if indeed she has one, which I do not think that she does. And if she is interested in me, like I think she is, then she needs to stop refusing my caresses and kisses. I think you should address this with her. Or fire her to let her know you’re serious, and then rehire her.
I am tired of hearing people die also. It is not a pleasant sound, let me tell you. Apparently however, your faculty treats the sounds of the elderly passing away like it’s the best Benny Goodman concert they ever did hear.
I think something is strange about that Derek fellow. He always gives people the most horrible smile. Especially he can hear someone in the building who is dying. He looks like a snake. Also, I think he’s after nurse Dove, who has the hots for me, if I’m not mistaken. So I also hate him because of that. Also, he’s a snake.
My most important point is about sex. I know how much you hate hearing your elders talk about sex, but believe me; it’s as natural as a flower that’s nearly withered away. How am I ever going to convince nurse Dove to go steady with me, if we’re always forced to keep our doors open? If we don’t get intimate soon, I’m afraid she might lose interest. I might lose interest too. Well, probably not. She’s lovely and reminds me of my dead wife Helen. I’ve told her this on several occasions before sliding my hand over her bosom or thigh, but usually she slaps it. You need to have a word with her about that.
And another thing, I can’t believe how much a Coca-Cola costs! 75 cents per bottle?? Who ever heard of such a thing?! And also, you need to be SURE to get the Coca-Cola bottles. I think some of those bottles might be cans! You’re probably getting the raw end of the stick from your soda guy. Get that fixed, and also don’t forget to talk to nurse Dove.
-Sincerely,
Elmer Winkle
I have taken about as much as I can stand here. I have tried my hardest to keep the peace and pretend that everything is fine, but let me assure you, everything is NOT fine. I am NOT enjoying my stay at Hunched Pines Retirement Community.
The food is horrible, the televisions are mostly black and white, and the soda machines cost 75 cents!!! Who ever heard of a Coca-Cola that cost 75 cents!? It’s highway robbery!
I’d also like to point attention to nurse Dove. She has been refusing my advances lately. If she’s not interested in me, she should keep her hands to herself, and dress like she has a husband, if indeed she has one, which I do not think that she does. And if she is interested in me, like I think she is, then she needs to stop refusing my caresses and kisses. I think you should address this with her. Or fire her to let her know you’re serious, and then rehire her.
I am tired of hearing people die also. It is not a pleasant sound, let me tell you. Apparently however, your faculty treats the sounds of the elderly passing away like it’s the best Benny Goodman concert they ever did hear.
I think something is strange about that Derek fellow. He always gives people the most horrible smile. Especially he can hear someone in the building who is dying. He looks like a snake. Also, I think he’s after nurse Dove, who has the hots for me, if I’m not mistaken. So I also hate him because of that. Also, he’s a snake.
My most important point is about sex. I know how much you hate hearing your elders talk about sex, but believe me; it’s as natural as a flower that’s nearly withered away. How am I ever going to convince nurse Dove to go steady with me, if we’re always forced to keep our doors open? If we don’t get intimate soon, I’m afraid she might lose interest. I might lose interest too. Well, probably not. She’s lovely and reminds me of my dead wife Helen. I’ve told her this on several occasions before sliding my hand over her bosom or thigh, but usually she slaps it. You need to have a word with her about that.
And another thing, I can’t believe how much a Coca-Cola costs! 75 cents per bottle?? Who ever heard of such a thing?! And also, you need to be SURE to get the Coca-Cola bottles. I think some of those bottles might be cans! You’re probably getting the raw end of the stick from your soda guy. Get that fixed, and also don’t forget to talk to nurse Dove.
-Sincerely,
Elmer Winkle
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Change Your Life NOW! with Larray Fawlbs
Everyone thinks dogs are smart.
Most people are stupid.
Coincidence?
Hi, I’m Larray Fawlbs, and I’m an expert.
You know, people come to me with their problems and I tell them to forget about it.
Life’s too short!
Did you know that?
Well, you’d better.
Or else.
No, I’m not threatening you, I’m trying to scare you into a better you!
Join me at my intensive, life-changing, 4 hour seminar this weekend.
It will change your life.
I should know! I took it!
In just 4 hours I empowered myself with the tools I needed to make BIG life changes and have everything in my wildest dreams!
I achieved the IMPOSSIBLE!
I’m a millionaire, an internationally recognized seminar instructor, and a world-class chef!
I can cook up a big batch of self-discovery for you and anyone you bring; $20 off admission for each referral!
But how do I do it?
Well that’s my secret.
The secret I’m willing to share with you this weekend at my celestial, earth-shattering, mind-blowing professional seminar for adults and adult-like youths.
So come on down y’all!
Most people are stupid.
Coincidence?
Hi, I’m Larray Fawlbs, and I’m an expert.
You know, people come to me with their problems and I tell them to forget about it.
Life’s too short!
Did you know that?
Well, you’d better.
Or else.
No, I’m not threatening you, I’m trying to scare you into a better you!
Join me at my intensive, life-changing, 4 hour seminar this weekend.
It will change your life.
I should know! I took it!
In just 4 hours I empowered myself with the tools I needed to make BIG life changes and have everything in my wildest dreams!
I achieved the IMPOSSIBLE!
I’m a millionaire, an internationally recognized seminar instructor, and a world-class chef!
I can cook up a big batch of self-discovery for you and anyone you bring; $20 off admission for each referral!
But how do I do it?
Well that’s my secret.
The secret I’m willing to share with you this weekend at my celestial, earth-shattering, mind-blowing professional seminar for adults and adult-like youths.
So come on down y’all!
Monday, July 13, 2009
Evolution And The Worm
I recently visited my father’s house.
I was outside talking on the phone and after the conversation, as I was walking back into the house, I saw an earthworm on the sidewalk inching along.
The earthworm looked so neat crawling slowly that I wanted to pick him up and watch him extend this way and that like a snail’s eyestalk. I’m sure some of you know what I’m talking about.
Before I type what happened next I’d just like to say that I love fishing, I play with bugs, and I am familiar with earthworms at least as much as anyone else who isn’t squeamish about touching and experimenting with slimy things, sharp things, or crawly sticky things.
I went to pick up the earthworm and as my finger barely grazed it, the earthworm started thrashing around violently. I’ve seen earthworms move before. I’ve seen them move after being pierced with a hook for god’s sake. And not when they’re all refrigerated and sluggish, but when they’re freshly caught and put into an empty mason jar for bait.
I’ve never seen an earthworm thrash around the way this one did.
The way it moved was almost alien, even ignoring the fact that earthworms look like they were invented by science fiction writers.
I kept thinking about the worm and how it moved all night.
I thought about all of the times I’ve seen a tiny bug that I’ve never seen before. Maybe one that hovers in midair in a strange fashion, or has brightly coloured markings with a strange pattern I’ve never seen.
I thought about evolution.
I remembered an article I read about how we might be able to fight cancer in the near future by using frog venom. (http://www.adelaide.edu.au/lumen/issues/16381/news16387.html)
If you aren’t interested in reading the article, I’ll basically say that researchers have found the cellular equivalent of James Bond(frog peptide) tricking his way into an enemy spy plane(cancer cell), strapping on a parachute, blowing open the side of the plane, and parachuting to safety as the plane crashes into the mountains.
All of my thinking and theorizing (I think about evolution much more than any normal person should) boils down to this:
Even though we don’t allow ourselves to evolve through natural selection anymore because of technology, it is this very same technology that will save us by allowing us to STEAL EVERY OTHER SPECIES’ DEFENSE MECHANISMS.
So what if a lot of us need corrective lenses of some kind? So what if some of us are born without the use of our limbs? So what if NOT A SINGLE HUMAN BEING can fight a gorilla hand-to-hand and come out on top?!
It ultimately will work out because… we don’t give our technology to other species.
Granted, we do engage in charity work and save other species when they themselves are too apathetic to go extinct (Panda, I’m glaring directly at you), but we don’t give frogs glasses.
We don’t give frogs antibiotics, or iron lungs, or guns to help them even the playing field against their predators (and help against frog intruders breaking and entering their little frog homes).
So let’s say there’s a horrible disease that comes along and wipes out a LOT of the insects in the world, but doesn’t affect anything else.
Then it mutates and affects a LOT of reptiles, amphibians, and platypuses, but still leaves us alone.
By the time it mutates to start killing humans, we’ll have all the research we need on how it works, why it does what it does, and how all the lucky insects, reptiles, and tiny mammals survived.
Oh, it seems the lucky ones had a special enzyme that blah blah blah…
We’ll simply take a shot, or a pill, and BAM! Not an issue for Homo sapiens (at least, not the ones who can afford the shots and pills, anyway).
So why did I bring up the earthworm?
Well it seems to me that there are a lot of archaic ways of thinking still existing in our world (religion, I’m glaring directly at you now).
There seems to be a general consensus that evolution takes FOREVER to happen.
In reality, it’s this simple: you have a toxic factory that kills off almost all the moths in the area. A boy moth and a girl moth aren’t affected. They have a baby. Evolution just happened (did you catch it or did you blink?). By nature of genetics, that moth baby will be fine.
So why, when humans are evolving at an exponential rate (and we are because technology is how we evolve now, did you know that?), why do we not expect the same from nature?
Hell, we’re changing the planet fast enough; although scientists aren’t sure Earth isn’t just changing on its own because planets are unpredictable.
Regardless of THAT jury being out, we are changing the landscape of cities and urban and slightly rural portions of the Earth.
So wouldn’t all the lifeforms in that climate be swept up in the evolution hurricane? Does a squirrel in the middle of campus walk up to you and pester you for food?
Wait, aren’t squirrels as a species afraid of humans?
Isn’t it just conditioning, where student feeding is giving a Pavlovian/Skinner response and training the squirrels?
Well, what’s to say that the squirrels aren’t breeding themselves to be friendlier to humans from birth and thus evolving into a new species of FriendlySquirrel®?
I have no evidence to support any of this one way or another, but it’s something I think about.
And it’s something I hope you’ll begin to think about too.
***Addendum***
check this out: http://io9.com/5315841/unidentified-biological-goo-15-miles-long-creeps-down-alaskan-coast
I was outside talking on the phone and after the conversation, as I was walking back into the house, I saw an earthworm on the sidewalk inching along.
The earthworm looked so neat crawling slowly that I wanted to pick him up and watch him extend this way and that like a snail’s eyestalk. I’m sure some of you know what I’m talking about.
Before I type what happened next I’d just like to say that I love fishing, I play with bugs, and I am familiar with earthworms at least as much as anyone else who isn’t squeamish about touching and experimenting with slimy things, sharp things, or crawly sticky things.
I went to pick up the earthworm and as my finger barely grazed it, the earthworm started thrashing around violently. I’ve seen earthworms move before. I’ve seen them move after being pierced with a hook for god’s sake. And not when they’re all refrigerated and sluggish, but when they’re freshly caught and put into an empty mason jar for bait.
I’ve never seen an earthworm thrash around the way this one did.
The way it moved was almost alien, even ignoring the fact that earthworms look like they were invented by science fiction writers.
I kept thinking about the worm and how it moved all night.
I thought about all of the times I’ve seen a tiny bug that I’ve never seen before. Maybe one that hovers in midair in a strange fashion, or has brightly coloured markings with a strange pattern I’ve never seen.
I thought about evolution.
I remembered an article I read about how we might be able to fight cancer in the near future by using frog venom. (http://www.adelaide.edu.au/lumen/issues/16381/news16387.html)
If you aren’t interested in reading the article, I’ll basically say that researchers have found the cellular equivalent of James Bond(frog peptide) tricking his way into an enemy spy plane(cancer cell), strapping on a parachute, blowing open the side of the plane, and parachuting to safety as the plane crashes into the mountains.
All of my thinking and theorizing (I think about evolution much more than any normal person should) boils down to this:
Even though we don’t allow ourselves to evolve through natural selection anymore because of technology, it is this very same technology that will save us by allowing us to STEAL EVERY OTHER SPECIES’ DEFENSE MECHANISMS.
So what if a lot of us need corrective lenses of some kind? So what if some of us are born without the use of our limbs? So what if NOT A SINGLE HUMAN BEING can fight a gorilla hand-to-hand and come out on top?!
It ultimately will work out because… we don’t give our technology to other species.
Granted, we do engage in charity work and save other species when they themselves are too apathetic to go extinct (Panda, I’m glaring directly at you), but we don’t give frogs glasses.
We don’t give frogs antibiotics, or iron lungs, or guns to help them even the playing field against their predators (and help against frog intruders breaking and entering their little frog homes).
So let’s say there’s a horrible disease that comes along and wipes out a LOT of the insects in the world, but doesn’t affect anything else.
Then it mutates and affects a LOT of reptiles, amphibians, and platypuses, but still leaves us alone.
By the time it mutates to start killing humans, we’ll have all the research we need on how it works, why it does what it does, and how all the lucky insects, reptiles, and tiny mammals survived.
Oh, it seems the lucky ones had a special enzyme that blah blah blah…
We’ll simply take a shot, or a pill, and BAM! Not an issue for Homo sapiens (at least, not the ones who can afford the shots and pills, anyway).
So why did I bring up the earthworm?
Well it seems to me that there are a lot of archaic ways of thinking still existing in our world (religion, I’m glaring directly at you now).
There seems to be a general consensus that evolution takes FOREVER to happen.
In reality, it’s this simple: you have a toxic factory that kills off almost all the moths in the area. A boy moth and a girl moth aren’t affected. They have a baby. Evolution just happened (did you catch it or did you blink?). By nature of genetics, that moth baby will be fine.
So why, when humans are evolving at an exponential rate (and we are because technology is how we evolve now, did you know that?), why do we not expect the same from nature?
Hell, we’re changing the planet fast enough; although scientists aren’t sure Earth isn’t just changing on its own because planets are unpredictable.
Regardless of THAT jury being out, we are changing the landscape of cities and urban and slightly rural portions of the Earth.
So wouldn’t all the lifeforms in that climate be swept up in the evolution hurricane? Does a squirrel in the middle of campus walk up to you and pester you for food?
Wait, aren’t squirrels as a species afraid of humans?
Isn’t it just conditioning, where student feeding is giving a Pavlovian/Skinner response and training the squirrels?
Well, what’s to say that the squirrels aren’t breeding themselves to be friendlier to humans from birth and thus evolving into a new species of FriendlySquirrel®?
I have no evidence to support any of this one way or another, but it’s something I think about.
And it’s something I hope you’ll begin to think about too.
***Addendum***
check this out: http://io9.com/5315841/unidentified-biological-goo-15-miles-long-creeps-down-alaskan-coast
Thursday, July 2, 2009
Remake Buster Keaton's The General, Starring Vince Vaughn
So I was thinking recently about how many silent movies there are.
It seems like the only thing that could make them better would be to go back and add sound!
They go back and colour old black and white movies to make them look cooler, so why haven’t they dubbed over silent movies yet?
I know! It’s CRAZY!!!
I think there must be some kind of technology preventing us from doing that, so I came up with a solution that will do those crusty old movies justice: remake them!!!
I think we should start with Buster Keaton’s The General.
And who better to play Buster Keaton than Vince Vaughn?!
So here’s my badass treatment for:
Buster Keaton’s The General: Sultan’s Shindig
Ok, so Vince Vaughn is Buster Keaton and plays this general. But the Civil War was too long ago, and most people don’t know it happened anymore, so he’s a general in the
So he’s like all depressed and stuff because he was dating this girl in the army, only he has to keep it a secret, because that shit is TOTALLY illegal. He has like hidden pictures of her in his boots that he looks at sometimes, and the audience is like “That’s so sad.”
(chicks dig heart-string movies, so we can show some of this in the trailer and BAM, women will totally flock to this movie like ants on rice!)
So we see that he’s like a drunkard and stuff, and his best friend, who is also a general and also Owen Wilson is like “dude, she’s dead. You gotta get over it.” And Vince Vaughn is like “how?” And then we’re totally going to see how.
Owen Wilson secretly makes plans and takes him on this secret best friend cheer up bachelor party mission into this secret city that’s called the Sultan’s Sin City, and it’s like all talked about in the military base and forbidden to go to and stuff.
Anyway, they get there and you’d better hang onto your pork pie hat buster, because here comes the comedy pie! First, there’s this girl, who’s really pretty, and the best friend, still played by Owen Wilson, convinces the Sultan who owns the bar to make her give Vince Vaughn a lapdance for free. So Owen goes to Vince and he’s like “I’ve got a surprise for you.” And Vince looks at the pretty girl, and she looks back, and then she steps aside, and there’s this huge fat ugly
Then the air raid sirens go off and the army is all like storming the city, and Owen Wilson and all the other guys bail, but Vince Vaughn is stuck under the fat stripper (remember, from earlier?! Hilarious!)
So then the army all comes in, and the stripper has fallen asleep because she’s used up too much energy squirming around, and Vince Vaughn hides under her (Ironic!).
Then the army leaves and he’s like “oh my god, I’m stuck here,” and he wedges himself out from under the fat stripper with the help of A TALKING MONKEY!!! (important note: real monkeys can’t talk, so we’ll have to call in the CGI team or something)
And the monkey takes him all through the city and it’s weird, because this monkey is really smart (Ironic because monkeys AREN’T smart!).
There’s this awesome montage of them getting into all kinds of hilarious buddy pranks like spray painting things and egging
Then Vince Vaughn is like “Bananas McGee (the full name of the monkey) we’re wasting time! I have a job to do for my country.”
And we see a flashback to his girlfriend talking to him about what it means to be an American and stuff (It doesn’t matter what she says, but we should be sure it’s really sad and romantic and stuff so women will be like “I relate to her so much”).
Then Vince Vaughn and the monkey decide to sneak into the Sultan’s palace, but to do so, Vince has to dress up like an
Vince Vaughn has to dance for the Sultan, and the CGI monkey is like totally there dancing too (hilarious!), and the Sultan is enjoying it because he doesn’t know he’s not supposed to! (Americans will be like “Go America!!!” at this point)
Then Vince Vaughn dances his way sexily into the secret control room behind the Sultan’s chair and the Sultan passes out or something and Vince Vaughn is like “Oh my God! There are so many nukes!!!” (The audience will be like “oh no!”)
So Vince Vaughn calls in the army, and they come save the day like a swat team, and then Owen Wilson sees Vince Vaughn in his lady girl dress and he’s like “enjoying yourself?” and Vince talks really fastly about how he wasn’t enjoying himself and it was for America (you know the way Vince Vaughn talks really fast? Like that. That’s why we have to get him for this movie, because of this part!)
Then the monkey gives Owen Wilson a wedgie and the music kicks in, “Who Let the Dogs Out?” as the credits roll.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)