Friday, April 30, 2010

Found in My Spam Folder II

It’s the newest craze sweeping the nation. Jennifer Love Hewitt does it. Allegedly, Susan Sarandon’s been doing it for years. You can see it on Zoe Saldana in her Na’vi form in Avatar. From New York to Hong Kong to Paris, stores can’t keep them on the shelves.

What is this hot new trend for 2010? It’s vajazzle – the exciting way women throughout America are adding a little bling to their vagina. And men are taking notice.

Now men, when you want to be intimate with that special little lady (or big hunky stud), don’t pull out that same old one-eyed trouser snake with all its veins and kinky pubic hair. You too can add some excitement and fashion to your intimate moments with Mosley’s newest product – Dickflair.

Sold exclusively in adult novelty stores, porn theaters, and Walmart, Mosley’s Dickflair is sure to amaze, dazzle, and impress that special someone. Think about how impressed your partner will be when you whip out Mr. Happy adorned with barbed wire, or racing cars, or smiley faces, or create your own saying with the “Olde English” lettering kit (in small, medium, and large fonts). Believe me, when you whip out that pecker with the world “PLAYER” stenciled on it, she won’t ever want to leave your bed!

Best yet, Mosley’s Dickflair won’t come off through vigorous fellatio, vaginal, or anal sex. Keep you Dickflair on as long as you want, or remove it with Mosley’s mild abrasive soap included in the package. (Warning: soap may cause redness and irritation.)

Don’t be intimate using that same old schlong. Get Mosley’s Dickflair today!

Thursday, April 29, 2010

I'll Take My Tea Brown

It’s a great time to be in the Tea Party movement. In less than a year and a half, we went from a few whispers on cable TV news to a full-fledged movement with thousands of people attending our rallies. We’ve become such a force that a politician, Democrat or Republican, can’t go on a TV news program without being asked about us. Heck, even the president mentions us!

When I tell causal acquaintances about my involvement with the Tea Party, I often get asked the question, “What is the Tea Party movement about?” Although some people in the movement have their own ideas about it, the core beliefs of the Tea Party movement are limited government and the supremacy of the free market.

Take the bank bailout. If the banks are unsustainable, they should fail and be replaced with entrepreneurs opening banks that are sustainable. That’s fundamental capitalism right there. Same with the auto industry. If Honda is making better cars than GM, let Japan make cars for us, and we'll continue to make Harleys and Levis for them. Look at the new health care bill and its mandate that everyone have health insurance. What business is it of the government if I have health insurance or not?

Recently, Arizona passed a law requiring cops to have people show proof of citizenship if they suspect them of being an illegal alien. Although I recognize that illegal immigration is a major problem that needs to be addressed, asking people for papers is a huge overreach of the role of government. It’s akin to what they did in Apartheid South Africa or Nazi Germany.

As a movement, the Tea Party needs to protest to repeal this law. Who’s with me? No one? I wonder why?

Wednesday, April 28, 2010

Customer Review - Brunswick Rochester II Pool Table

0 stars out of 5.

Assembly took only one hour. The felt on the table is high quality - dense and nappy. The bumpers give a good true rebound. It had definitely improved my game.

One day I invited my friends over for a “pool” party. It was a great evening. Of course, Allison got drunk that evening as she usually does when everyone gets together. In her stumbling, Allison managed to spill half of a can of Pabst as she often does when drunk, only this time she spilled onto my new pool table! I was furious, obviously. I frantically sopped up the beer from the felt while my other friends looked on mortified. Wouldn’t you know it – after 10 minutes the spill had dried, and the table looked fine. The two people playing were even able to resume their game. I was really happy with the table.

Around 3:00 AM, people left my “pool” party, and Allison did another thing she often does drunk – get busy with me. I clumsily removed my clothes, bent the half-naked Allison over the pool table, put on a jimmy cap, and started going at it. In less than a minute, the two pool table legs on our side of the table buckled. I interrupted coitus to fix it, but there was no way to make the legs right again.

I tried to return the thing, but the guy at the store said standing on the table voids the warranty. I explained that we weren’t standing on it, merely leaning against it and thrusting a little, but the guy didn’t seem to care. Now the table is worthless.

My advice is to buy a better quality table. You know you’re going to want to do more with it than just play pool.

Tuesday, April 27, 2010

Letter to Portland Mayor Sam Adams

Dear Mayor Sam Adams,

Although I know it was contentious, I am happy to see that we are able to re-renovate Portland’s PGE Park. It’s obvious that the $38.5 million renovation that took place in 2001 is now outdated, making this renovation a wise investment. Upgrading from a USL soccer team to a MLS team will literally bring dozens more people to the park, adding hundreds of dollars to local businesses. I hope that when the bars near the park are able to buy a new barstool or two that they would not otherwise be able to afford, they think of you.

It’s with this generous spirit in mind that I come to you with the following investment opportunity for the city. For the past three summers, my friends and I met weekly in Creston City Park to play croquet. Our tournaments usually attract a crowd of at least 10 people. Lately, some of our spectators have complained that the contours of park do not allow for good sightlines to watch the action. The unevenness of the grass has caused balls to not roll true. Late last year, one ball landed in a pile of dog poo, causing a delay in the game and much consternation.

What we seek is a modest, $2 million, 100 seat stadium where we can play a fair game. The cost can be deferred by taxing beer sales, which judging our crowd, won’t take long to recoup. After our games, local bars and pot dealers will grow fat off of the patronage of our fans.

What do you say Mayor Adams? Portland can not have enough sports teams that few people watch.

Your Humble Constituent,

Will Divide

Monday, April 26, 2010

Where You Gonna' Park That?, New Series

There are too many cable TV channels, and not enough ideas. Some producers at Discovery came up with a good idea for a show. Took an attractive British guy, put him in dangerous places like the desert or jungle or tundra, and filmed him trying to survive. Called it “Man vs. Wild.” Then the Science channel puts on a show with a Canadian doing essentially the same thing, calling it “Survivorman.” TLC starts a show where ghost “experts” investigate “haunted” properties looking for paranormal activity. Now there are three shows like that. And for the love of God, can someone tell me the difference between “Cake Boss” and “Ace of Cakes”?

Now the A&E network has a show about people who hoard stuff, called creatively enough “Hoarders” Each episode shows someone that compulsively collects things to the point where the home is uninhabitable. Mental health professionals and cleaning crews help the poor “hoarder” clean up their domicile. It involves a lot of crying, self-disclosure, and that freak element that cable viewers crave.

Last week, the head of TV programming for The Science Channel told me I need to produce a show along the same lines. In that spirit, The Science Channel presents the new series “Where You Gonna’ Park That?” Each episode profiles someone whose garage is in crisis due to clutter. In the first episode, we profile a guy who has not one, but two non-functioning lawn mowers in his garage. He claims he doesn’t know where to dispose of them in an environmentally safe way, but we brought a shrink along just in case.

It’s on Mondays at 8, but if you channel surf during the daytime or weekends, you’ll probably see it then as well. Please watch this show. I need the job.

Sunday, April 25, 2010

"Photosynthesis" by Will Divide, Jr, Age 9

Photosynthesis is the way that plants make food for themselves. Plant’s need photosynthesis, since they lack the thumbs that people use to work microwaves, which is the common way that people make food.

At first I thought based on its root words that “photosynthesis” was how plants make fake pictures, but it would be hard for plants to make pictures without thumbs. It turns out that it means “putting together light” in Greek. Apparently, this is a reference to the light bulb trees of Madagascar.

Plants take light and water, and turn it into green stuff. Even carrots do photosynthesis, although carrots end up making orange-colored green stuff. Although plants make green stuff, they cannot make all green stuff. For example, they cannot make boogers. My mom also likes to point out that money doesn’t grow on trees. I think mom is lying, because money is made of paper, and paper is made from trees.

Some plants don’t need to do photosynthesis because they can eat bugs and small frogs. One of these plants is the Venus flytrap. My mom’s friend Linda has a Venus flytrap. When I was at Linda’s house, I proved that a Venus flytrap cannot eat a Yoda action figure. This got me in trouble. I wonder if Einstein ever got in trouble for testing science stuff out.

In conclusion, photosynthesis is what makes the world green. Without it, the world would be brown, kind of like a Western movie. I don’t like the way Western movies look. I’d prefer the world to be green, like in the Lord of the Rings and Avatar. Of course, none of these movies took place on earth, but they were filmed on earth because they haven’t figured out how to film stuff on other planets yet.

Friday, April 23, 2010

Perverts Abound

Most of our customers in the junk removal business fall into one of two categories – people moving or dead people. The late Mr. Moreland fell into the latter. He apparently died of a heart attack in his mid-fifties and his wife had died a long time ago. His children had already taken away the stuff of value, and it was up to Tim and me to throw the rest of it into the back of the truck for the dump.

As usual, I got to clean out the crawlspace. There were some old cans of house paint and a ridiculously heavy window air conditioner. In a corner I found a box, which I handed to Tim. He opened it and found a bunch of VHS tapes with numbers on them.

At my company, we have an unwritten rule which I loathe – you must check out every mysterious video tape. This rule as caused me to think everyone in the world is a pervert. I’ve seen the most depraved stuff on dead people’s video collections. One day we found a bunch of child pornography in a dead guy’s house. We had to call the police and explain everything which took several unpaid hours to complete. This day I didn’t particularly care what Mr. Moreland’s kink was.

Tim found a little TV/VCR combo that the Moreland kids apparently didn’t want and put tape #9 on. The image of a middle aged man on a chair appeared. He explained that although he was no longer around, he still wanted to read his grandchild a story. He proceeded to read The Velveteen Rabbit, pausing to hold the pictures to the camera.

Tim was disappointed, but I was glad to learn that not everyone is a pervert.

Thursday, April 22, 2010

Help Make Me More Famous

Writing a blog is a great experience. For one thing, all the typing involved in creating the blog has strengthened my fingers, which I’ve really come to appreciate when masturbating. In addition, all of my followers have made me something of a celebrity, which is a sure sign of having achieved the American dream.

Unfortunately, blogging isn’t the same as it was in the last decade. Back then, you could toss off a blog or two a week for a couple of months and then retire to a nice bungalow in Martha’s Vineyard. Things are more competitive today. It’s getting harder to make ends meet from blog money alone. Somehow I need to supplement my income. Luckily in American society, if you’re a celebrity, you can always leverage your celebrity for some cash.

Last week, I had an interview with the producers of The Surreal Life. I explained to them that I have a notorious blog, with readership approaching double digits. My blog is read as far north as Vancouver (Washington) and as far east as Peoria (Arizona). That’s a sizeable swatch of the country hungry for all things Will Divide. Rhea Perlman and Nancy Kerrigan would be in awe of my presence in the Surreal Life house. Despite my obvious overwhelming credentials, the producers remained unconvinced. My pitch for a show where hoochies make fools of themselves in an attempt to date me fell on deaf ears as well.

So I implore you, all eight followers of this blog, to write the producers of The Surreal Life, Tell them that you want Will Divide on TV. After all, I need an in ground swimming pool for my backyard.

Wednesday, April 21, 2010

Letter to Syndicated Sex Advice Columnist Dan Savage II

I am writing you with a situation that I fear may be common for women. It’s also possible that I am overreacting. Since you’re the expert (or at least have your own syndicated sexual advice column), I decided to solicit your opinion.

Boyd and I have been dating for two years. We are both in our late 20s. He is the sweetest guy I know. My apartment is always filled with fresh flowers. Boyd doesn’t mind me having an occasional night out with friends, either male or female. He’s also willing to sit with me while I watch “Glee,” even though I’m sure he’d rather be doing something else.

It’s our sex life that I’m worried about. I consider myself to be GGG (good at the act, giving of myself, and game for whatever he wants). Initially, our sex was rather vanilla, which I could live with. Boyd seemed distant at times, so we talked about what we could do to spice things up a bit. Boyd was reluctant at first, but the recommended I get a strap-on dildo and peg him in the butt. I’ve ever tried that before, but Boyd enjoyed it a lot, so we continued doing it.

These days, other than the occasional kiss, pegging is the only intimacy we have. For my birthday last month, Boyd bought me a strap-on with an 11 inch dildo. Then he had me call out during pegging, “Fuck this big black dick, you silly little twink.”

I’m at my wits end. Is Boyd gay? He swears to me that he’s not, but I recently found his stash of magazines with naked men doing unspeakable things to each other.

Pegged Out


Yes PO, Boyd is gay. Time to move on.

Tuesday, April 20, 2010

The Gay Marriage Debate - Resolved

I get it. In election after election in America, voters have decided that they don’t want gay people to be allowed to legally marry. So let’s give the people what they want – the government should not marry gay people.

Marriage is really a religious institution anyway. The government doesn’t have any role in confirmations, first communions, or God forbid brises (ritualized circumcision), so why should it be involved in marriage? So let’s allow the religious institutions to do their thing and get the government out of the business of performing religious functions like declaring marriage.

Of course, there are a lot of legal benefits that the government gives married people, such as inheritance and power-of-attorney rights. We wouldn’t want to see these rights disappear just because the government has relegated declaring marriage to religion. The government can still give these benefits, just not under the name of “marriage.” Let’s say you’re a guy and you’re going to marry in a Catholic church the woman who’s been your sweetheart for eight years. Get a civil union as well. But there’s no reason to stop at heterosexuals in love. You and your sister are in your 70s, unmarried, and have been living together for 25 years. Get a civil union. You and your gay lover are soul mates. I see a civil union in your future.

By making this change, the government rightfully places the gay marriage debate back to religious institutions where it belongs. If the Baptists don’t want to perform gay marriages, that’s their prerogative. Let’s say that the Unitarians do allow gay marriages. You as an individual don’t have to recognize Unitarian marriages.

Religion has more of a role in people’s lives, and we get rid of discrimination. It’s a win for the right and the left.

Monday, April 19, 2010

How the Dinosaurs Died, TV Special

On Wednesday at 7:00 PM Eastern Time, the Science Channel is pleased to present you the special “How the Dinosaurs Died.” This special will explore the rapid mass extinction of dinosaur species using new scientific evidence that questions existing assumptions.

“Current scientific theory states that either a massive volcanic eruption or an asteroid that thrust fine particulate matter into the upper atmosphere is responsible for dinosaur extinction 65 million years ago,” Dr. Dale White, Pre-historic Biology Professor at Oregon State University explained. “Although researchers have found some fossilized evidence to support both theories, neither can be reasonable proven. I believe that the evidence the researchers at OSU have discovered shows a different path that may prove more satisfactory than the existing theories.”

Professor White’s team discovered that the reticulated elm tree evolved around the same time that the dinosaurs died and propagated rapidly due to its evolutionary advantage of quick growth. These trees produced a sweet fruit that Professor White claims would be popular with herbivorous dinosaurs. “On their own, these fruit are benign,” Professor White explained. “However, when mixed with stomach acid and other common species in the herbivore diet such as dandelion, it produces a potent and concentrated cyanide gas. Once expelled, the gas would kill every breathing species for miles, depending on the size of the dinosaur that digested the fruit.”

In this special, you can: see people give interviews in front of a bookshelf, watch computer simulations of large lizards sniffing the air and then falling over dead, hear ominous synthesizer music, and listen to a narrator with a compelling voice explain things that should be obvious.

Did the dinosaurs die from volcano, asteroid, or noxious fart? Watch the Science Channel Special “How the Dinosaurs Died,” and decide for yourself.

We hope you tune in.

Sunday, April 18, 2010

An Undelivered Letter to Grandma

Dear Grandma Ann,

Thank you very much for sending me a care package. I know that I am the first of your grandkids to attend college, and I am working hard to make you proud.

The 12-pack of Ramen will come in handy when I don’t have enough time to get to the dining hall for lunch. Although I obviously already have pens, the Cross pen set is much nicer than what I am currently using. (My anthropology professor was really impressed!) The cute sophomore that lives upstairs has come down to my dorm room twice for a Mr. Goodbar, so thanks for the bag of Hershey Miniatures.

I also really liked the coffee. It’s better than the Millstone they have at the Safeway, and the money I saved meant that I could afford to buy an eight of the incredible White Widow ganja Andy’s cousin was selling.

Perhaps my favorite thing in the care package was the towels you sent. When we spoke on the phone, I said I needed towels for the shower, but I actually have two of them which are sufficient. The truth is that I have been using the same masturbation towel since I first checked out internet porn in 2005. Although that towel has seen enough DNA to repopulate China, the towel is now nearly threadbare, and it’s beginning to chafe most uncomfortably. Those towels that used to adorn your guest bedroom will come in handy while I watch two big-breasted women alternate having sex with the well-endowed black guy.

Please understand that although I may do a bunch of depraved stuff while in college, rest assured that I am bound and determined to graduate, which is all that really matters.

Your loving grandson,

Eddie

Friday, April 16, 2010

Ape Man Cometh

I’ve been going out with Tammy for a couple of months now, and I think she likes me. She’s spent the night at my apartment several times, and I’ve even met her brother and cousin who live in town.

Before dating Tammy, I was on a long celibacy streak. After my last relationship three years ago, I needed some time to work through some issues. The long streak of celibacy has me worried for our sex life. It’s not as though I’ve forgotten how to have sex; my problem is that I can only last three minutes before I have to come. Despite all the foreplay in the world, three minutes isn’t long enough for Tammy to orgasm. I don’t have the courage to talk to her about it, but I worry that she’ll break up with me, ending an otherwise rewarding relationship.

Last night I came up with a solution. We were having sex with me on top. Although all of the lights were out, there was still enough light from the power strip and monitor indicator so that it wasn’t pitch black. I noticed my reflection on the back wall. It reminded me of watching Bonobo chimps having sex on the Discovery Channel. Chimps seem to have no problems with their sexual performance. That night I decided, under cloak of darkness while sexually aroused, I was no longer three-minute Pete; I became Ape Man, the unstoppable sex machine. We went at it for 45 minutes, with Tammy having orgasm after orgasm. When I left her apartment, Tammy was a heaving lump of heavy breathing and unintelligible moans.

I think Tammy and I will be fine, provided that we only have sex in the dark.

Thursday, April 15, 2010

Steve Miller Is a Liar, and I Can Prove It

Other than my wife Becky, I didn’t know anyone at the dinner party. Becky had become friends with Ann through the Rotary Club and invited Becky for dinner. The dinner party consisted on Ann, her husband Doyle Murphy, their friends John and Dianne Coleman who brought their college-aged son Abe, and Steve and Kim Miller, who were visiting from a small town in Washington.

The party started normally. We dined on brisket and creamed spinach and had chocolate mousse for desert. While drinking coffee and tea, Steve picked up an acoustic guitar. Although I did not recognize the song Steve played, I recognized the voice. Steve Miller was in fact that Steve Miller, of The Steve Miller Band fame.

Ann Miller started egging Steve on. “Play something that everyone knows,” Ann needled while pouring refills of decaf.

“I like to play some of my newer stuff while playing my acoustic,” Steve replied.

“Oh c’mon,” Ann urged. “Just one?”

“Ok,” Steve conceded and started playing his 1973 smash hit, The Joker.

While he was playing, I turned to the Abe and asked, “Want a joint?”

“Are you crazy?” Abe asked. “My parents are here.”

I lit up a joint, took a couple of puffs and passed it to Abe. He rejected it, as did Kim Miller. When I passed it to Steve, he said, “Sorry bud. I can’t do that. The doctor says it messes with my circulation.”

Doyle Miller, who had been quiet most of the evening, curtly asked Becky and me to leave, which was fine, because I was pissed.

Steve Miller is a liar. He’s not a midnight toker. I also don’t think people call him the Space Cowboy, the Gangster of Love, or Maurice. If they do, it’s only because of the song.

Fucking liar.

Wednesday, April 14, 2010

Coffee, No Cream

Every morning before work, I stop by Stumptown Coffee for a latte. Amy usually works the register. Although she’s pretty, it’s not like Amy’s looks will stop traffic. She’s thin and not very curvy, and Amy’s face has nice features but she’ll never be the next model for Maybelline.

Men in line ordering their coffee hit on Amy. It’s amazing. Men will ask her to go to dinner sometime, or go on vacation at the coast, or even go with them to a hotel for the afternoon. Amy always politely declines. Most of the rest of the men act sheepishly towards Amy, as if they were ordering coffee from Megan Fox. It makes me ashamed to be a man.

Last night I did what I usually do before bed – check out internet porn. I went to my favorite tube site to find suitable masturbation material. I stared watching a video of a guy and a skinny girl going at it. Soon two men joined the couple in bed, and all four go at it. Through the flurry of male humping, I could see a familiar face. At first I though she was a porn start that I’d seen before, but then I realized it was Amy from the coffee shop! I did some Google searches for her pornstar name, and found that Amy had done a bunch of depraved porn. Who knew?

This morning, the guy in front of me at the coffee shop offered to take Amy to British Columbia. I felt meek as I ordered my coffee from Amy. She had to ask me to speak up a couple of times. I have become one of those guys.

Tuesday, April 13, 2010

It's Never Like It Is in the Movies

I blame the movie Grosse Pointe Blank. In it, John Cusack returns home for his high school reunion and meets up with Minnie Driver, who he stood up for the prom.

I didn’t stand up Janet; I don’t have the balls to do something like that. Janet was always one of the quiet kids in honors classes. Our last names are very close, so we sat next to each other and have little chats. We also sat next to each other at graduation. When the principal started announcing the names that begin with the letter “W,” Janet disclosed to me that she had a crush on me for a long time. I’m not a suave as John Cusack, so I stared at the floor and mumbled something. Graduation ended, and I never saw Janet again.

After watching Grosse Pointe Blank, I started thinking about Janet. Maybe she’s wondered about me too. Maybe she’s a sophisticated urbanite who lives in Portland as I do and has gone through a bunch of dead-end relationships. Maybe she’s looking to rekindle an old flame to help cure the boredom and loneliness.

Last year, I was excited to find Janet on Facebook. She lives in a Denver suburb not far from our high school. Her pictures show that she’s put on a lot of weight that doesn’t look good on her. Every status update is about her cats, reality TV, or obvious political causes like supporting Haiti.

Perhaps if I hadn’t been so shy, I could have sent Janet down the path of a more interesting existence. Or she could have sucked me into the black hole of Denver suburbs, Amazing Race marathons, and vacuuming cat hair.

My ten-year high school reunion is this year. I think I’ll pass.

Monday, April 12, 2010

Marvy Thompson Live in Kansas City

In a blog entry from last week, I published the obituary of Mavin Thompson, who was recently named worst stand-up comedian according to a list on toptenz.com.

While at a thrift store over the weekend, I found a real goldmine for $.25 – the concert album “Marvy Thompson Live in Kansas City.” Although the album hasn’t been commercially available for over 35 years, it’s not much of a collector’s item.

For you my precious blog readers, I have transcribed some of the album here. Certainly, some of the meaning is lost in transcription, but I think you’ll appreciate Marvy Thompson as much as I do.

Marvy Thompson: I flew in to St. Louis earlier today on Eastern. Have you ever…

Audience: Inaudible shouting and booing

MT: Sorry, Kansas City. Cut me some slack please. I’m just getting started. Sorry. So I flew into Kansas City on Eastern Airlines. And they served me some food. They called it Salisbury steak, but it was just a lumpy, runny, brown mess.

Audience: Increasingly loud chatter

MT: Can you keep it down. I’m getting to the punchline. If I wanted to eat poo on a plate, I could have eaten at home. I’m sure I could have put some peas in there too. Oh wait, did I mention that there were peas in the Salisbury steak? I probably should have. The joke would have been funnier.

Voice in the audience: No, it still isn’t funny.

Another voice in the audience: Why don’t you clear off this table and let a real comedian have the microphone.

MT: Ladies and gentleman, the President of Eastern Airlines is in the audience today. Why don’t you take a bow?

Saturday, April 10, 2010

The Security Guard at Planned Parenthood

Right before they offered me the job, they asked me my opinion on abortion. I am pro choice. If any of those women I knocked up before going to prison ended up having the baby, I’d feel terrible about the life that kid would have, what with a degenerate mother and a father in jail for drug trafficking.

Being a graveyard security guard for the Planned Parenthood on SE 50th is not a great job. Although I’ve now been doing it for three years, the pay is still laughable, and there’s always the threat that some nut will shoot you for all the dead babies. What may be the worst thing about the job is the boredom. Watch the monitors, circle the building, mark off the checklist. Rinse, lather, repeat.

A couple of months ago, some protestors showed up in the morning. They had posters and wanted to be seen by the morning rush-hour traffic. I noted it on the checklist. I wasn’t sure whether to be afraid of them or happy for a little excitement. I told them to stay 50 feet away from the entrance and let them go about their business.

While they were setting up, I struck up a conversation with this guy Bill. Although we come from vastly different backgrounds, Bill and I hit it off right away. He had great comments about the Trailblazers that went far beyond fan-boy bitching, and the advice Bill gave me about my girlfriend was way better than anything Dr. Phil could give. Since that day, Bill and I meet up at the bar or talk on the phone at least twice a week, and we never talk about abortion.

I hope Bill’s group of protestors shows up on Monday; otherwise, it will be a long night.

Friday, April 9, 2010

Marvin Thompson, Infamous Stand-up Commedian, Dead at 68

Marvin Thompson, notorious stand-up comedian and star of a self-produced film, died yesterday in his home in Portland from complications from pneumonia. He was 68.

Thompson, the only child of media mogul Leopold Thompson, and heir to the family fortune, used money and connections to get bookings as a stand-up comedian around North America in the 1970s. He continued to do so, despite being regularly booed and heckled.

“I used to book Marvy regularly at the Laugh Factory in Buffalo,” long-time club owner Andy Richman said. “People used to walk out during his bit, but Marvy had already paid me enough to cover every seat in the house.”

Thompson was famous for his bits about the poor quality of airline food, the difficulty he had opening prescription pill bottles, and the stickiness of movie theater flooring.

In 1976, Thompson performed a USO show for troops stationed in Korea. “The troops never seemed to relate to his humor,” retired Staff Sergeant Gregg Edwards recalled. “After the show, two soldiers committed suicide. Despite Thompson’s generous donation of a new pavilion for the troops, we couldn’t invite him back. He killed more of our boys than the North Koreans did.”

Later in life, Thompson used his fortune to produce a film starring him and written by famous comedians, 1987’s “Airline Food is Terrible.” The films never reached wide distribution. “There were funny bits in the movie, but Marvin couldn’t act, so the movie was horrible,” comedian Steven Wright recalled. “I was able to buy a lot of coke, though, so I remember those times fondly.”

Since Thompson had no heirs, as a final joke Thompson directed that his fortune be given to the Communist Party of America. Although the Communist Party accepted the money, they did not find the joke funny.

Thursday, April 8, 2010

Craigslist Ad - W4M - Looking for a Special Man - 26 - NoPo

Tell me about yourself.

Are you the kind of guy that needs a lot of sympathy when your team loses the big game, but at the same time are emotionally distant when your something big happens to your girlfriend, like a parent dying?

Do you fly into fits of anger when over minor setbacks, such as dinner being a little overcooked?

Are you selfish at sex, always making sure that your needs are met without regard to how the woman is enjoying it?

Do you like to give backhanded compliments, such as, “It’s okay that you no longer fit into those leather pants. I never liked them anyway.”?

Are you able to belittle your girlfriend’s opinions, saying stuff like, “Sufjan Stevens sounds like they castrated Paul Simon, and he’s whiney because he wants his balls back. Let’s put on some Kid Rock instead.”?

Do you make money but make your girlfriend pay for everything?

Have you ever ditched an important event with your girlfriend because you didn’t want to miss a TV show?

Do you like to hit on other women while in the presence of your girlfriend?

Are you drunk or on drugs frequently to the point of needing someone to care for you?

Have I got the woman for you! It’s my ex-girlfriend. She’s beautiful, can hold her own in a conversation, and is pretty good in bed. You won’t be disappointed there.

You may be asking, “Why is this woman’s ex-boyfriend looking for a guy for her?” The way I see it, just because we’ve broken up, doesn’t mean I don’t want her to be happy.

Wednesday, April 7, 2010

Paul Wilson's Biggest Fan

Lots of people are fans of Angelina Jolie and Shia LaBeouf. It’s easy to be fans of someone when you can buy his or her poster at three different shops in the mall. I’ve always been a fan of kitsch, and that’s why I am quite possibly the world’s biggest fan of Paul Wilson.

Do you remember the dude Paul who sat next to Norm and Cliff on Cheers, who in later episodes took on a more prominent role? That’s Paul Wilson. He was also one of the Bobs from Office Space, was featured prominently in Malcolm in the Middle, and is the go-to guy when you need a character in a single episode of a show. Paul’s been on Entourage, Curb Your Enthusiasm, Star Trek Voyager, The X Files, Ally McBeal, and on and on. When you need a short, pudgy, bald guy with a meek voice, Paul’s your man.

In my house, I have the “Paul Room.” In it are his movie posters, screen captures of his TV work, a few stills from Cheers, and several autographed headshots. There’s even a Cheers lunchbox where you can make out his head in the background. I love taking new guests in my house to the Paul Room. Their most common reaction is, “Who is this guy?” and, “Why do you have all of this memorabilia for such a minor actor?” I live for those moments.

Paul Wilson is 64 years old. When he dies, I hope to acquire his heart preserved in a jar. It will look great next to the lock of Paul’s hair that I have, which is special since he’s bald.

If it weren’t for the camp factor of my Paul Wilson memorabilia collection, I fear people might think I’m obsessed.

Tuesday, April 6, 2010

Exerpts from John Walter's Job Application for Front Desk Clerk, Benson Hotel

[Reasons for leaving job in the call center for 1-800-FLOWERS]
I had a coworker that liked to chat near my cubicle, which is a violation of my personal space. I asked her several times to move away, but she always came back into my personal space. Finally, I said something loudly to her. For some reason, my bosses decided to fire me for this.

[Reason for leaving job as a customer service representative at Blockbuster Video]
A customer asked if we had the movie Transformers II on DVD. I explained that it was not available on DVD yet and tried to recommend another movie, as we were instructed to do. The customer said it was stupid to go to the video store and that he would download the movie for free from a torrent site. I called him a ****ing thief and threatened to call the police. Before I got the opportunity to call the cops, my manager fired me.

[Reason for leaving job as mail clerk at the Portland Clinic]
The vending machine had these great peanut butter energy bars, and they were only $.60, but they were usually out. One day I saw this large woman buying all the energy bars. I told her that it was unfair of her to do this and that she was fat enough that she didn’t need them. She said that she was buying them for her young sons, and that they cost three times as much in the store. Before she was able to put in another bill, I pushed her hand away and got one for myself. The head of the mail center let me go later that day.

[Reason for wanting the job]
I am a real people-person and know I would thrive in the hospitality industry.

Monday, April 5, 2010

The Worst Easter Ever

Of all the Easter horror stories, none can top mine. It was 1983, and I was 13 at the time. My Great Uncle Gabe was in town for Easter. Usually Cousin Ann went to Chicago to be with her father for Easter, but this time the old man came to Portland.

Gabe was quite the talker. Before dinner, he told me about his service in the Air Force. I had been watching a lot of old war movies on TV, so I was fascinated by his stories.

After eating eggs, ham, and rosemary potatoes, Gabe and my sister Liz joined me in the living room while the adult women did dishes. While Liz watched TV, Gabe told me a story about Easter when he was a boy in Hungary.

“For Easter, we used to have roasted goat,” Gabe said. “All of my aunts, uncles, and cousins would come to our house. I used to really like looking for Easter eggs. My cousins would stay close to the house, so I always found a bunch by going off toward the trees. One year when I was about 5, I was looking for an egg near a tree, when my uncle Gustav introduced me to a new Easter tradition.”

Gabe’s voice softened as he continued. “Gustav said that penis cleaning is an Easter tradition in our family. He took a couple of rags and vigorously cleaned his and my penis. It was uncomfortable, and I didn’t like it, but Gustav did. We moved to Chicago a couple of years later. I’m glad that’s not a tradition in this country.”

Great Uncle Gabe died in 1989. To this day, I can’t think about Easter without thinking about this poor old man being molested as a boy. Easter is ruined forever for me.

Saturday, April 3, 2010

An Idea for Mythbusters

Dear Producers of Mythbusters,

I am the biggest fan of your show and have seen every episode. You seem to have the ability to find the facts about nearly everything. Last year, I had an MRI to investigate some back problems I was having. I could have been afraid that the procedure would cause my tattoo to explode, but after watching your show I learned that the strong magnets used in an MRI have no affect on tattoo ink.

I know that the internet is filled with all sorts of nonsense, but I came across this image loop (animated gif if we’re getting technical), and I thought you would be able to tell us viewers if it is real or not. You Mythbusters could probably start small scale and see if you can recreate the image on each other. Failing to do that, you can enlist the help of some expert (probably a martial arts expert). If that still doesn’t work, you can build some sort of robot to try to match the image. I’m sure the visuals would make for good TV, and small bits of smashed material would look cool on high-speed camera. If one or more of the cast happens to die in the experiments, then you can hire me to be your newest Mythbuster, and the show won’t miss a beat.

I have included the loop at the bottom of this email.

I look forward to the episode where you explore this myth. Keep up the good work.

Your biggest fan,

Arnold Davies




















Animated Profile Graphics and Comments

Friday, April 2, 2010

Porn Town USA

If you live in Portland, one thing that stands out is the abundance of sex-related businesses in town. Between porn theaters, strip clubs, lingerie modeling, and adult bookstores, you don’t have to travel far to get your needed dosage of smut. I’ve tried them all and love them.

That’s why I was really excited when a new place opened in my neighborhood. The moment I walked in, I could tell this place was different. There were no pictures of fake-titted porn stars adorning the walls. Everything was tasteful and understated. My expectations rose; this must be a high class brothel. The madam, an older woman wearing an open-collard shirt and a skirt, told me to have a seat and that one of their “specialists” would be meeting with me shortly. The anticipation got me hard.

A few moments later, a black woman in her late-thirties escorted me to a back room. Something didn’t seem right. Instead of a room with a bed, we were in a sparse office. “What can I do for you?” the woman asked.

She wasn’t really my type, but I don’t know what the etiquette is in a place like this. Maybe this is the room where we negotiate the terms and she can check my naughty bits for sores and whatnot. “Do you have a menu?” I asked.

“What do you think this is - a restaurant?” the woman responded.

I was embarrassed and didn’t know what to do next. “You’re attractive and all,” I said, “but I was hoping for a bj from someone a little younger.”

“Excuse me?” she retorted incredulously.

“The sign outside says ‘Adult and Teen Services,’” I pointed out.

“This is a counseling office for families in crisis,” she yelled. “Get the hell out.”

Thursday, April 1, 2010

The Bumper Sticker

Conservatives have something to contribute to pluralistic dialogue in our country. We do better as a nation when we’re able to incorporate good ideas into policy no matter where on the spectrum they originate.

Unfortunately, conservatism is dead. What passes for conservatism in America is obstructionism, blind rage, and hypocrisy. You could see this in the health care debate. We had conservative Senators voting against provisions of the bill that they actually endorsed. We saw a conservative former Vice-Presidential candidate get worked up about “death panels” that no elected official of any party would ever support. We even had a conservative former presidential candidate railing against the health care bill which is very similar to the one he passed as a governor.

It’s not just elected officials that demonstrate the death of conservatism. The other day I saw a woman walk out of a car with a bumper sticker that read, “Don’t steal. The government hates competition.”

“Ha ha,” I though, “but kudos for being a conservative in SE Portland.” Then I noticed that the car had one of those premium “save the salmon” license plates. Also on the dash were some Oregon scratch-off lottery tickets. What’s the message here? When the government taxes you, it’s theft, but if they ask you to spend money on stuff you don’t need, spend away!

The car’s owner could have contributed money to a non-governmental pro-salmon charity. She could have also gambled at an Indian casino, where the proprietors have a legitimate claim to government theft. Instead, she decided to voluntarily give money to the same entity that she claims is stealing from her.

That’s the problem with democracy. People with incoherent and idiotic understandings of government can vote, and their votes count the same as mine.