Thursday, October 28, 2010

Pandering for Web Hits

I’m on a constant quest to find more readers. One way that I have found to do this is to use terms that people might Google that would cause this blog to hit. Of course, most people Google and porn. With that in mind, here’s a story.

Dick was no ordinary man. Like George Foreman, Dick’s parents named all of their six male children Dick. Dick was easily the biggest of all the sons, earning him the nickname Big Dick.

Dick loved animals. As a kid, he went to a petting zoo where he was especially fascinated by the donkey. The zoo keeper explained that donkeys have thick skin and usually can’t feel normal pats. So Big Dick slapped that ass, repeatedly, grunting and moaning with excitement each time he did it.

When Dick got a little older, his parent bought him his own cat. Dick loved stroking that pussy. One time the cat came home with matted fur, but Dick still cared for it. Even though people laughed at his shaved pussy, Dick still loved it.

As an adult, Dick’s love of animals made it difficult to keep regular work. He’d blow job after job. When Dick had money, he’d enjoy going Greek or going Russian for dinner, but when poor, he’d frequently dine at the Y where he would pay for dinner by working in the kitchen tossing salad.

One night, Dick had a dream that he could come all over the country advocating for animals. The next day, Dick was on a hike in a forest and had a massive heart attack. When he was discovered several days later, Big Dick was stiff and hard with a purple head due to rigor mortis.

Big Dick will be missed.

A Tretise on Driving

There’s a simple rule when it comes to driving – all drivers suck except for me. I’ve tried leading by example, following all traffic laws (except the stupid ones that don’t hurt anyone when violated), and exercising the correct social norms such as letting someone into my lane unless I’m in a big rush. Despite the shining example I’ve set, people continue to drive as though they just left a three-day all-you-can-snort party at Paris Hilton’s condo.

How else can I get people to drive better? I tried putting up a sign in my neighborhood that said “Drive Better for Fuck’s Sake,” but someone took it down. My homemade speed bumps ended up getting crushed under the weight of cars. (Too bad my budget only allowed me to buy cardboard as building materials for the speed bumps.)

Then there’s the least effective method of all, and it’s one I’m ashamed to admit that I used recently. I was at a suburban shopping strip where the “roads” go in odd directions, and often the stop signs are a yellow painted word on the pavement. There was a 4-way stop, and the car to my left stopped a good five feet before the yellow line, so I went through the intersection. As I started to go, the other driver went as well. I let the other driver through while complaining and pointing to the yellow line that she missed. Then I thought, “What is this accomplishing?” It’s not like she can hear me, and if she could, she’d still think she was right.

From now on, I vow not to yell at other drivers. No, fuck that. I’m getting a microphone and external speaker for my car. Other drivers need to know that they suck.

Wednesday, October 27, 2010

Elitism

I have a real problem. I think I’m an elitist. Until recently I didn’t know this was a problem. Sure, I heard pundits call Obama an elitist in 2008 because he ate arugula, but I never felt that applied to me because I didn’t know what arugula was. Today if you watch TV for any length of time, you’ll see political ads claiming that everyone is either an elitist or extremist.

At first I thought I might be an extremist, since I’m against cutting $500 billion from Medicare. (At least I think I am; cutting all that money from Medicare seems like it would harm kindly, wrinkled grandmas.) Then I realized that thinking that gay people are cool means that I can’t be an extremist.

Oh my god, I think gay people are cool! That must make me an elitist. So I started thinking about it in more detail. I’m not a fan of NASCAR, because I think that any activity that requires the same skillset that my mom utilizes when going to the grocery store is a competition but not a sport. I watch Mad Men because it’s smart and entertaining, and I don’t watch CSI because it isn’t smart or entertaining. Sometimes I read books. Hell, I drink lattes. And wine. How more elitist can I be?

Starting today, I’m going to take the steps necessary to not be an elitist. My first steps will be drinking instant coffee and eating white bread and iceberg lettuce. I’m also selling my books to an elitist bookstore to fund my expanded cable subscription. This is just the beginning. I’ve determined that it’s more important to meet a standard strangers have set up for me than to do things I actually enjoy.

Tuesday, October 26, 2010

Found in my Spam Folder X

You have a lot of strong opinions. You’ve thought long and hard about religion, politics, art, and philosophy. You post your well-thought out comments on Facebook, and have succeeded at annoying all of your friends, relatives, and that girl you had a crush on in fourth grade. Even though you care deeply about your opinions, you have no audience for them, and no one to debate with.

That’s where we come in. Timony Industries is proud to announce its new subscription-based email service – “We Argue with You.” No longer will your brilliant opinion fall on deaf ears. Our team of underemployed college educated readers will read your screed, whether coherent or incoherent. You’ll know that we have read your email, because you’ll receive a response saying something like, “You’re right,” or, “Wow. I never thought of it that way,” or, “That point you made about Obama being a secret Muslim born in Kenya really resonates with me.”

Not satisfied with a simple response? Want to have a real discussion? For a larger subscription fee, we will write a response that is sure to ruffle your feathers. Our readers have extensive experience researching all sorts of issues using the latest in Google search technology to come up with reasonable-sounding arguments to counter your opinions. You’ll be angry, but mostly you’ll be engaged.

Not fully satisfied to debate over email? For a platinum-level subscription, you get the additional “Full Satisfaction” service. Someone from Timony Industries will visit your home or a location of your choosing. Our representative will berate your ideas to your face. When you reach the boiling point, you can slap, kick, or otherwise inflict violence on our representative until you feel satisfied that your opinion is superior.

Don’t keep your thoughts to yourself. Try “We Argue with You” today!

Monday, October 25, 2010

Killer App

One of the greatest innovations of new smart phone technology is the “app.” It allows you to customize your phone with on the software that you feel is useful to you. Even better, software developers are coming up with mew apps all of the time, so there’s always potential something new and great your phone can be doing.

About a week ago, I discovered the best app ever. It’s called “Subtexting,” and is used in conjunction with the texting functionality already built into my phone. Here’s an example of how it works, as demonstrated by a text conversation I had with my girlfriend Heather.
Will: Do you want to go out to dinner tonight? I have a taste for Mexican.

Heather: I’m not really hungry right now. I may warm some soup later.
Subtext: I’d like to go out to dinner with you, but only if you pay.

Or here’s another example of “Subtexting” working its genius, shown in a conversation I had with my mom Jane.
Will: Did you get the card I sent you for your birthday?

Jane: Yes Will, it was lovely.
Subtext: It bothers me that my relationship with you has devolved into birthday cards and text messages, but I’m hoping for grandkids someday.

This is a conversation I had with my boss Gary.
Will: I emailed you the 3rd quarter report.

Gary: Thanks Will. I’ll read it when I’m back in the office.
Subtext: I can’t be bothered to read my underling’s drivel, but I’ll take credit for it if my boss likes it.

Here’s one from my pot dealer Chris.
Will: Is now a good time for a visit?

Chris: Still at work. Come over in two hours?
Subtext: I’m almost through with Disc 3 of Season 2 of The Office. You can wait.

Friday, October 22, 2010

The True Story of Maurice Jarre

Editor’s note: The following is the second entry in Fashionable Amish that is factual. Sometimes the truth is more compelling than bullshit I make up. Enjoy.

One of the truest tests of fame is whether people will remember you when you’re dead. Many people have committed acts when living that cause people to remember their names and deeds long after their deaths. Other people achieved a small level of fame (enough to warrant an obituary in several newspapers) but are remembered by few today.

Then there are people remembered mostly for their death, like Lupe Valez. She was a minor actress in the 1930s whose name would be lost to history with all the other minor actresses of the 1930s if only her suicide weren’t so graphic. Today, her death is immortalized forever in an Andy Warhol movie and references in TV shows like Frasier and The Simpsons.

Perhaps more unfortunate is the case of film composer Maurice Jarre who died in 2009. Newspapers around the world published his obituary, and he would have been quickly forgotten, except he was the subject of an experiment in media fallibility by college student Shane Fitzgerald. Fitzgerald made up a quote attributed to the deceased Jarre and posted it on Jarre’s Wikipedia page. The fake quote was included in Jarre’s obituary in newspapers throughout the world. As a result, instead of being famous for his multiple Oscar wins by the handful of people that pay attention to these things, Jarre will be remembered for his death punking the media for using Wikipedia for primary source material.

Editor’s note: I used Wikipedia as source material for this post. I can do this because I am not a journalist. That said my choice of source material may make some of this entry fictional.

Thursday, October 21, 2010

Delaware's Moment in the Spotlight

Several years ago, Sufjan Stevens started an ambitious project where he would produce an album based on each state of the union. His first two albums about Michigan and Illinois received much critical acclaim. Websites conducted surveys to help Stevens pick his next state. Then he dropped the project altogether, which is too bad.

Imagine the album Stevens would have been able to put together about Delaware. Sure, Delaware is the first state of the union, having been the first to ratify the Constitution, but it’s small in both in geographic size and population, dwarfed by larger and more influential states like Pennsylvania, Maryland, and New Jersey.

Then a handful of the small population turns out for the Republican primary and nominates Christine O’Donnell to be the candidate for Senate. Suddenly, the press is fixated on Delaware, despite O’Donnell trailing badly in the polls. (Where’s the national press coverage of the Democratic candidate from Utah? Or the Republican running in Oregon?)

Why is this? It’s because O’Donnell is a train wreck that is fundamentally unprepared to participate in a neighborhood watch group, let alone the US Senate. Most high school civics teachers understand the functioning of government better than she does. There are people in federal prison with fewer skeletons in the closet than O’Donnell.

If the popularity of Jersey Shore has taught us anything, it’s that people like watching train wrecks, which is why I’m hoping that the election isn’t the last we’ve heard from Christine O’Donnell. If an enterprising cable TV producer has any sense, he or she will cast O’Donnell in her own reality series. And the rest of the country can breathe a sigh of relief that the new reality series isn’t the Senate proceedings on C-SPAN.

Wednesday, October 20, 2010

My Rap Moniker

You gotta give some love to Kanye West and Tupac Shakur. At least they have (or in Tupac’s case, had) the balls to rap under the name on their birth certificates. Just about every other rapper chooses a rap moniker. Some rappers put a profession in their rap name. Other than the obscure rapper MC Rap, most rappers don’t use their actual profession in their name. (I’ve yet to see MC UPS Delivery Guy or Java Sophware Developa’.) Instead, we have Dr. Dre, Professor Griff, or Queen Latifah. All of them have succeeded in their professions. Dr. Dre makes more money and has access to more drugs than a doctor. Professor Griff had the ear of more young people than any college professor. And Queen Latifah lives the life of a modern queen.

With this in mind, I am proud to introduce my new rap persona, Dr. President. I’m hoping this new moniker will instill me with the powers of the professions in my name. It would be great if I could prescribe medical marijuana and Percocet to help deal with my “issues.” I also like the idea of telling some attractive woman that she suffers from a case of the “vapors,” and that I can cure it with a steady course of clitoral stimulation and vaginal penetration. With my Presidential powers, I’d declare Will Divide as national blogger and make my birthday a national holiday (which it already is, but I’d change it from “New Years Day” to “Everyone Get Drunk Because Will Divide’s Momma Popped Him Out X Number of Years Ago Today Day.” It has a nice ring, doesn’t it?).

Also, I might rap.

Tuesday, October 19, 2010

The Drive

Make no mistake about it, you are a thief. You know the person who locates unsuspecting people, pulls a gun on them, and asks them for their wallet and jewelry? You’re just like that. Or the person who walks into a convenience store, stuffs a couple Twix bars in his or her pocket and then departs without paying? You’re like that too.

It takes farmers, factory workers, executives, transit employees, accountants, HR people, graphic artists, janitors, robotics specialists, chemists, clerks, marketing specialists, quality testers, lawyers, and many others to put that Twix bar on the shelf of the convenience store. All of them put in hard work to be able to deliver a product they hope that the public finds desirable, and you just stole it. Now the only way for the hard-working people to get paid is to have the rest of their customers cover the cost of your theft. Essentially, other hard working people are paying for your criminal rewards.

But, you say, you don’t steal candy bars from convenience stores. You’ve never mugged someone at gunpoint. You consider yourself a law-abiding citizen, pay your taxes, and even give to The United Way or the collection plate at church. So what? You’re still a thief. Just because there are no safeguards to prevent you from stealing and no consequences for your actions doesn’t make your theft any less of a crime.

No, I’m not talking about pirating copyrighted material off of the internet. I’m talking about listening to Public Radio without becoming a contributed member. Quit making other people pay for your crimes and reward the hard-working people who make Public Radio a reality. Become a contributing member of Public Radio today.

Monday, October 18, 2010

Amy Winehouse Should Die

I was at a bar a few days ago playing a typically poor game of pool. My third attempt to pocket the #4 ball failed, setting up my opponent for two easy shots. While sipping on my gin and tonic, Amy Winehouse’s “You Know I’m No Good” came on the jukebox, and I remembered just how much I love that song.

It got me to thinking that society would be better off if Amy Winehouse were to die soon. Don’t get me wrong; I don’t know Winehouse personally and don’t generally wish death to people who don’t deserve it. For her own sake, I hope she lives a long and healthy life. But as a member of the greater community of pop culture consumers, I know how much better the future will be if the #3 story on Yahoo!’s news-in-brief on Wednesday is that Winehouse is found dead of a drug overdose in her London flat.

Jim Morrison passed on in 1971 at 27, sparing us from seeing a bloated and balding shell work his way through “Love Me Two Times” at the Indian casino in Washougal. Kurt Cobain killed himself in 1994 so that we didn’t have to witness Nirvana’s “challenging” follow-up to “In Utero” that critics love but that you never quite got (and think most fans who say they like it are faking).

Winehouse’s “Back to Black” is an incredible album that will reach legendary status if she died. I strongly suspect that if Winehouse is able to make a follow-up, it will suck. Radio stations will feel compelled to play her new singles anyway, and some will gain popularity. And five years from now, I will have to hear her crappy single on the jukebox while I try in vain to sink the #4 ball.

Friday, October 15, 2010

Michelle Obama Admits President to Seek Reparations for Slavery*

I read that there were subtle differences between the Eastern and Pacific broadcast of the live 30 Rock episode from last night, so I downloaded off of a torrent what I thought was the Eastern broadcast. What I ended up downloading was far more noteworthy. It’s the videotape of one of a Jesse Jackson-sponsored Rainbow/PUSH Coalition events from 2007 (or at least that’s what a banner in the back says). The event appears to be over or in a recess, as there is no one on stage, but you can clearly see and hear Michelle Obama having a conversation with someone off camera. The other person is inaudible, but Michelle’s words are usually clear.

In the tape, Michelle admits that her husband’s political ambitions are mainly an attempt to get reparations for African Americans! She says that Barack Obama will run for President in 2008. Once in office, he will raise taxes on the wealthy to give black Americans reparations for slavery, he will push for universal health care for African Americans, and he plans on pardoning most African Americans currently in prison before leaving office.

I’ve watched the tape several times and it appears to be real. You can clearly see Michelle’s lips movement matching her words. I’ve enlarged the video, and it shows no signs of being doctored. If anyone else wants to see the video, email me at wmdivide@gmail.com, and I will send you a copy.










*Thanks for all of your suggestions on how I can become famous. I’ve settled on duping the conservative media. This approach is easy (just pick a conservative boogeyman and allege that said boogeyman is doing what they suspect he/she/it would do), and it has happened many times (like here, here, here, and here for example).

Thursday, October 14, 2010

My Quest for Fame Continues

It’s hardly a secret that I would like to be more famous. One reason I want fame is that famous people get to have sex with other famous people, instead of just masturbating to images of them on the internet. Also, the Will Divide action figure isn’t selling well enough to recoup my initial large investment. Plus, it would be nice to be remembered by the kids in my elementary school as something other than the creepy kid that accidentally exposed his left testicle in gym class.

With this in mind, I watched in interest as the miners trapped in a well for over two months were rescued in Chile. Congratulations to them for surviving and all, but what really interests me about their story is how they became international celebrities. Miners die all the time. If the story were “33 Miners Killed in Chilean Mine Collapse,” you would have skipped past it to read the story about the winner of the ugly dog contest or the dumb thing that Christine O’Donnell said. (Here’s a story from July about 38 Chinese miners being killed. Remember this incident? Of course you don’t.) Instead, the miners in Chile were trapped alive, which captured the imagination of people all over the world.

How can I become world-famous like the Chilean miners? I thought about hanging myself outside the proposed site for the Islamic community center in Manhattan, but I think a prerequisite of my fame should be that I survive the incident that precipitates it. I’ve considered falling down a well, but that would be considered brazen copycat-ism and would hamper my ability to blog. So I’ll solicit ideas today on how to be more famous and print the best idea in my blog tomorrow.

Stay tuned.

Wednesday, October 13, 2010

Women, Are You Dating an Asshole?

Women, it can be difficult to get an objective opinion on the quality of your man. You may view him as a “good guy” or even a “guy with a lot of potential,” but he may really be an asshole. That’s why I’ve devised this survey to help you determine if your man is an asshole or a regular guy.
1. Has your man had sex with a close friend or relative after you started seeing each other?

2. An important anniversary is today. Your man is most likely to:
A. Buy you dinner and flowers.
B. Apologize for forgetting it.
C. Watch sports with friends.
D. Have sex with a close friend or relative.

3. Has your man ever taken money from you without your knowledge, even if he had a “good reason?”

4. Your boyfriend has a difficult day at work. He is more likely to:
A. Engage you in conversation to reduce tension.
B. Drink every ounce of alcohol in the house.
C. Beat something or someone.
D. Job? My man doesn’t have a job!

5. The last gift you received from your man was:
A. Jewelry.
B. A vacuum.
C. A book on dieting.
D. An “I’m with Stupid” t-shirt for him.

6. While engaging in lovemaking, your man will:
A. Make sure your needs are met, ensuring you orgasm before or while he does.
B. Treat you like a sex doll, pleasuring himself without any regard for your desires.
C. Call out an ex-girlfriend’s name.
D. Call out your mom’s name.

Normally, at the end of a survey like this, there would be a key telling you how to grade it. If you are unable to grade the survey yourself, however, you are dating an asshole, and there’s ample reason for it. Get a clue.

Tuesday, October 12, 2010

"It's the Little Differences," New Food Network Show

There is an underlying theme to most travel shows. The host goes to some interesting or exotic location. He or she marvels at the breathtaking beauty of the landscape and/or architecture. The host then samples some local cuisine, either mundane, or fancy, or bizarre. These shows can be fascinating, but they get a little repetitive after a while. Watching someone eat a scorpion on a stick is shocking the first or second time you see it, but after a while, it becomes ho-hum. Yes, Hawaii is beautiful, but we’ve already seen a similarly charismatic host view the white, sandy beaches in awe. These shows appeal to the more cultured traveler, but they don’t give the typical American perspective on travel.

That’s why the Food Network is proud to announce its new show “It’s the Little Differences” premiering this Wednesday at 8:00PM EDT. Former baseball star and ESPN commentator John Kruk travels the world, one scenic location at a time, starting with Berlin. Unlike other travel shows, Kruk doesn’t dine at fancy restaurants, food markets, or even in the homes of locals. Instead, Kruk eats at multinational food franchises and documents the subtle differences. Does a “Royal with Cheese” in Amsterdam taste the same as a Quarter Pounder in St. Louis? What odd side dishes can you get with your KFC Original Recipe in Moscow? Experience the way a typical American dines abroad through Kruk’s eyes.

In addition to eating at common food establishments, Kruk stays at common western hotels to document the subtle differences there. What do they put on pillows instead of mints at the Hilton in Prague? Does the Holiday Inn have normal commodes and toilet paper in Bangalore? Tune into “It’s the Little Differences” Wednesday’s at 8:00 PM and find out.

Monday, October 11, 2010

Reason #381 That Men Suck

If you’ve never had the privilege of cleaning a men’s bathroom, consider yourself lucky. Men are naturally smelly, and have little regard for cleanliness. In high-traffic bathrooms, the battle to maintain cleanliness is especially important. Beyond the usual, “Who smeared shit all over the walls and toilet seat?” nonsense, cleaning staff have to be concerned about keeping frequently-used urinals clean.

Urinal manufacturers are aware of the need to maintain cleanliness. One of the primary defilers of the urinal is backsplash. The stream of urine hitting the urinal splashes in all different directions, getting droplets of piss on the edges and outer walls of the urinal (and also the man peeing and possibly the guys peeing next to him). So engineers developed the perfect urinal to reduce backsplash. The only problem is that bathroom patrons were offended. It seems that the best design for reducing backsplash is to have a large bowl at the bottom and a large semi-cylinder sticking up from it. Essentially, the perfect urinal looks like a giant, hollowed-out penis and testicles. Men didn’t want to pee in it.

The engineers for the urinal manufacturers went back to the drawing board. This time, they consulted behavioral psychologists to assist in the battle against backsplash. They realized that they could reduce backsplash by having men properly aim their urine stream not at the urinal cake or little puddle of water but at the upper part of the urinal. The psychologists determined that the best way to get men to aim properly was to put a drawing of a housefly at the sweet spot. A dot, bull’s-eye, or sign explaining the process were not as effective as appealing to men’s sadistic nature, the psychologists determined.

A man with his dick in his hands is a dangerous, overly-sensitive, pathetic creature.

Friday, October 8, 2010

Hoping It's a Phase

Lately, my 11 year old son Eddie had been acting funny toward me. Usually when I pick up him and his friend from Pee Wee Football, they are talkative in the car, talking about sports and kids in school. For the last week, the two of them have been mostly silent.

Confronting Eddie about anything is like trying to interrogate a Mafia Don. The kid will just lie about everything, take the conversation on bizarre tangents, and in the end make me feel as though I did something wrong. I’m not sure what’s going on, but I’ve decided to rely on the method parents have used throughout the years to overcome odd behavior in children. I’m assuming it’s a phase, and he’ll get over it.

My wife and I are attending a Halloween party in a couple of weeks, and my wife Megan wants to go as a sexy Indiana Jones. I have a fedora that would be perfect for the costume in a trunk in the basement, so I went down there to retrieve it. When I opened the trunk, everything was tossed about, which was strange since I remember keeping it neat and well organized. Then it dawned on me. For my bachelor party 15 years ago, my brother gave me a gift he said would get me through my married years. He spent hours scouring adult bookstores searching for the most depraved porn magazine he could find for me. We all had a few laughs over it, and then I put it in the trunk along with other things I haven’t looked at since the Clinton presidency. That magazine is missing from the trunk.

When I confronted Eddie about it, he cried immediately. “You don’t do that stuff with Mom, do you?” he asked.

Thursday, October 7, 2010

Running for Office

In 1987, President Reagan nominated Douglas Ginsberg for the Supreme Court. Shortly after the nomination, revelations surfaced that Ginsberg had used marijuana when he was younger. Facing mounting criticism and uncertain confirmation, Ginsberg withdrew from consideration.

Fast forward 20 years to 2007. Barack Obama announced his candidacy for President. Obama wrote in his 1995 book Dreams from My Father that he used pot and cocaine in his younger days. Since these revelations long predate his candidacy, the country treats Obama’s drug use with a collective meh, and Obama is elected in a landslide.

At some point in the future, I may want to run for elected office. I think I would make a fine county comptroller. That, or US President. One or the other. With that in mind, it’s probably best that I come clean about my past. That way, no one will care about them when the time comes to run.

I have smoked pot. I have also done coke. Also, Oxycondone, PCP, crack, meth, Vicodine, heroine, Extacy, Methadone, LSD, Valium, and this one drug who’s name I forgot but is used to tranquilize black bears and makes you feel like the king of the paisley weasels. In fact, I’m on three of the drugs listed above right now.

I have hired undocumented workers to do stuff for me around the house. Specifically, I hired two of them to pleasure me physically. This is probably a good time to point out that I have slept with prostitutes.

I once wrote a blog that had certain “blue” elements that could prove embarrassing if taken out of context. The blog could also prove embarrassing if used in context.

I regret these errors in judgment I made as a younger man, or at least I will when I’m running for office.

Wednesday, October 6, 2010

The Nobel Prize

I hate the Nobel Prizes. Every year, they give it to some egghead at a university somewhere. The prize comes with $1.4 million. The people who win the award don’t need the money, since they make so much from their fat academic jobs. They should give the award to average people who make life better for their friends and community. If you just focused on my group of friends, we should have several Noble Prizes by now.

After getting high in the parking lot, my friends and I went to Denny’s for some grub. Ed ordered some chicken strips with barbecue sauce, and Pam got a Caesar salad with the dressing on the side. When our food came, Ed came up with the idea of combining the barbecue sauce with the Caesar dressing. The resulting Caesarque is a delicious concoction that we now order every time we’re at Denny’s. For coming up with Caesarque, Ed should be awarded the Noble Prize for Chemistry.

About 10 years ago I was at a party. Sandra was passed out after drinking Jager shots as if they were Hawaiian Punch. This guy Steve who we used to hang out with was there too. Steve and Sandra were flirting earlier, so Steve thought it was his right drag Sandra into a bedroom and have his way. Fucking a passed out chic is not cool, and I told Steve that. Eventually, I had to shove Steve to stop him, which drew the attention of other partygoers. When I explained Steve’s intentions to everyone, the host made him leave. Since I prevented a sexual assault, I should get the Nobel Peace Prize. Shit, I’m at least as qualified to win the Peace Prize as Obama. Unlike him, I am not the Commander in Chief during two wars.

Tuesday, October 5, 2010

The Worst Sin

In my long tenure as a blogger on these fine internets, I’ve been accused of many things, mostly that I am not funny. I get it. Many people took Jonathan Swift’s satire seriously and pilloried him for it. Mark Twain wasn’t everyone’s cup of tea. Richard Pryor rubbed a few people the wrong way. I can’t please everyone.

This latest piece of criticism, however, was particularly painful to read.

Dear Mr. Divide,

I know that journalistic standards and integrity on the internet are close to non-existent, but I still believe that anyone with a modicum of decency should be appalled by your recent work. I am a journalism graduate student who is required by my professors to post my work on the internet. I have no problem with people linking my work in their blogs, but you have taken my words and put them unattributed under your byline.

Here’s what I wrote in a July 22 news story.

As a result of the sentence Mr. Bernoulli is likely to receive for embezzlement, police have decided not to pursue forgery charges.


Here’s what you wrote on September 29.

Police have decided not…


I hope as a person of honor, you refrain from plagiarizing mine or anybody’s work ever again.

Sincerely,

Jim Claybourn


I’m afraid Mr. Claybourn is right. I looked over more of my blog posts and found I do this regularly. For example, on August 11, I wrote “I was bewildered until I remembered,” which I apparently ripped off of this post about kayaking. On May 31, I said, “A trip to the hardware store netted,” which I swiped from this poor guy’s blog.

From now on, I will only write a jumble of words in Dadaist nonsense, which I hope will truly qualify as original content.

Monday, October 4, 2010

Found in My Spam Folder IX

You’re a good person. You consider yourself to be honest, and you love and respect your elders. So why would you lie to your grandma?

Sure, you’re intentions are good. You want to show her that you love her and that she’s special, so you bought her a “World’s Greatest Grandma” mug. By doing this, you’ve dishonored her greatly.

How is this possible? Well, there are literally millions of grandparents in the US, with more added every day. Unless you surveyed e very one of them every day, you have know way of definitively knowing that your grandma is the best. Yes, your grandma makes the best Christmas cookies and buys nice birthday sweaters, but some grandmas are working to cure cancer, alleviate hunger, and fight the terrorists. No matter how great the Christmas cookies are, they’re no cure for cancer. The mug you lovingly bought is a big lie.

But it doesn’t have to be. Here at Timony Industries, we are proud to unveil our new line of Asterisk Novelties. Yes, our sweatshirt says “World’s Greatest Grandma,” only our sweatshirt has an asterisk after it. On the bottom of the shirt in the back, in small print, it says, “Based on an unscientific and highly biased survey.”

Why limit the honesty to grandmas? We also have products that say “World’s Greatest Lover,” with the disclaimer saying, “That someone with my appearance and socioeconomic status can reasonably have without too much effort.” Or “World’s Greatest Boss,” where the small print says, “Ok, I realize you’re probably not he greatest, but at least you don’t berate me in front of coworkers. Please don’t fire me.”

Whether it’s a mug, keychain, license plate holder, or a sweatshirt, Timony Industries Aserisk Novelties allow you to show you care without making you a liar.

Friday, October 1, 2010

Note on a Break Room Refrigerator Door II

Dear Members of the Cleaning Staff,

I cannot commend you enough for the work you do. The last cleaning crew that we had in the office would dump coffee grounds down the sink. I’d come in in the morning and wash my mug, only to find the sink filled with brown, sludgy water. Artie in maintenance had to spend all day unclogging drains instead of replacing light bulbs or whatever he does. You properly dispose the coffee grounds in the trash, which is preferable.

I am also very impressed that you cleaned out the refrigerator over the weekend. The sign that says “Any items left in the refrigerator over the weekend will be thrown out by the cleaning staff” has been there for the two years that I have worked here, but its message was never carried out. I bring a lunch nearly every day, and some of the stuff left in the fridge was disgusting. I once threw out a half piece of pizza in a brown paper bag that had a full inch bluish-green fluff on it.

Since no one was enforcing the “no food in the fridge over the weekend” policy, I kept a bottle of ranch dressing for dipping carrot sticks that is now gone. I guess this is a small sacrifice to make to prevent the break room refrigerator from becoming an antibiotic laboratory. What’s more alarming though is that you also managed to throw out all of the refrigerator shelves and the compressor. The refrigerator is now useless. I appreciate your thoroughness, but you may have gone a bit overboard.

Do you know where you threw that stuff out? My Lean Cuisine is getting warm.

Sincerely,

Ted Nancy, Accounting