If I can garner anything from the campaigns for the Australian election being held later today, it's that nobody is voting for anybody, but against someone else. Also, even if Jesus Christ returned in the next six hours (in his chocolate lathered chariot, which experienced terrible melting problems during transportation due to the ridiculous inadequacy of the elves employed to build the chariot) and wrought ultimate destruction on all of the world's greatest socialist utopias (Iceland, Greece, Cuba, Venezuela, Vermont, etc.), I would have to admit that the title for this little spiel is entirely false. It is difficult to measure the anger that persists over the dumping of Kevin Rudd as Prime Minister, which the Liberal Party is doing its best to exploit, Queensland and elsewhere. There is also disappointment about Labor's perceived shift to the right under the recent leadership of Julia Gillard. If the following conclusion from these grievances is to then vote for the Liberal Party, then clearly there is a question of either priorities or political awareness.
Tony Abbott can rule out banning abortion to address concerns of underpopulation, fortunately, though his actions as Health Minister would indicate otherwise. He can also rule out bringing back WorkChoices back “under any name.” It sounds like conservatives have very good reasons to throw their weight behind this architect of political mastery; after all, Abbott is standing by their side on all of the things that really matter, like stopping a couple thousand people legitimately seeking refuge from persecution or violence from immigrating to the country, and treating the pollution of coal and petroleum companies as irrelevant even in the repeated presentation of scientific evidence. The fact that “boat people” were ever brought into the political discourse makes a farce out of the entire election, and it is reprehensible that politicians from any party think it is reasonable to detain asylum seekers on international grounds for processing. The use of “stop the boats and help families” as a Liberal slogan is either an indicator of a horrible blunder on the Liberal public relations folks, or heaven forbid, massive stupidity among the community who cannot immediately locate the inherent paradox in this conveniently ambiguous duo of policies.
In the spirit of this election, I will not give you reasons to vote Labor. I will instead give you some “reasons” to consider the Liberals: if you believe homosexuals are degenerates and/or that homosexuality is a choice; if you believe that women should focus on child rearing and parenting to the detriment of their careers; if you find it disturbing that children are born out of wedlock, or that areas of the country have legal pornography and prostitution; if you feel that the richest in society simply aren't paying their fair share in taxation while the lowest income class gets a free ride in a wildly unregulated welfare system that pretty much just hands out free money to totally worthless pieces of shit like students, old people, parents, the unemployed, children, the disabled, etc.; if you feel that the earth was created roughly six-thousand years ago, and/or you don't rule out geocentricity; if you believe that major national priorities should include the criminalisation of flag burning, sodomy, and video games depicting graphic violence and sex; if you feel that the best way to respond to a potential recession is to cut taxes for the rich to the detriment of the public deficit, all while ignoring social investments; and maybe you just happen to feel that people who are only just learning to speak English as of three years ago are not only a threat to the safety of your community but a threat to a way of your life.
And remember, “this election is extremely important,” “your vote actually matters,” and “this is all about building a positive bridge to the future.”
Saturday, August 21, 2010
Thursday, August 19, 2010
Ending Your Career on a High Note
I am a volcano waiting to erupt. The sordid acts I wish to commit are a plague upon those around me like they would never believe only waiting to happen. Here are a few of the things I am going to do in the next couple of days, right after I finish vacuuming the kitchen and alphebetising my bookshelf:
1. Storing terrible things in the freezer equipment at my place of employment. I don't normally have a good excuse to go fox hunting, so I am relishing this opportunity. Nobody wants to consume something that has been in the vicinity of a fox corpse, stored improperly to boot. I am exploiting natural fears among the population while also creating an atmosphere that is disgusting and unsanitary, which has psychological consequences for the people who must tolerate such conditions.
2. Leaving snarky notes for my coworkers to be insulted by. I maintain healthy relationships with the people that I have to interact with each toiling day, and now I can finally inject a healthy dose of honesty into the way that I handle these unpleasant conversations of necessity, perhaps in a way which will make these people question their solicitation of my companionship and approval in the first place. Everyone will be made aware of who is saying these slanderous things; yours truly.
3. Doing absolutely inexplicable, juvenile, and unethical things. It is truly fascinating what one can get away with in the short period of time where your once respectable reputation is rapidly diminishing in waves as you unleash the maniacal behaviour. The best acts of this kind are usually spontaneous, but to give you a general idea of what I'm feeling, I'd defecate in a place where people walk, maybe get some gloves and get a little smear pattern going, or spell out a carefully chosen word (yet to be determined) if the deposit is especially fruitful. The consumption of outrageous amounts of junk food at breakneck speed would be one possible way to aid this goal, and of course performed in an obscene manner in the public square (wearing only a tie and differently coloured socks, eating Chinese take-out with my hands, and using a fork for a Snickers bar, Costanza style).
Join us next week to learn how to get a new job (first hint: do not mention your previous employer as a reference), although the newspaper periodicals are full of helpful offers that will tide you over till we meet again (second hint: avoid the ads which lack any description of what the job actually entails).
1. Storing terrible things in the freezer equipment at my place of employment. I don't normally have a good excuse to go fox hunting, so I am relishing this opportunity. Nobody wants to consume something that has been in the vicinity of a fox corpse, stored improperly to boot. I am exploiting natural fears among the population while also creating an atmosphere that is disgusting and unsanitary, which has psychological consequences for the people who must tolerate such conditions.
2. Leaving snarky notes for my coworkers to be insulted by. I maintain healthy relationships with the people that I have to interact with each toiling day, and now I can finally inject a healthy dose of honesty into the way that I handle these unpleasant conversations of necessity, perhaps in a way which will make these people question their solicitation of my companionship and approval in the first place. Everyone will be made aware of who is saying these slanderous things; yours truly.
3. Doing absolutely inexplicable, juvenile, and unethical things. It is truly fascinating what one can get away with in the short period of time where your once respectable reputation is rapidly diminishing in waves as you unleash the maniacal behaviour. The best acts of this kind are usually spontaneous, but to give you a general idea of what I'm feeling, I'd defecate in a place where people walk, maybe get some gloves and get a little smear pattern going, or spell out a carefully chosen word (yet to be determined) if the deposit is especially fruitful. The consumption of outrageous amounts of junk food at breakneck speed would be one possible way to aid this goal, and of course performed in an obscene manner in the public square (wearing only a tie and differently coloured socks, eating Chinese take-out with my hands, and using a fork for a Snickers bar, Costanza style).
Join us next week to learn how to get a new job (first hint: do not mention your previous employer as a reference), although the newspaper periodicals are full of helpful offers that will tide you over till we meet again (second hint: avoid the ads which lack any description of what the job actually entails).
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Putting in the Bare Minimum
Tell your friends and foe alike of this wonderful news, for a tale of this magnitude should be spared from no one. Now, I had a terrible condition that meant I would bruise, and my easily disgraced exterior would restrict my fun. One fateful day I met a chap named Ricardo aboard a cruise, and he encouraged me to relax, to sit around in the sun.
Boy, did I sure take him up on that advice! These days I collect unemployment checks for exercise and the most important decision of the day is usually what flavor potato crisps I will be consuming for lunch. For more info, give one of my buddies in Shelbyville a buzz (he hangs out at the library), or send me a line, further down the line. This is an example of something you can cook up with all of this free time if you have the ideological inclination to do so:
POSTMODERN PHILOSOPHY AS APPLIED TO CONGRESSIONAL ETHICS
Maxine Waters (D-CA) is accused of wrongly intervening on behalf of a minority-owned bank during the 2008 bank crisis, on which her husband serves as a member of the board. Maxine Waters has always been a supporter of minority-owned banks, however, and she is a liberal firebrand. Revelations that her highly capable grandson serves as her chief of staff are not pertinent.
Roland Burris (D-IL) is accused of wrongly attempting to solicit benefits as part of a deal between himself and ex-Gov. Rod Blagojevich in the financial competition to fill Barack Obama's Senate seat as part of the Governor's “pay-to-play” tactics. Roland Burris, who named his son Roland II and his daughter Rolanda (look it up), claims only to have expressed interest in the seat following the exposion of the Governor's corruption, and would not have been stupid enough to agree to contribute money to the Governor in return for a Senate seat. Right?
Charlie Rangel (D-NY) is accused of wrongly accepting gifts from lobbyists, driving an unregistered vehicle without a House parking permit for several years, using government money for recreational trips, and a whole bunch of other stupid bullshit (would you turn down a free vacation? Of course not. It's rude).
Boy, did I sure take him up on that advice! These days I collect unemployment checks for exercise and the most important decision of the day is usually what flavor potato crisps I will be consuming for lunch. For more info, give one of my buddies in Shelbyville a buzz (he hangs out at the library), or send me a line, further down the line. This is an example of something you can cook up with all of this free time if you have the ideological inclination to do so:
POSTMODERN PHILOSOPHY AS APPLIED TO CONGRESSIONAL ETHICS
Maxine Waters (D-CA) is accused of wrongly intervening on behalf of a minority-owned bank during the 2008 bank crisis, on which her husband serves as a member of the board. Maxine Waters has always been a supporter of minority-owned banks, however, and she is a liberal firebrand. Revelations that her highly capable grandson serves as her chief of staff are not pertinent.
Roland Burris (D-IL) is accused of wrongly attempting to solicit benefits as part of a deal between himself and ex-Gov. Rod Blagojevich in the financial competition to fill Barack Obama's Senate seat as part of the Governor's “pay-to-play” tactics. Roland Burris, who named his son Roland II and his daughter Rolanda (look it up), claims only to have expressed interest in the seat following the exposion of the Governor's corruption, and would not have been stupid enough to agree to contribute money to the Governor in return for a Senate seat. Right?
Charlie Rangel (D-NY) is accused of wrongly accepting gifts from lobbyists, driving an unregistered vehicle without a House parking permit for several years, using government money for recreational trips, and a whole bunch of other stupid bullshit (would you turn down a free vacation? Of course not. It's rude).
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Overlooking a Four Leaf Clover, and I Just Might Need Contacts
Every so often, I “give gambling a go,” in the sense that I may be willing to invest a highly minimal amount of income ($1-3) on gambling machine games, usually to get nothing back and to experience a highly underwhelming, anti-climactic sense of disappointment from playing the game and observing the players around me, who are either outwardly disgusting or, for all intents and purposes, entirely normal looking, and yet this is how they vent, getting back at their stupid kids for asking for too many treats at the supermarket, or maybe to get back at their boss for making them work an extra two hours on a Thursday. I cannot help but feel a deep sense of loss for these people, who clearly have misplaced priorities if they are willing to slip twenties into their “lucky machine” for discrete little encounters in innocuous looking drinking establishments. These are the very people who are supposedly the fabric of society; the glue that holds our families together, but they are wasting all of their money – their children's education, for God's sake – on their chemical imbalance that is only alleviated by these mindless games and their financial connotations. At least crack smokers have a more thoroughly embedded sense of family and community (in some cases).
This is not about stereotyping anyone, nor is it about casting unfair judgments. Making patently exaggerated generalisations about people is exactly what got us into trouble in the first place (well, depending on who you ask), and only leads to deeply ingrained social class barriers which essentially damn a fixed percentage of the population only because of the accident of birth. Bearing all of this in mind, however, we have examined this issue a little bit more closely and have come to the stunning conclusion that we are able to learn all sorts of things about people if we just know a few simple details about their life background, education status, income, sex, sexuality, ethnicity, and intelligence level. These simple, basic details – which anyone would be willing to answer on a census form, or something similar – are exactly the sort of thing that obscenely wealthy corporations would benefit from if they were to compile all of them into a computerised database. (The exciting potentials of information-based marketing are already being tested, to your annoyance, all across the Internet.) What is the difference, one might ask, between designating separate public toilets for whites and blacks, and a company sending you advertisements on the basis of your past purchases of bright green flip-flops, Family Guy Season 4, The Faith Based Purpose Driven Life, and double Oreo fudge Domino's microwavable pizza? (The company in question has unfortunately already classified you in its 'Lower Middle Class' and 'Gullible Doctrinal Adherent' databases.)
The difference is simple: your choices remain the same, just like everyone else! You can entirely ignore the carefully tailor selected for your own interests advertisements, if it is your prerogative. The corporations, after all, are just utilising their sacrosanct right to freedom of speech. They could be doing just about anything and it would fall under that good old umbrella. Anyway, it's nothing for any of you lot to worry about. Questions to which the answer is No: 'Are we being slowly and meticulously brainwashed to the point of total surrender to global conglomerates?'
This is not about stereotyping anyone, nor is it about casting unfair judgments. Making patently exaggerated generalisations about people is exactly what got us into trouble in the first place (well, depending on who you ask), and only leads to deeply ingrained social class barriers which essentially damn a fixed percentage of the population only because of the accident of birth. Bearing all of this in mind, however, we have examined this issue a little bit more closely and have come to the stunning conclusion that we are able to learn all sorts of things about people if we just know a few simple details about their life background, education status, income, sex, sexuality, ethnicity, and intelligence level. These simple, basic details – which anyone would be willing to answer on a census form, or something similar – are exactly the sort of thing that obscenely wealthy corporations would benefit from if they were to compile all of them into a computerised database. (The exciting potentials of information-based marketing are already being tested, to your annoyance, all across the Internet.) What is the difference, one might ask, between designating separate public toilets for whites and blacks, and a company sending you advertisements on the basis of your past purchases of bright green flip-flops, Family Guy Season 4, The Faith Based Purpose Driven Life, and double Oreo fudge Domino's microwavable pizza? (The company in question has unfortunately already classified you in its 'Lower Middle Class' and 'Gullible Doctrinal Adherent' databases.)
The difference is simple: your choices remain the same, just like everyone else! You can entirely ignore the carefully tailor selected for your own interests advertisements, if it is your prerogative. The corporations, after all, are just utilising their sacrosanct right to freedom of speech. They could be doing just about anything and it would fall under that good old umbrella. Anyway, it's nothing for any of you lot to worry about. Questions to which the answer is No: 'Are we being slowly and meticulously brainwashed to the point of total surrender to global conglomerates?'
Monday, August 16, 2010
Freeing Fred's Fried Fish (An Exercise in Futility)
Shane on you, say I, for having the audacity to name your child something so pretentious as 'Austere Rice Jones.' You should be placed in a mental institution and your child confiscated by protective services. Shane on you, say I, for having the misplaced intrepidity to name your second child something so inherently distasteful as 'Salmonella Gloria-Alyse Jones.' You are a disgrace to your community and to the human species.
I raise my glass of champagne in honor of the idea that you and your newly renamed children never see each other again. Having observed striking photographs from official tabloid websites, the living conditions of your offspring leave me shocked and appalled at your disgusting lack of parental skill and astounding deficit in common sense. Have you no decency, that you could refrain from requiring your children to use litter trays in lieu of toilet training? Have you no basic intelligence, that you would understand not to douse your children in toxic paint as part of some incomprehensible talent show dance routine endeavor?
I have bigger fish to fry, though, and I'm not suggesting that we ban people from naming their children stupid things; after all, it helps us catch the crazies faster. And my Lord, are these people absolutely off the wall nuts. These people believe that you can actually improve your individual circumstances in a meaningful way if you adapt your perspective with a positive attitude. They then go on to reproduce. This scares many informed readers, who are dreading the prospect of the bourgeois, meditating yuppies with electric hedge-trimmers and carbon-neutral swimming pools assimilating into the mainstream and having an influence in business administration and even worse, public policy and the ideological tilt of the government. Some people claim that this has already happened, and they may very well be correct.
Of course, enough people have been distracted and bought off by special interests – either directly through government subsidy (and there is an endless number of people who have been bought off in this area), or indirectly through their own mindless capitulation to the capitalist system, investing in fancy gadgets and over sized automobiles until the banks collapse and they rethink their budget strategy for the first time since graduating from college. Everyone's got it pretty rough, of course, and so there is a lot of discontent, which is rife for stirring by any number of patronizing hotheads with an agenda to push and an ego to cater to. This is allowing us to lose focus of the hijacking that seems to be taking place here (no one seems to be worried that profanity appears to be in the regular discourse of the President, the Vice President, and their aides, who are prone to swearing almost as though they were real people). A pleasant side effect, however, is that people are learning to save more of their money, and keep some of it stashed away for 'rainy day' funds. Other people are partying like there is no tomorrow, especially those lucky souls who got filthy rich by betting on house foreclosures. (“I'm just trying to put my kids through college and pay for my wife's anxiety pills,” said one anonymous benefactor of the string of bank collapses in late 2008. He declined comment regarding the description that his mega-yacht was “vomit caked from all of the partying going on,” instead claiming that he was now trying to focus on his community service.)
Shane on you, Beet Lemon Ragland Jr., for naming your son Kelly Rectum Ragland, and then propping him up to be a tap dancer as a child when he clearly aspired to be a pianist. Shane on you, Lloyd Todd Krugman, for naming your daughter Farcelena Guava Sands-Krugman, and for inciting in her the capacity to create a frenzy of vampire activity at her public school, only for your own godless amusement. Armageddon is right around the corner, and something tells me that pseudo hippies with high-definition televisions don't stand a chance against the mighty chocolate and feather covered chariot of the Divine Lord and Savior as He rides down with reindeer and sweeps away all of the believers in His final act of protection against the soon to be battered earth. And people worry about melting glaciers?
I raise my glass of champagne in honor of the idea that you and your newly renamed children never see each other again. Having observed striking photographs from official tabloid websites, the living conditions of your offspring leave me shocked and appalled at your disgusting lack of parental skill and astounding deficit in common sense. Have you no decency, that you could refrain from requiring your children to use litter trays in lieu of toilet training? Have you no basic intelligence, that you would understand not to douse your children in toxic paint as part of some incomprehensible talent show dance routine endeavor?
I have bigger fish to fry, though, and I'm not suggesting that we ban people from naming their children stupid things; after all, it helps us catch the crazies faster. And my Lord, are these people absolutely off the wall nuts. These people believe that you can actually improve your individual circumstances in a meaningful way if you adapt your perspective with a positive attitude. They then go on to reproduce. This scares many informed readers, who are dreading the prospect of the bourgeois, meditating yuppies with electric hedge-trimmers and carbon-neutral swimming pools assimilating into the mainstream and having an influence in business administration and even worse, public policy and the ideological tilt of the government. Some people claim that this has already happened, and they may very well be correct.
Of course, enough people have been distracted and bought off by special interests – either directly through government subsidy (and there is an endless number of people who have been bought off in this area), or indirectly through their own mindless capitulation to the capitalist system, investing in fancy gadgets and over sized automobiles until the banks collapse and they rethink their budget strategy for the first time since graduating from college. Everyone's got it pretty rough, of course, and so there is a lot of discontent, which is rife for stirring by any number of patronizing hotheads with an agenda to push and an ego to cater to. This is allowing us to lose focus of the hijacking that seems to be taking place here (no one seems to be worried that profanity appears to be in the regular discourse of the President, the Vice President, and their aides, who are prone to swearing almost as though they were real people). A pleasant side effect, however, is that people are learning to save more of their money, and keep some of it stashed away for 'rainy day' funds. Other people are partying like there is no tomorrow, especially those lucky souls who got filthy rich by betting on house foreclosures. (“I'm just trying to put my kids through college and pay for my wife's anxiety pills,” said one anonymous benefactor of the string of bank collapses in late 2008. He declined comment regarding the description that his mega-yacht was “vomit caked from all of the partying going on,” instead claiming that he was now trying to focus on his community service.)
Shane on you, Beet Lemon Ragland Jr., for naming your son Kelly Rectum Ragland, and then propping him up to be a tap dancer as a child when he clearly aspired to be a pianist. Shane on you, Lloyd Todd Krugman, for naming your daughter Farcelena Guava Sands-Krugman, and for inciting in her the capacity to create a frenzy of vampire activity at her public school, only for your own godless amusement. Armageddon is right around the corner, and something tells me that pseudo hippies with high-definition televisions don't stand a chance against the mighty chocolate and feather covered chariot of the Divine Lord and Savior as He rides down with reindeer and sweeps away all of the believers in His final act of protection against the soon to be battered earth. And people worry about melting glaciers?
Saturday, August 14, 2010
Amazingly Short Stories or a Day in the Life
Kindest regards and our warmest welcome to the third issue of Amazingly Short Stories, which aims to provide a look into a day in the life of a certain Mr. H. N. Anderson, whose cynical outlook on life probably began shortly after his house burned down when he was 15 years old. He has held a very unforgiving attitude towards the world ever since.
Fuck You Guys, I'm Leaving
I ripped open the package, loaded the batteries into my cassette player, and then discarded the packaging on my floor. My guests observed this and began to ash their cigarettes on my bed and proceed to butt them on the carpet. I figured there would be a similar sense of comfort when I would go to visit their own dwellings individually, but my assumptions were quite wrong. The thing that really got to me about this, though, was that my battery garbage was totally harmless; the sort of thing I could pick up later when I was in the mood. Instead I had to clean these horrendous burns and stains out of the carpet. Those ungrateful little fucks.
I was cleaning the dog shit out of the carpet last night and I came across a fresh cigarette burn, and by God did I get fucking furious. I work hard for my things, all day long, toiling for meager payment in return for what sort of treatment? To constantly be applying obnoxious chemicals to my carpet and getting scrubbing fingers from spending a little bit too much quality time with the sponge?
This is getting out of hand. I can tolerate it no longer. I know which guest is the culprit, because the other is presently out of town. I head over to his place and light up a smoke. “Dude, you can't smoke inside here...” So I start pissing on the carpet. Boy, is he getting angry now. That man does not look happy at all. He looks downright shocked. He is giving me a very concerned expression. I butt out the cigarette on his carpet, and then finish up urinating to put out the remnants of smoke. “I hope you have learned a valuable lesson,” I say as I exit.
Nothing Compares to Your Company
I feel ridiculous. Here I am, standing in the rain without an umbrella. My hair is getting wet. I look like a fucking asshole.
James “Jelly” Sucrose is idling up to me with his flashy umbrella, casually eying my figure while feeding his own sense of pity for my miserable condition as he inches closer to my presence.
“Do you want some shelter?” I look at Jelly and I ask one simple question of myself: 'What would this man do if he were dictator of the world?' I imagined a world that Jelly would rule with an iron fist: nobody would be allowed to wear clothes, except those that Jelly deemed unattractive; and Jelly would likely demand to be called by some outrageous title like 'Most Gracious Global Emperor of Sucrose' and make everyone swear allegiance to his likeness before eating breakfast.
“Fuck no, Jelly Sucrose.”
My Job Sucks
I'm not really sure what I sell anymore, but I definitely know that I've sold out.
Today I was given the task of writing a new advertising slogan for a product being released by the assholes I work for, Maconnaise™ (Macaroni & Cheese-Flavored Mayonnaise). I sat at my desk, drinking cup of filter coffee after another until my tongue began to go black and my heart was beating faster than was comfortable for me – at all. I started to lose my sense of focus and concentration, and a raft of suppressed memories were all rushing to my head in the same moment. I fixated on one which earned me a criminal record.
One fateful November day, I was taking a bag of trash to the garbage can in the backyard when I needed to go to the bathroom. I dropped the bag of disposables and fled next door to the McRae’s, where I came across the Mrs.’ famed garden, displaying strawberries, tomatoes and cucumbers. Mrs. McRae, a 63-year-old widow whose college drop-out son was currently living in the same residence, was preparing dinner—turkey and mashed potatoes, a classic Thanksgiving meal—in the kitchen. The garden was viewable from the kitchen assuming the curtains were up, which they were. There I was, pissing all over the roots of a tomato plant, when Mrs. McRae stormed outside, very upset, asking me what I had done.
That's when it came to me: Maconnaise: It's Not Even Fresh™. This is one way to earn $11,500.
Fuck You Guys, I'm Leaving
I ripped open the package, loaded the batteries into my cassette player, and then discarded the packaging on my floor. My guests observed this and began to ash their cigarettes on my bed and proceed to butt them on the carpet. I figured there would be a similar sense of comfort when I would go to visit their own dwellings individually, but my assumptions were quite wrong. The thing that really got to me about this, though, was that my battery garbage was totally harmless; the sort of thing I could pick up later when I was in the mood. Instead I had to clean these horrendous burns and stains out of the carpet. Those ungrateful little fucks.
I was cleaning the dog shit out of the carpet last night and I came across a fresh cigarette burn, and by God did I get fucking furious. I work hard for my things, all day long, toiling for meager payment in return for what sort of treatment? To constantly be applying obnoxious chemicals to my carpet and getting scrubbing fingers from spending a little bit too much quality time with the sponge?
This is getting out of hand. I can tolerate it no longer. I know which guest is the culprit, because the other is presently out of town. I head over to his place and light up a smoke. “Dude, you can't smoke inside here...” So I start pissing on the carpet. Boy, is he getting angry now. That man does not look happy at all. He looks downright shocked. He is giving me a very concerned expression. I butt out the cigarette on his carpet, and then finish up urinating to put out the remnants of smoke. “I hope you have learned a valuable lesson,” I say as I exit.
Nothing Compares to Your Company
I feel ridiculous. Here I am, standing in the rain without an umbrella. My hair is getting wet. I look like a fucking asshole.
James “Jelly” Sucrose is idling up to me with his flashy umbrella, casually eying my figure while feeding his own sense of pity for my miserable condition as he inches closer to my presence.
“Do you want some shelter?” I look at Jelly and I ask one simple question of myself: 'What would this man do if he were dictator of the world?' I imagined a world that Jelly would rule with an iron fist: nobody would be allowed to wear clothes, except those that Jelly deemed unattractive; and Jelly would likely demand to be called by some outrageous title like 'Most Gracious Global Emperor of Sucrose' and make everyone swear allegiance to his likeness before eating breakfast.
“Fuck no, Jelly Sucrose.”
My Job Sucks
I'm not really sure what I sell anymore, but I definitely know that I've sold out.
Today I was given the task of writing a new advertising slogan for a product being released by the assholes I work for, Maconnaise™ (Macaroni & Cheese-Flavored Mayonnaise). I sat at my desk, drinking cup of filter coffee after another until my tongue began to go black and my heart was beating faster than was comfortable for me – at all. I started to lose my sense of focus and concentration, and a raft of suppressed memories were all rushing to my head in the same moment. I fixated on one which earned me a criminal record.
One fateful November day, I was taking a bag of trash to the garbage can in the backyard when I needed to go to the bathroom. I dropped the bag of disposables and fled next door to the McRae’s, where I came across the Mrs.’ famed garden, displaying strawberries, tomatoes and cucumbers. Mrs. McRae, a 63-year-old widow whose college drop-out son was currently living in the same residence, was preparing dinner—turkey and mashed potatoes, a classic Thanksgiving meal—in the kitchen. The garden was viewable from the kitchen assuming the curtains were up, which they were. There I was, pissing all over the roots of a tomato plant, when Mrs. McRae stormed outside, very upset, asking me what I had done.
That's when it came to me: Maconnaise: It's Not Even Fresh™. This is one way to earn $11,500.
Thursday, August 12, 2010
Praise Jesus: An Evangelical’s Not-So-Weekly Advice Column (#3)
Greetings, heathens! Today I received an exciting letter of testimonials from St. Peter’s Church of the Assembly of Christ in Shelbyville, West Virginia. Labeled “That’s a Fact!: Startling Testimonials from the Hell-bound,” this tract explains clearly and bluntly why so many people are going to meet eternal damnation. If I may quote from it directly:
“Sometimes your hatred of God really comes back to haunt you at the most inconvenient times, such as when I was fornicating with a young married woman, enjoying our unified and mutual denial—no, outright hatred—of God the Father. Some days later, I learned that I had been given gonorrhea by that woman; later that month, she learned that she was pregnant, but she had not had sexual intercourse with her husband for a considerable period of time. She decided to wait until she was eight months pregnant to get the abortion, and she forced me to come along with her. The doctors induced a premature birth and then took the little baby, put him, crying, on a table and chopped him to little bits with an axe. It made me want to commit suicide, but the woman told me that this was how we were going to do things if we wanted to worship Satan. Be wary of women who fornicate; most of them are like this.”
It truly is shocking the amount of deception nonbelievers have in their hearts. People living for today think they can get away with all sorts of sins, but the truth is that they will pay the price come Judgment Day. Fortunately, I am here to help. Today I will again be answering the letters of people across the nation in an effort to save some of God’s precious children from the dark sulfuric undergrounds of hell.
Dear John:
My mother is a terminal cancer patient who claims that using marijuana on a regular basis significantly reduces the amount of pain she experiences. When I told her that God opposes drug use, she told me that the pain was too immense without the marijuana. How do I handle this situation?
Mike H., Alabama
Dear Mike, your mother is the devil himself. There is no credible scientific research to show that marijuana has any practical uses as pain relief. However, research does show that marijuana causes schizophrenia, lung cancer, and chemical imbalances that may trigger sympathies towards Satanism, communism, and Zionism. Old people, who are often possessed by demons, have an agenda to legalize marijuana because of the profit they will make from their cannabis farms. God isn’t fooled by their wise tricks, and neither should you.
Dear John:
I was recently sent a compact disc album of a child choir performing songs with titles such as “The Holy Spirit Touched Me (And I Called Social Services)”, “I Fucked Jesus (On the Cross)”, and “Eating Shellfish and Pork for Personal Enjoyment.” I was shocked to see in the liner notes that my very own eleven-year-old boy was among those performing in the choir. What am I going to do? Regards,
Chris T., South Carolina
Dear Chris, a Wikipedia search for the Charleston Choir revealed that their eponymous debut album, which features the songs that you mentioned, has become a huge hit among young adults, and is gaining quickly on radio airplay charts. For example, they have scored three top 40 hits already: “The American Civil Liberties Union Should be a Cabinet Department”, “The Holy Spirit Touched Me…”, and “I’d Rather Worship Zeus.” I can’t say what the appeal of this garbage is, exactly, but I can certainly say that you should obtain all copies of the album in your vicinity and bulldoze them. As for your eleven-year-old boy, the appropriate punishment for blasphemy is a community stoning. You know that!
Hi John,
I recently came across a collection of jokes about famed Western movie actor Chuck Norris. Most of these “jokes,” with which I found no humor in whatsoever, gave Mr. Norris some sort of supernatural quality. If these jokes are meant as parody, why does Chuck Norris not exhibit any supernatural qualities whatsoever? Either I have a misunderstanding of the definition of supernatural, or the writer of these jokes doesn’t know anything about Chuck Norris! It goes without saying that this is libel, and I have informed my Congressman about it. I was hoping you would give more publicity towards my cause.
Collie D., Minnesota
Thanks for your letter, Collie. I was not aware of these so-called jokes about Chuck Norris, but they strike me as defamation of the worst sort. Only in a society where we have relaxed our morals and family values so much like in modern day America would such vile slander be allowed to exist. This is yet more proof that the end times are upon us, probably about three weeks from now.
Dear John,
I was watching a special on PBS about prehistoric times and dinosaurs and the like. I am confused as to why there were no humans in this so-called documentary.
William C., Nebraska
The answer is simple, William! People who make these documentaries—who, need I remind my readers, were not around when they claim these things happened, so they have no way of knowing what they say is true—use computer generated effects to give the illusion of reality in their films. No actual footage of dinosaurs exists, though the oldest human record of a dinosaur is of course the biblical book of Job. When scientists ignore God’s word and rely on the planted fossils, the result is moral chaos.
“Sometimes your hatred of God really comes back to haunt you at the most inconvenient times, such as when I was fornicating with a young married woman, enjoying our unified and mutual denial—no, outright hatred—of God the Father. Some days later, I learned that I had been given gonorrhea by that woman; later that month, she learned that she was pregnant, but she had not had sexual intercourse with her husband for a considerable period of time. She decided to wait until she was eight months pregnant to get the abortion, and she forced me to come along with her. The doctors induced a premature birth and then took the little baby, put him, crying, on a table and chopped him to little bits with an axe. It made me want to commit suicide, but the woman told me that this was how we were going to do things if we wanted to worship Satan. Be wary of women who fornicate; most of them are like this.”
It truly is shocking the amount of deception nonbelievers have in their hearts. People living for today think they can get away with all sorts of sins, but the truth is that they will pay the price come Judgment Day. Fortunately, I am here to help. Today I will again be answering the letters of people across the nation in an effort to save some of God’s precious children from the dark sulfuric undergrounds of hell.
Dear John:
My mother is a terminal cancer patient who claims that using marijuana on a regular basis significantly reduces the amount of pain she experiences. When I told her that God opposes drug use, she told me that the pain was too immense without the marijuana. How do I handle this situation?
Mike H., Alabama
Dear Mike, your mother is the devil himself. There is no credible scientific research to show that marijuana has any practical uses as pain relief. However, research does show that marijuana causes schizophrenia, lung cancer, and chemical imbalances that may trigger sympathies towards Satanism, communism, and Zionism. Old people, who are often possessed by demons, have an agenda to legalize marijuana because of the profit they will make from their cannabis farms. God isn’t fooled by their wise tricks, and neither should you.
Dear John:
I was recently sent a compact disc album of a child choir performing songs with titles such as “The Holy Spirit Touched Me (And I Called Social Services)”, “I Fucked Jesus (On the Cross)”, and “Eating Shellfish and Pork for Personal Enjoyment.” I was shocked to see in the liner notes that my very own eleven-year-old boy was among those performing in the choir. What am I going to do? Regards,
Chris T., South Carolina
Dear Chris, a Wikipedia search for the Charleston Choir revealed that their eponymous debut album, which features the songs that you mentioned, has become a huge hit among young adults, and is gaining quickly on radio airplay charts. For example, they have scored three top 40 hits already: “The American Civil Liberties Union Should be a Cabinet Department”, “The Holy Spirit Touched Me…”, and “I’d Rather Worship Zeus.” I can’t say what the appeal of this garbage is, exactly, but I can certainly say that you should obtain all copies of the album in your vicinity and bulldoze them. As for your eleven-year-old boy, the appropriate punishment for blasphemy is a community stoning. You know that!
Hi John,
I recently came across a collection of jokes about famed Western movie actor Chuck Norris. Most of these “jokes,” with which I found no humor in whatsoever, gave Mr. Norris some sort of supernatural quality. If these jokes are meant as parody, why does Chuck Norris not exhibit any supernatural qualities whatsoever? Either I have a misunderstanding of the definition of supernatural, or the writer of these jokes doesn’t know anything about Chuck Norris! It goes without saying that this is libel, and I have informed my Congressman about it. I was hoping you would give more publicity towards my cause.
Collie D., Minnesota
Thanks for your letter, Collie. I was not aware of these so-called jokes about Chuck Norris, but they strike me as defamation of the worst sort. Only in a society where we have relaxed our morals and family values so much like in modern day America would such vile slander be allowed to exist. This is yet more proof that the end times are upon us, probably about three weeks from now.
Dear John,
I was watching a special on PBS about prehistoric times and dinosaurs and the like. I am confused as to why there were no humans in this so-called documentary.
William C., Nebraska
The answer is simple, William! People who make these documentaries—who, need I remind my readers, were not around when they claim these things happened, so they have no way of knowing what they say is true—use computer generated effects to give the illusion of reality in their films. No actual footage of dinosaurs exists, though the oldest human record of a dinosaur is of course the biblical book of Job. When scientists ignore God’s word and rely on the planted fossils, the result is moral chaos.
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