LIST: The First Five Sentences I Ever Uttered, In Chronological Order

1) "Hey Punchy, take me to Gator Gulch, you whiskey-soaked bastard!"

2) "Lock and load THIS!" (points to teddy bear)

3) "We don't have time for the goddamn hospital! Just cut out the bullet and clean the fuckin' wound with gin!"

4) "Alright, listen up, you gut-rotted meat sack: when we cross the border in to Mexico, you and I are OUT of the smuggling racket!"

5) "I always hoped the last thing you'd see on Earth would be my face, you slimy prick!" (pulls trigger)

I Love Birds Now!!!

Lately I have been very interested in bird-watching and plumage identification. This has been very useful to me as a way of overcoming my grief over the death of my adolescent housekeeper Patty Knees, who passed away after inhaling five pounds of melted candy through a large straw. In any case, I have become a regular John James Audubon! (I'm not referring to the famed ornithologist, mind you, but rather the Miami weatherman who was recently found nude on the beach screaming at random birds.) I am pleased to report that I have become so adept at this activity that I have actually managed to identify several new species of birds trilling around my vast Vermont estate. Herewith are some of these species and the common characteristics they exhibit.

The bobbingale, small and red-plumed with a black stripe along its tail and a beak made entirely of sawtooth oak. It glued this beak on itself in 1994 after losing its original beak in a vicious barfight with Mickey Rourke. The fight broke out after the bobbingale became drunk and accused Rourke of receiving lip, cheek and collarbone implants in order to win the role of a sex-starved fruit pie in the Joel Schumacher romantic comedy Too Much Goo!!!???? The bobbingale hasn't seen Rourke since, but is happy about his recent comeback, even if he does think it will prove to be short-lived.

The red-bearded night hawk, known for being a hawk and having a red beard. The red-bearded night hawk ain't got all the goddamn time in the world to sit around jawing with the likes of you. The red-bearded night hawk was at the Stones's Altamont concert in '69, but complained that there "wasn't enough ACTION, baby". It once walked into a church right in the middle of Sunday service and broke a pool cue over the altar, just to "get a little somethin' shakin'!" It often places its wings over an open fire in the hopes that the pain will help it see God.

The blood-spattered blue jay is basically just a blue jay covered in blood. It comes home more often than not at 1 am, covered in blood with a haunted look in its eyes. Trembling, you ask it where it's been and what the blood's from. The only answer it ever gives is "I am making things right. Soon the Lord will take note of my deeds and deliver us, deliver us all." It sometimes hangs out with the red-bearded night hawk, drafting up "blueprints" for something they call "The Final Assignment". Don't talk to either of these birds, or the first one either for that matter. Just avoid birds, for they are thousands of years old and subsist on human anxiety.

A Primer On Our Tiny Town And Its "Crime"!

Hey there! Welcome to our sleepy little hamlet! We here in Dozington live a quiet, casual kind of life, far removed from the hustle and hubabub of big city existence! Yep, things around here are pretty peaceful for the most part. In fact, even our crime, when we do have it, is pretty mellow. So, if you ever stop by our bucolic little village for a friendly visit, you might read this short little primer we've prepared that lists the three most "notorious" (har har!) crimes that have ever occurred in Dozington. Try not to "doze" off in the middle of it! Heh heh!

April 17, 1965
Enos Bainbridge, 81, got a little steamed at his cousin Eenis, 78, after a game of poker at the home of mutual friend Eli Belge. During the game, Enos became convinced that Eenis was cheating. Enos got so angry about Eenis winning the pot that night that he stormed out of Eli's home and drove away-- in EENIS'S truck! Eenis got so mad about Enos stealing his truck that he called the Dozington police and reported it stolen. After Enos was apprehended at his house later that night, however, Eenis decided to drop the charges. Which begs the question: what's the exact opposite of "kissin' cousins"? Ha ha!

June 28, 1982
Dozington police received a call at 12:35 AM reporting that a group of teens were congregating behind an abandoned grain silo out near Rural Road #2. Suspecting a large drug transaction, deputies raced to the scene expecting to encounter some real heat! Instead, they found a group of classmates from that year's graduating high school class spray-painting "Class of 82" on the side of the silo. Boy, were their faces (and hands) red! (They were using red spray-paint.)

April 2012-present
Local officials sure have been "bewitched" by this crime caper! It appears that over the last five months, someone has been kidnapping local residents and sacrificing them in Satanic blood rituals! Boy, the person doing this must be quite the little devil! Ha ha! No one has any idea who could be committing these murders, although if you want my guess, it's probably a real Gloomy Gus! Yeesh! But seriously, if you are visiting here for whatever reason, it's probably best to stay the night out of town somewhere. It is extremely dangerous.

LIST: 10 Pieces of Evidence Suggesting That The One Staff Writer At Your Late-Night Talk Show Is Kenny Loggins

1) "I have 82 jokes about Kenny Loggins!"

2) "Your joke is sharp and well-written, but how can we work in a reference to Kenny Loggins?"

3) "Just came up with something: 'Kenny Loggins today. In other news, Kenny Loggins also Kenny Loggins.'"

4) "Come on, guys, let's finish this monologue by 8! We gotta stay footloose! Kenny Loggins!"

5) "I am Kenny Loggins, and I love Messina, and I don't care who knows it!"

LIST: Top Smoochers in the World

1) Edward Vasquez, Mexico, who uses tongue, teeth AND shoe

2) Laura Kinsey, USA, who smears white chocolate on her lips before contact

3) Jean Cardine, France, who once smooched the body paint right off an extra in a Red Hot Chili Peppers video

4) Abeni Balewa, Nigeria, known as "The Kissing Hit and Run Driver"

5) Eddie Dupuis, Canada, who once kissed a fish back to life and then kissed it to death again

Buy My Personal Items!

Hey gang! Big news! I have several items that I am selling through my website, sexcrazedspacehog.com, in an attempt to raise some money for my upcoming knee flushing operation. That's right: the litre of cola that has been sloshing around inside my leg since birth is about to be a thing of the past! In any case, here is a list of the items I will be selling. It is a veritable cornucopia, a king's feast of things I could apparently do without!

Technotronic Pump Up the Jams cassette single, tape unspooled, information on tape completely faded

The tape can easily be respooled, but the lost innocence this tape represents cannot! This item shall forever be linked in my memory with the day in 10th grade on which my high school gym teacher finally dumped me. I vividly recall furiously unravelling the tape in this cassette single while crying uncontrollably and screaming "I can no longer pump up the jams! My jams shall remain forever deflated!" I also have tapes from this period of telephone conversations between myself and my grandmother in which I tearfully pour my heart out to her while she grunts distractedly while knitting a sweater with Lyle Lovett's face on it. These tapes, however, will be housed at the Darren Springer Archives at Cornell University, just as soon as they agree to establish the Darren Springer Archives and stop sending me cease-and-desist letters.

Comb with teeth glued on

This comb is a souvenir from the day I attempted to assassinate both President Clinton and President Garfield. The latter task was ruled unnecessary when I checked a history book, which confirmed that President Garfield had died in 1881. Heartened by the fact that my to-do list was half finished without me lifting a finger, I headed to Washington, D.C. and waited for his motorcade. I managed to gain a fairly clear shot, only to find that the gun I was packing was not in fact a gun, but rather a large bag of BBQ Frito-Lays. Rather than being vilified that day, I was instead heralded as a national hero by President Clinton, who awarded me the Presidential Medal of Bitchin' Taste, an honor he made up on the spot. Anyway, I stole the comb later that day from Secretary of State Madeleine Albright after seducing her with several shouted and incoherent Spanish phrases I once heard in an ad for Vanilla Dr. Pepper.

Rubber plunger, minus stick

I removed the stick from this plunger so I could play a game of stickball with some youthful scamps in my neighborhood. Little did I know that the youths in question were actually middle-aged teamsters in short pants posing as children in order to incapacitate and rob me of the eight cases of Lik-M-Aid I kept in my front satchel. They worked me over from stem to stern for eight minutes, cruelly ignoring my pleas to continue for another five. To this day, I can't look at a package of Lik-M-Aid without feeling a pang of regret that I was unable to prolong their brutish, indelible thrashings. In all seriousness, if you are lucky enough to have a Teamster in your life, hold them tight to your fruitful bosom!

Anyway, here's the loot. Send me your best offers. I'm not entirely sure when I'll be able to send you this stuff once ordered, since I am currently recuperating in the hospital from a fairly severe thigh accident, in which my thighs crashed at high speed into the thighs of a local accountant.

Thanks!
Darren

A Letter To My New Roommate!

Dear New Roommate,

Hi there! I hope you will enjoy your new home here at 839 Turnbull Road. We're a wacky bunch here, as you're soon to learn once you get settled in. We like to think of ourselves as a group of people living together as a result of poor decision-making, a financial inability to live on our own, and a crippling fear of loneliness. In other words, like a family! Ha ha! That's just one example of the kind of yucks you're gonna get with this crew! Anyway, I figured since I'd be out of town when you moved in, and since Tania and Shawn will both be busy, I'd leave you this note of greeting on the fridge, letting you know what to expect from each of us.

I'm Jeff, and I'm an economics student. My dream is to, some day in the distant future, complete my economics degree. One thing to keep in mind about me is that I tend to start yelling when touched. Fittingly enough, I also tend to start touching when yelled at. These tendencies have made me a big hit on the wrestling team, but a complete washout in the debate club. Another thing to remember about me is that I demand to be greeted in the morning by the sight of a hairy 300 pound man writhing in torment in a kiddie pool full of chocolate pudding. This is an essential component of a new form of therapy I've been undergoing in which I begin each day by reliving the conditions of my birth. ( I was born in an abandoned candy factory and raised by Satanic circus clowns who tormented me by insisting on doing my homework for me.)

Then you've got Tania. She's a rabid Willie Nelson fan who also happens to think that she is inhabited by Willie Nelson's spirit. I've told her numerous times that Willie Nelson is still alive, but she refuses to believe me. She spends a lot of her time organizing Farm-Aid benefits and prank-dialing Toby Keith. She also begins crying if she sees anyone sitting in a chair, so you might as well start getting used to crouching, lying down on the floor, or levitating. Oh, she also has a habit of standing in strange places at strange times, so if you wake up in the middle of the night and find her looming over you, it's best to keep your eye on her instead of going back to sleep, as a way of respecting her "process".

Finally, there's Shawn. Shawn is... actually, there's not much point in telling you about Shawn. If all goes as planned, he'll be dead soon enough.

Anyway, that's about it. A couple of final points: don't throw out any of the rotting food in the refrigerator because Tania and I like to use it to eat, and don't ever step foot in the bathtub on the off chance that it swallows you alive.

Welcome home!

Jeff

LIST: Ten Nicknames For Your Unwanted Child

1) Lorenzo Adopto

2) Orange One

3) The Unforgiven

4) Mystery Meat

5) Billy Beer

6) Bilgy Bob

7) Begoneya

8) Platterpuss

9) Pipecleaner

10) Ummm...

My Kickstarter Page!

Hey guys, this time around I'd like to ask you for a favor. I'm launching a project on Kickstarter soon, and I just thought I'd run a rough draft of my Kickstarter page by you guys. Feel free to get in touch with me and let me know what you think. Thanks!

Hello, I am currently in the process of pursuing a goal that I have been working my entire life to achieve. Since I was ten years old, I have worked ceaselessly on making my goal a reality, toiling away in my parents' toolshed, furiously drafting and redrafting blueprints, only to scrap them entirely when they became unfeasible. Countless friends and family members have told me over the years to give up entirely, to focus on things like my job at the post office, taxidermy, and trying to get back my job at the post office. And yet, there remains within me a burning desire to see my goal to fruition! With your help, this can happen. I believe that for the relatively modest sum of $40,000, I can finally fulfill my dream: to build a time machine, go back in time, and make President Grover Cleveland punch me in the back of the neck while I eat lemon meringue pie.

You might be wondering: why does this man want President Grover Cleveland to punch him in the back of the neck while he eats lemon meringue pie? The answer to this question is that you shut your mouth. I do not need to explain the why, especially because if I did, it would take several hours to read and several buckets to mop up the tears you would surely shed. It is a poignant tale full of heartache and abandoned chili dogs. You need only know the how. Essentially, I am going to fashion the outer casing out of cardboard, sheet metal and old copies of Teen Vogue. The dials will be constructed out of old radio knobs and Adderall pills. My theory is that if I jump off the Empire State Building with enough of a running start, I can create a time warp that sends me back to 1887. Once there, I will brazenly mock his endorsement of the gold standard and suggest that his mother resembles a walrus drenched in leaf lard. He will then have no choice but to batter my neck with the full force of his ham-hock fists while I devour a lemon meringue pie for absolutely no reason.

Anyway, I figure out the potential cost of this enterprise by listening to outer-space radio serials from the 40's while meditating on top of a model nuclear reactor, so please give! I'll be sure to give Grover your thoughts on the Interstate Commerce Commission as he throttles the old mushroom stem!

LIST: Ten Quotes From Obscure Al Pacino Movies

1) My pancreas is like a time bomb! (Dumb Janitor)

2) I hate my grandmother's attitude towards bellydancing! (Scuba Cops)

3) Well, well-ow, my breastbone!-well. (Twitter: The Movie)

4) This party just got uber-picante! (Butter n' Ribs: The Guy Fieri Story)

5) No, no, call me Merton. Senor Chubbycakes is my FATHER'S name. (Remember The Time The Planet Sneezed?)

6) I lost my right foot, and my left foot, but I still got my middle foot! (The War Between The Three-Footed People and Lil' Wayne's Entourage)

7) Hoo ah, hoo ah, hoo ah, hoo ah, hoo ah, lettuce is on aisle 5. (The Al Pacino Impersonator Who Forgot How to Love)

8) I piled some sausage in this bassinet and I'm pretending it's my baby! (House Party 4: House Party In Space)

9) Pour some rotgut on the wound and let's head out with guns blazing! (Disney's The Silly Little Puppies)

10) Ow! I shot myself right in the passion! (Kids, I Am NOT Going to Push You Off Mount Rushmore, I Swear!)

My Harrowing Desert Island Diary

Day 1

The ship has sunk. I have no idea if there are any other survivors besides myself. I passed out while clinging to that buoy; I awoke to find myself washed ashore on this desert isle. My available resources are 8 litres of fresh water, twelve turkey sandwiches, five bottles of suntan lotion, and, of course, my beloved desert island discs. They are:

New Kids on the Block, Hangin' Tough
Billy Joel, The Stranger
Michael Bolton, Time, Love and Tenderness
Vanilla Ice, To the Extreme

These are not my ACTUAL desert island discs, mind you; I brought them along originally as goofy joke music for my job as cruise ship DJ. However, I can only hope they offer me some solace and company as I wait for rescue, allowing me to retain my sanity, faith and peace of mind. It's just a good thing I brought along that Discman for pointless kitsch value!

Day 2

Today I smashed Billy Joel's The Stranger. I just... I couldn't.


Day 3

I spent much of the morning wandering the shoreline and marveling at the numerous varieties of sea and plant life visible therein. It is truly humbling, the breathtaking cornucopia of sensual marvels of which the universe is capable. So much life on the most micro level imaginable! Stunning. This marvellous mood was soon punctured, however, by ten minutes of listening to Vanilla Ice's To the Extreme. Do you remember that there are faux-reggae songs on that thing? There are indeed faux-reggae songs on that thing. The dogs of madness are now licking at my boot heels; darkness approaches, of both the landscape and the soul.

Day 8

I captured, cooked and ate a fish today! Starvation has been staved off! I'd be happier about this, of course, if I hadn't tried listening to the New Kids on the Block album. I know it's not for me, but still. I thought this would remind me of human beings, but it's like snorting audio plastic. Boy, I really stuck it to that group that doesn't exist any more, says the head of the fish I just ate that is staring at me with a vengeful pity. Madness soon, maybe tomorrow.

Day 15

Death approaches on the wings of death's minions. This shall be my last communique, I suspect. All around me, doom circles like a famished vulture. And so, with the last of my strength, let me mark the end of my earthly consciousness by proclaiming: Michael Bolton is slightly underrated.

(Thus marked the end of Darren Springer's island journal. His life story will be turned into a film by director Danny Boyle. He is set to be played by Michael Bolton.)

LIST: Ten Ways To Unnerve Everyone In Your College Dorm

1) Offer everyone a "sloppy heap of curry custard"

2) Refer to everyone in your dorm as "my handsome little sheepdog"

3) Ask your roommate every day if they'd like to start a ham radio society, then immediately begin sobbing

4) Sputter haplessly through largely inaccurate plot recaps of episodes of The Equalizer

5) Walk up behind your roommate in the kitchenette and yell "your lasagne is almost as spicy as my lovelife!", then give them an aggressive sidehug

6) Leave out open and half-empty jars of peanut butter on your windowsill to "send the goblins a message that we will never back down"

7) Get creative and public with your use of loofahs

8) Angrily demand that your roommate review your sleeping position and give you tips on how to attract bedbugs

9) Tearfully ask the person at the front desk at your residence "You'd never blow up the chapel on my wedding day, would you?"

10) Loudly announce on your orientation day "If I were a truck, I'd be the truck that killed Jayne Mansfield!"

LIST: Things That Have Changed Since That Giant Blinking Eyeball Took Control Of The Planet

1) The institution of "Global Shower Hour"

2) The outlawing of Hawaiian pizza

3) Greater awareness and understanding of hairless cat rights

4) 1000% increase in death pits

5) The sun can talk now, apparently

6) #1 show on television is now "Slow Erosion of a Human Skull In the Desert", hosted by Tom Bergeron

7) We're really afraid of orange juice now for reasons that I have forgotten

8) Everyone who used to work as a management consultant is now a uranium miner

9) The world's oceans are all hounded by paparazzi

10) Average life expectancy is now "we'll finish you off as soon as possible"

REPOST: My Wikipedia Article, from June 21

Darren Springer (Born a split second after God created the wind in an orgasmic trance) is a renowned raconteur, auteur, flaneur, flambeur, entrepeneur, and patio furniture salesman. He has often been acclaimed, and on two occasions has been heralded, but, contrary to popular belief, has never been applauded.

Early Life

Born inside a mysterious membrane filled with ectoplasm and jelly on the edge of the New Mexico desert, Darren was discovered by a band of syphilitic prison wardens who had set up a commune called The Brotherhood of the Vomitous Falcons. They schooled Darren thoroughly in the arts of sabotage, thigh whipping, the post-genital arts, and “pre-antiquity ovarian baking”.

Career

In 1982 Darren began his career as a member of the East St. Louis Hooded Fangs, who terrorized the city fondling phallic produce and pretending to stumble over misplaced cleaning supplies. Between 1982 and 1989, hundreds of St. Louis residents were slightly annoyed or mildly inconvenienced by their strange yet tolerable exploits. The gang broke up in 1989 when most of them died during a rave held on top of twenty-eight live grenades. In 1991 Springer moved to Calgary and opened The Pepperoni Pen, a combination pizzeria and juvenile detention center. For eight consecutive years, readers of The Calgary Sun awarded The Pepperoni Pen the honors of “Cruelest and Most Inhumane Prison in the Province” and “Best Calzone”. He also owns eight jazzclubs, including the famed Flute and Tassel, and eight ballpoint pens. He has never sold patio furniture, and never will.

Personal Life

He gets around. You know? He gets around. I mean, not a lot, but he’s… he’s been around. He knows the score. He’s had his fair share of it. Never had to chase it either. It comes to him. Well, every now and then. I mean, he often gets afraid and doesn’t know how to go about it. But he usually closes the old deal, gets it done. One time it actually exploded. Even he’s not sure how that happened. He has no pets.

References in Popular Culture

Springer is mentioned in the 1985 breakdancing movie Ow! I Fractured My Spine While Breakdancing! I Should NOT Have Attempted Such a Risky Activity! The character of Eddie “Shitty Legs” Shittaye, played by Laurence Fishburne, mentions Springer 384 times throughout the course of the movie, never in a fitting or relevant context. The film’s other characters respond to each mention of his name by scratching their chins and loudly announcing their confusion.

In a 1995 episode of ER, the character of Jeremiah Chest, a literature professor played by Laurence Fishburne, mentions Springer 384 times throughout the course of the episode. The character of Doug Ross, played by George Clooney, becomes enraged and tries to suffocate Fishburne’s character with a small plush doll of Herb Alpert.

Awards

Springer has earned many awards throughout his career, including 87 Golden Brownies, 42 Stay Away Awards from the Society of Student Nurses, and eight Sarcastic Peabody Awards for “excellence” in broadcasting. He once stole a child’s backpack from a schoolbus, which he later bronzed and eventually ate.

Charity Work

Nah.

LIST: Ten Other Things That Clint Eastwood Pretends Are People

1) An uncooperative block of cheese

2) Unframed portrait of Thurgood Marshall

3) A Juicy Fruit wrapper he has nicknamed "Scrappy"

4) Broken 8-track player

5) The video for Michael Jackson's "The Way You Make Me Feel"

6) 1983 issue of the A-Team comic book

7) Jar of mango chutney

8) Index card with the following written on it: "Every Which Way But Loose...Any Which Way You Can...Any Random Pile of Methamphetamines?"

9) His own image on a DVD copy of Unforgiven

10) Mitt Romney

Thank You All For Attending This Emergency Meeting

I'd like to thank you all for attending this emergency meeting. I don't like being here any more than you do, but we need to address this matter as soon as possible or it will only snowball completely out of our control. The issue in question is one that has plagued all of us for quite some time, and I think we should finally put it to rest and move on with our lives. This is why I've called you here to the boardroom at 3 AM: so that we may finally find closure on this bothersome business forever. The issue at hand is, of course: what should I do to fully blast my deltoids?

I truly have tried everything! I do plenty of bench and other overhead presses every day, so you better believe my front delts ripple more ferociously than the Caspian Sea! Ha ha, yeah, I spent a lot of time working on that simile, so thanks for the nice words, Roger. Well, yeah, I know you didn't actually say anything; I just read the kindness in your eyes. Anyway, I think those are in decent shape, but it's the rear deltoids that might be the sticky wicket here. I need to keep those rear delts nice and supple to prevent any rotator cuff injuries on the mound this softball season. I gotta stay at full power if we're gonna rebuild this year! Hey, remember when I beaned Jim Ferguson from Prior Financial last year? I'm not proud of it, but he had it coming. He shouldn't have been standing on the bleachers like that.

Anyway, I've been trying the "bent-over lateral raise", where you bend over with dumbbells and then raise your arms upwards, but it doesn't seem to be doing much... wait, Leslie, where are you going? You thought this meeting had something to do with the company? I'm not sure what you're implying. This meeting has EVERYTHING to do with the company. I'm the CEO, and as a result I carry this company on my shoulders. Well, not literally, of course, but metaphorically. Actually, not metaphorically either, because CEO was just an honorary title my uncle gave me so he could put me on the payroll so I could move out of my parents' basement woodshed. I don't really do anything! Isn't that remarkable? I mean, even pond scum breeds. 

So, the rear delts... oops, everyone's gone. Hmm. Here I am, alone again as usual. Sigh. What a life I've lived. What a ride! First I was born, then I went to school, then I sat around, and then last night I ate turkey pot pie. Boy, the things I've seen... people talking about on the street! The places I've been... looking at in that atlas I found in that cave full of raccoons! And yet, still so much life yet to live. Boy, when I think ahead... ow, damn it, my delts just collapsed! Stupid muscle disease! Time for me to pay another visit to Dr. Felton Baxter. I wonder if he still has that electric fence around his estate?

LIST: Terrible Names for Professional Wrestlers

1) Jake "The Snack" Roberts

2) Empira the Mud Frog

3) Mr. Gangrene

4) Lord Footrub

5) The Guy Who Looks Like a Broken Eraser

6) The Emperor of Ice Cream

7) The Soggy Pepperoni Dame

8) Effigy Of The Late William Kunstler

9) The Early Finisher

10) The Second Coming of Jim Nabors

LIST: Ten Ways In Which The State Of Arizona Will Eventually Mark The Beginning Of A Pregnancy

1) Two weeks before conception

2) Right after the previous menstrual cycle BEFORE the one that leads to pregnancy

3) At the end of the Netflix viewing of Wild Things that led to the act of conception

4) Any time you think about sex

5) Any time you read or hear the word "sex"

6) Whenever a man and a woman meet

7) Whenever you fondle a grapefruit

8) The beginning of your nephew's baptism

9) Right now

10) You are pregnant right now

A Truly Irresistible Offer!

You're going to meet a lot of people in life who simply try to please you. They'll agree to any position you take on any subject, simply to avoid conflict or remain on friendly terms with you, regardless of how misguided or false your views might be. These people might actually believe they're helping you or making your life easier. Trust me: they aren't. All they're doing is perpetuating the inflated sense of self that is going to keep you from making real friends and achieving true intimacy and trust with others. 

I am not one of these yes people, these enablers. I truly do have your best interests at heart. I believe that you could be living a life you've only dreamed of. Your station in life could, nay must, be elevated to a position heretofore unimaginable! I want to help you become the you that you and only you can be.   But of course, that doesn't mean telling you what you want to hear, regardless of whether or not it's true. And it doesn't mean feeding you a constant stream of insincere compliments. No, my plan for putting you in touch with your true essence is simple yet bold. In short, I would like to be the person who repeatedly pushes you into a ditch.

How big will this ditch be? About average; just your typical drainage ditch. What will be in this ditch? Nothing that you wouldn't normally find in a ditch. Possibly rainwater, if it rained earlier that day. Who will be watching me push you into a ditch? Well, I'm certainly not planning on inviting anyone to this, although if you plan on inviting your parole officer or kindergarten teacher, as those I've pushed in the past I've done, then by all means! I obviously cannot guarantee that there will be no passersby witnessing the push, but if you prefer we can try to find a relatively remote ditch that few would pass by on their way to work or prison. (Sorry I've already brought up prison AND parole officers; prison has been on my mind lately. My father is coming home next weekend after spending 12 years at Guantanamo Bay as both a guard AND a prisoner!)

What will I shout at you as I push you? I usually try not to shout anything at all, although as with the passersby, I cannot guarantee anything. The pushing tends to be a strangely erotic ritual for me; I become very aroused when placed in a role of authority or mastery, which is to say almost never. Often enough I find that, as hard as I try to remain silent during the push, I will unwittingly shout out some feverish exhortation or other, such as "Flog me Timothy!" or "Till my field, you sweaty Viking minx!" My therapist has suggested that this is healthy and cathartic, which may be true; I just think it's a hoot!

Anyway, please appoint me the person who repeatedly pushes you into a ditch. If I first have to apprentice as the person who repeatedly kisses you on the forehead, that's A-OK!

LIST: Ten Very Cool Grandmas

1) Nelly Sigurdson, who cooks her mailman a "psychedelic chicken pot pie" every Friday

2) Ellie McGee, who doesn't understand all this froufra about the kids having the sex and the whatnot. As long as they're being responsible, let 'em have fun!

3) Evelyn Thompson, who accidentally walked into an anarchist bookstore last week and asked them if they have "any new James Herriot"

4) Annie Buford, who refers to those fatcat politicians in Ottawa as "boomerangs" because they're all crooked!

5) Stella Ginty, who is going to drive HERSELF to see Ron James, thank you very much!

6) Elma Jackson, who sometimes wears a Ramones T-shirt when she volunteers at wedding socials

7) Betty Barrie, who is taking yoga classes regardless of what that old cuss of a hubby thinks!

8) Alice Westwood, who likes to spice up her scripture readings at Sunday service by delivering them like she's an insult comic like Don Rickles!

9) Madge Allison, who likes to listen to the radio while she bakes so she knows what music to buy the grandkids on Christmas

10) Harriet Neilor, who figures that age isn't a number- it's a state of mind!

The Difference Between Stuff I Like And Stuff I Don't Like

I'm here to talk about the difference between things I like and things I don't like. A lot of people have asked me if there's a distinct difference between things I like and things I do not care for. Here is a handy primer.

Things that I like all possess a certain majesty, a certain operatic excess of spirit. A good example of this is the ball-point pen I use to write angry notes to my neighbors in which I angrily invite them to my barbecues. There is a certain baroque, operatic quality to the things I like that is largely absent from the things I don't like. For instance, the guy at the donut shop with a weird ducktail hairdo is very baroque and operatic in spirit. You can tell that within him lie great passions, frustrations and rages, and that he has probably spent time in juvie for pushing over an ice cream truck. I also find that things I like are very graceful and smooth yet sassy, like if someone turned Grace Jones into a chocolate mousse. Something else that is graceful and smooth yet sassy is the monkey that sits at the foot of my bed every night and sends telepathic warnings of my upcoming death. Look at his little tail!

But boy, I tell you. Those things in life I don't like? Brother, don't get me storted! Stirted! Sturted! (What's the expression again?) The things I don't like tend to be boorish, tactless. Falling into this category is local weatherman Jeff Bethere, who insists on leaving his blinds closed during intimate moments with his gardener and mail carrier. Does he not realize that sex is meant to be shared, public, and disgusting? I also don't like things that have a desperate, keening quality to them, as if they are helpless babies crying out for suckling. This definitely describes the cat who walks around my neighborhood eating the roast chickens I place on street corners for local toddlers to nest inside of. Can they not kill, cook and prepare their own roasted deli meats? How else do these cats expect area children to learn how to hide from collections agencies and parole officers? For shame!

Anyway, I hope this sums up the standards I hold for everyday life. If you have any further questions in this regard, ask someone who cares! (Namely, my literary agent Dawn Mackley, who is a delightfully empathetic person.)

LIST: Ten Things Chad Kroeger and Avril Lavigne Might Have Said To Each Other On Their Engagement Night, In Order Of Least to Most Likely

10) "Will you marry me?"

9) "Can you deny the corporate synergy that would be forged by our union?"

8) "I would enjoy it a lot if I could be your benefactor!"

7) "Does clause B on page 82 of the contract seem to your liking?"

6) "My lawyers have been talking to your lawyers, and, well, I think you know where this is going..."

5) "I have a pie chart here that suggests that it would make good fiscal sense for me to love you forever."

4) "Honey, you're so beautiful it's like you were highly compressed and fussed over in the studio by a team of industry hacks."

3) "I can't wait for us to bring new money into the world!"

2) "Clive Davis has already offered to be the godfather of our new money."

1) "Money, let's get money! I money you money!!!"

LIST: Ten Titans of Industry

1) Goff Alderman, inventor of No-Natural Puff Meat Spread

2) Blink Jasen, head of the very powerful Anti-Definition Board

3) Alanaka Biwg, CEO of Leftpocket/Staine Industries

4) Gork Naeti, founder of Stray Bullet Playground Consortium

5) Niecey Duclois, who stands outside the Best Buy yelling "Why do I need bags of hair??!!" and somehow makes millions of dollars a year doing it

6) Stickey, a very silly dog, and I mean VERY silly

7) Galaneta Bigovia, who invented a Twitter app that allows you to read other Twitter users' tweets

8) Maeti Bowtow, who once suggested that bananas should be dyed red and gets pelted with millions of dollars worth of nickels every year as a result

9) Gonny Pugh, who DEFINITELY gets it

10) Elliot Boow, who NEVER WILL

Letter To The Complete Stranger I Argued With On Twitter

Dear anonymous person on Twitter,

First of all, know that you brought this on yourself. I'm sure that when you wrote that rather rude tweet about that person I am a fan of, making sure to mention them in it directly, and then that person retweeted you, the last thing you wanted or expected was to draw attention to yourself and make people angry. You probably thought, "Well, glad I lanced that boil! Now to retreat to Gilmore Girls DVD's and kettle chips!" But oh no, my friend, t'was not to be. You've rattled this hornet's nest, and now King Stinger's ready to plant his seed! (A wasp sting is like sex for them, right? That's why they die when they lose their stinger, just like in pornography?) Anyway, you're gonna get the last thing YOU ever wanted: a heated, dashed-off reply that you can easily deflect by using even a modicum of logic!


Following your response, I'll continue my totally unwelcome assault by maintaining a nearly incoherent stream of invective that bears only the slightest relevance to your original tweet. When this predictably fails to shame you into renouncing your views, I'll begin to make personal attacks based solely on either sheer conjecture or whatever scraps of information I can glean from your tweets or your bio. When you counter by doing the same, I'll become unjustifiably defensive and accuse you of making assumptions without knowing anything about me. Then you'll point out that I did this too, at which point I'll start openly mocking you for any reason I can find, no matter how small or petty. You'll stop responding, presumably because I've really put you in your place, and not because you have other things to do with your day. I'll keep tweeting at you for a while, though, just to make sure I've really sunk in the dagger, and not because the act of feuding with you has brought to the surface feelings of suppressed rage and powerlessness that I am now taking out on you. Finally, I'll stop tweeting and bask in a false sense of victory, secure in the knowledge that you've been converted to my way of thinking and that I've dealt you the ultimate blow by validating your existence and instilling in you a sense of power. Won't that make you feel like quite the cur!


After administering my death blow, I'll go for a walk in the park and crow to myself about how foolish I made you look and about what a rhetorical powerhouse I am. Then it will immediately hit me that I spent all afternoon arguing with someone I've never met over something as meaningless as a tweet. Spiralling quickly, I will begin to second-guess every life decision that might have led me to such a regrettable folly. I'll then retreat to the mountains, where an elderly sage named Abner will offer me a tab of acid and share with me the secret to becoming the me that is present in the now. I'll have a lengthy conversation with his pet cheetah Cheetah Rivera, who will reveal to me that my energy should be redirected to establish harmony with the sun and the river. He will offer me morning glory squares and I will refuse. Then I will return to civilization and probably write a self-deprecating blog post about the whole affair. Upon typing the previous sentence, I will hate myself even more.


Yours,

Darren

LIST: Ten Books On My Bookshelf That I Will Never Read

NONFICTION

1) Whatever's Bothering You Is Only Bothering YOU, by Dr. Steven Piege (Not a Real Doctor)

2) Wild Mushrooms That You Could Probably Take a Chance On Eating, by Bub Maxwell

3) "The Unplugged Generation": An In-Depth Explanation of How I Lost The USB Cable For My Ipod, by Professor Piege Steven

4) Stroking Towards Home: Why I Spent Eight Years Swimming Inside The Stomach Of A Killer Whale And What This Could Mean For Your Love Life, by Brian Austin Green

5) An Oral History Of Irritable Bowel Syndrome by Dolph Lundgren and Edward Woodward


FICTION

6) Journey To The End of Chafing by Glut Bobson

7) A Series of Characters Invented For The Sole Purpose of Having Fictional Mouthpieces Through Which I Can Express My Opinions On Popular Culture by a whole bunch of people

8) Increasingly Rare Children's Book That Is Aimed Exclusively At Children by Piege Stevens

9) Incredibly Popular Genre Fiction That No One Will Admit To Having Read by P.G. Steve

10) Tweet Treats: My 101 Funniest Twitter Delights by Charles Manson

LIST: Ten Best Things to Say To A Junior High Bully

1) "My mom says the only reason you pick on me is because you don't like me and I'm weak! Take that!"

2) "If this was Kansas in the 1950's, you'd be my husband!"

3) "You might be cool now, but your life's only going to be downhill from here, unless you're very confident and you are and never mind!"

4) "Who's your favorite American confessional poet? Mine's Anne Sexton!"

5) "Hey, my doctor said it's perfectly fine for my heat-seeking area to look like a dehydrated George Wendt!"

6) "Save me, Strawberry Shortcake, save me!"

7) "I'm gonna get ya with my nunchucks- oh, shoot, these aren't nunchucks, they're copies of Chatelaine from 1991."

8) "A styrofoam peanut becomes more like a real peanut if you smear it in peanut butter. No, please, not my cumberbund!"

9) "My cat's scathing critiques of contemporary Broadway drama have kept me in stitches on many a Saturday night!"

10) "Wanna buy some of my thin mints? It's to raise money for my trip to see Up With People. And if you buy two, you get a free hug!"

An Open Letter To My Creditors

Dear creditors,

This letter is addressed specifically to the following: Royal Bank of Canada, Canada Student Loans, TD Bank, and notorious loan shark Jimmy "The Surprisingly Incompetent Loan Shark" Sharkey. It has recently come to my attention that I apparently borrowed substantial sums of money from each of you in the past. I am forced to take your word in this matter, as I am an artist and live purely in the moment, free of the constraints and demands of the past. I exist in a sort of ethereal chamber of creativity and delight that is occasionally infringed upon by Toys R' Us employees asking "Sir, can you please put the pants back on those Dark Knight Rises figurines?" In any case, I understand that your needs are not my needs, and that you move to the clock of commerce, with its minute hand made of 24-karat gold and its hour hand made of sterling silver and also the second hand is just a very small man trying to sell you on tech futures. The problem, however, is that your philosophy of "repay us the money we lent to you" conflicts entirely with my philosophy of "I don't want to do that." So, in the interest of fairness, I have come up with some possible solutions that I hope will be suitable to all parties.

1) Meet me in a park of your choosing next week and beat my debt out of me. There are ground rules for this, of course. Any beating implements must not be made of iron or any alloy. Wood is an acceptable substance, but only if padded with a soft substance such as gym mats, couch stuffing or Fleet Foxes albums. Hands are allowable only if cushioned by boxing gloves, styrofoam or the whispers of an anemic child. You can kiss me only if you are being ironic.

2) I am willing to spend 50 hours a week (at least) working off my debt by just hanging out in your offices and cracking jokes in order to ease the drudgery of your work days. I do several outrageous impressions that often get extremely close to, if not IN, your face. I also have several hilarious catchphrases I can spout at several key moments. For instance, if someone trips and falls on the office carpet, I can shout in their face "Hey, what's with the dive? The Olympics are over!" Or if you're feeling down in the dumps, I can call you "Mr. Cool" or "The Fonz" or "Dom Arigato", a very suave Italian guy I just made up who loves his mother but also emanates a certain desperate, if slightly sad, machismo. You'll laugh away the pain caused by your divorce or the death of your cousin or sexuality!

Anyway, do get back to me and let me know your preference. If neither of these are attractive options, I can always just fake my death. Anyway, toodles!

Darren

LIST: Ten Great Expressions From the 1930's

1) "She's one saucy little pizza!"

2) "You're either rollin' a six or getting pelted by bricks!"

3) "That fella's really chompin' the credenza!"

4) "I oughta send that mug to the soup kitchen wearin' nothin' but a loose-fittin' tuxedo jacket!"

5) "I tell ya, I got the pancreas of a pancake!"

6) "What, not speakin'? Did the Lindbergh baby steal your voicebox and do the Charleston on top of it and then urinate on it in a fairly unnecessary display of scorn?"

7) "Oh no, I swallowed a fairly large steel pipe!"

8) "He fiddled when he should've diddled! But hey, who am I to judge- I've been hallucinating for four days."

9) "Boy, I'd love to paddle the pageboy with a very large thwaptraption!"

10) "Do you have any bread or water to spare? My family and I have been wandering for days and are very very hungry."

LIST: Ten Best Things For Dudes To Yell At Ladies From a Car

1) "You are looking defiantly unsexed! Allow me to sex you greatly with the aid of my comprehensive new sex kit from Tyco Industries!"

2) "The gap between the rich and the poor increases by the very minute! Reveal breasts immediatement!"

3) "I'm lonely and you look like my mom! And she's REALLY lonely! Such is modern life!"

4) "Ron Palillo, who played Horshack on Welcome Back, Kotter, has died today at the age of 63! Let's hold each other and rage at the hooded figure of mortality!"

5) "Are your pants made of mirrors? Because I can see myself in them! Seriously, isn't it uncomfortable wearing pants made of mirrors? Especially in the summer? Oh, my Hannah Montana wig fell off!"

6) "I want to play croquet with my own testicles! Marinate in that information and then serve!"

7) "I enjoy your arts and crafts! They have a certain primitive power that I can only assume stems from your status as a complete imbecile! Let's go play in the sandbox!"

8) "I took the wrong medication this morning and as a result I am capable of feeling sexually stimulated! Well, good luck mowing that lawn!"

9) "I know what you're thinking, and YES, I am the police officer from the news who framed an innocent man for a drug murder I committed! And you have the right to remain SEXY!"

10) "I love my father's e-mail forwards! They are delightfully raunchy yet good-natured!"

The Latest in Fall Fashion

Gang, summer's halfway over, and it's time to start thinking about what frocks of glory we'll all be donning come autumn! You might be asking yourself "Why do I have to start thinking about fall in early August? And why can't I just wear what I wore last year?" The answer to both questions is, "Because we'll all die one day, specifically March 21, 2013, in the biblical flame of unearthly wrath that God shall use to clutch us once more to his hairy bosom. Until that day of eternal homecoming, however, you'll want to sport a nice peacoat or whatever. So, here are a couple of choice fall looks to keep the bats of fashion out of the belfry of not looking as cool as that guy Derek who plays bass in that local band Bluffcaller.

The Cynical Bunny

Fall is a time of gentle yet irrevocable decay. What says "gentle decay" better than a large talking bunny adopting an attitude of angry pessimism? The hot look this fall is "charcoal-soiled bunny costume". Stand outside your local singles bar in this get-up while holding a carrot and shouting bitterly about the alcoholic fire-eater who took your virginity and then cruelly gave it back. Point at the orange stains on your outfit and say "This is the residue from all the remorse Cheetos I been eating. My feelings taste like wet soot, so I gots to cover em up." Prepare for shabby treatment from the paparazzi, who will ambush you with such questions as "Who are you?" and "Can we please eat at Hardee's in peace?"

The Insulated Two-Story House

This look is simple yet insouciant!

First, take stock of the areas of your body or soul where air can enter or escape. These would include your ears and your personality. Then, wrap all of these areas with fiberglass, mineral wool, and cotton, making sure in the process that you do not think about how your ex lives in Florida working as a beekeeper for a drug kingpin nicknamed "The Key Chain" because he "holds keys". Now you should measure your RSI value, which indicates how effective your insulation really is. If you score a 1, or a "Sean Young", then your body is porous and riddled with pinprick holes of filthy emotion. If, however, you score a 10, or a "Gillian Anderson", your soul is as tightly sealed as a pickle jar in an Amish pantry. Next, cover your lower half in cement and make sure your foundation isn't leaky. Not only are you stylish, but just think of the miserable Eugene O'Neill-style dramas that will unfold inside you over the next 100 years, before you are demolished to make way for a two-story Japanese/Polish fusion restaurant called Sushi By Belushi!

LIST: Top Ten Candidates For My New Catchphrase

1) "And the beaver done kicked the bucket!"

2) "You still suckin' the gravy?"

3) "I swear I ain't pullin' your pork!"

4) "Kiss your cousin now, 'cause we're all gonna die!"

5) "The lacier the blouse, the roomier the house!"

6) "FLAMEWHIP!!!"

7) "This bar don't serve no unicorns!"

8) "Oh no-- I FORGOT TO CARRY THE FIVE!"

9) "Here's an idea: why don't I steal the vegetarian chili?"

10) "I have become death, destroyer of worlds."

LISTILICIOUS: The Ten Best Places to Update Your Dream Journal

1) In your bedroom at 3 AM after a successful "cheeseburger cleanse"

2) In the middle of your grandfather's funeral while trying to help carry the casket

3) After getting hit by a car, but before putting down the barbecue chicken you're eating while waiting for the ambulance

4) Inside the world's largest ice cream cone the day before it gets eaten

5) Under the bed of former CBC broadcaster Knowlton Nash

6) In utero

7) On the air in Cincinnati, Cincinnati WKRP

8) Inside the whisper of a dream that a clown purchased for 10% off at a fire sale at a Kansas City strip mall

9) Whilst shivering in fright in the shadow of empire

10) While hiding under an old jalopy during the Saint Valentine's Day Massacre

My Philosophy: A Summation

Always do to others what you would have done to death.

Keep an open mind about living in an open sewer.

The definition of humanity is "a portly otter eating an abandoned tuxedo."

Love is what happens when two souls, wild and passionate and racing against the moon, come together to agree that late-period Springsteen is hopelessly corny.

Dying is easy; kicking a field goal from 90 yards away while you're high on codeine, sleep-deprived and dehydrated is hard.

War is never justified unless it's a long weekend and you don't have to get up early on Monday.

Late capitalism is better than early Steely Dan but far worse than mid-period Mariah Carey.

If you ever lose yourself, put up posters in your neighborhood alerting others of your absence. Perhaps someone has seen you at a bus station or YMCA? You should keep in mind, of course, that you might not want to be found. You might be in Sao Paolo posing as a private detective for free butterscotch sundaes.

Regarding the question of "nature vs. nurture", the answer of course is "fat Elvis".

Religion is not the opiate of the masses, but rather the open-faced sandwich of the masses. It's a turkey sandwich on white bread and the turkey represents theocracy and the bread is doubt and the gravy is the way your minister insisted on patting you on the head during communion. Religion is served with your choice of potato and mixed vegetables.

All people are one. Some people, of course, are definitely two. Jeff Beck and Laurie Metcalf from Roseanne are the only people in the world who are three.

"Hyundai" is a Korean word meaning "piece of shit". Seriously, anyone drive one of these things? They break down so often you'd think they were being interviewed by Barbra Walters. Thank you, I will be here all weekend, try the ribs.

Art is distinguished from entertainment by a willingness to challenge or unsettle. Take, for instance, Un Chien Andalou and House Party 2: one is a bracing, disturbing blast of surrealism, and the other is Un Chien Andalou. Thank you, I will be here all weekend, try the ribs.

Politics is a game. Specifically, it is Sorry, in the sense that you are actively stopping the progress of others and at the end of the game it's like "Hey, look, there are still all the poor people!"

Death is like standup: it is customary to go out on a laugh. Keep the delightful Jim Gaffigan on hand at your deathbed.

LISTALOO: My Ten Favorite Ice Cream Flavors

1) Tooty Fruity

2) Scritti Politti

3) Gandhi Floss

4) Putting Green Apple

5) Meadowlark Lemon

6) Chocolate Labrador

7) Vanilla Sexual Interests

8) StrawBarry Bonds's Steroid-Induced Pumpkin Noggin

9) BaNana Richards Wants You To Know What A Neglectful Grandson You're Being

10) Cheesecake Photos Of Your Aunt From When She Was In College In 1987

LISTLESS: Ten Best Dance Songs To Ever Appear On A "Much Dance" Compilation

1) Mr. Oonce Oonce, "Oonce Oonce Oonce Oonce (I Feel Nothing For My Disowned Son)"

2) 2 Sexy 4 My Job As A Customs Agent, "Please Declare If You Are Horny"

3) MC Monkey Michael and the Banana Crew, "I Am Currently Despondent Due to Romantic and Digestive Difficulties"

4) Clang!, "Do NOT Ask Me How This Happened, But I Accidentally Whipped Myself In The Lower Back"

5) Unlimited To What I Feel Is Probably An Excessive Degree, "Probably Wouldn't Have Fallen Into That Open Sewer While Dancing If My Eyes Had Been Open"

6) Fake Hair Creek, "I Dropped My Pizza (Sex Euphemism)"

7) Amigos Del Legos, "Look I Made a Model Of Our House (Sex Euphemism)"

8) Dance Cap, "Sit In The Corner And Think About What You've Danced"

9) OMCOEFGHFENFI, "WAGRVSEBRHGW (OIWOINWOISHDF)"

10) Cipher, "What An Amazing Song This Is!!! (Shitty Song Remix)"

LISTABUNGA: Ten Great Quotes From My New Book About Acting, THE ACTOR'S SATCHEL

1) "When one is acting, one is never reacting; rather, one is eating potato salad and waiting for one's next line." (page 15)

2) "In order to act, the actist--oops, I'm sorry, that's a typo, I'll fix that later-- the actist must look to the sky for the flightpath of the crow. If he flies northeast to southwest, you'll win a Golden Globe!" (page 37)

3) "If you are called upon to do a British accent, simply aim for a German accent. When you fail, and fail you will, your voice will land soundly in Germaniatown, where chocolate statues await!" (page 56)

4) "Are you acting opposite a woman? Firstly, stay calm. Regardless of how you found yourself in such a dire situation, IT IS NOT YOUR FAULT. Offer her bushels of nuts and berries until her appetite is sated and she leaves the soundstage. Phew! That was a close one!" (page 82)

5) "Acting with masks is a very effective form of dramatic training. Also, you can wear your masks during the commission of several health-food store robberies in the area, which should bankroll your production of The Rules of the Game!" (page 107)

6) "When acting in a very tense and hard-hitting courtroom scene, deliver most of your lines while bent at the waist and looking at the floor. This will signal that your character is "doubled-over" with legal acumen. Viewers, with tears pooling at the corners of their eyes, will announce "The top of that man's head is at the top of its game!" (page 136)

7) "Have you tried this new grape Fanta? MMMMM!! So delicious and refreshing, you'd think the grapes were fresh off the vine! Deeelish! If any representatives from Fanta are reading this tome, I am always available for TV or print endorsements. Get in touch with my agent Bartholomew Stinch. Anyway, where was I? Ah yes: whenever possible, avoid Danny Aiello." (page 188)

8) "Billie Jean is not my lover. She's just a girl who swears that I am the one, but the kid is not my son. Anyway, that should clear up the persistent rumors about me and Billie Jean King, although, in fairness, those rumors were started by me. I am a very lonely man." (page 211)

9) "Remember that when acting for film, less is more. Make your facial expressions as subdued and subtle as possible. In fact, do not move your face at all. Study ventriloquism so you will not have to move your lips. Critics will call your performance 'huh?'" (page 238)

10) "But seriously, about the acting with women thing: I think the main reason I am afraid of women is that my Ozarks pa-pa Elmer Duddle taught me growing up that women are ravenous cyborg-cannibals who hunger after my thick soul-gravy. I realize this is not 'technically' true, but I admit I am still under the sway of Daddy Duddle's 1968 book Women Folk: The Purty Menace. Worth a read for sure!" (page 281)

Three Great Moments in Olympic History

With the Summer Olympics upon us, it's time to look back at some of the most inspiring and triumphant moments these games have offered us over the decades. The Olympics have that magical ability to inspire rampant, unchecked jingoism in the kind of people who, with a straight face, will then criticize others for "politicizing" the games. Herewith, then, are some legendary Olympic highlights.

Mexico City, 1968

During the men's shotput competition, judges discover that Russian athlete Mikhail Rumanov had greased the shotput prior to throwing it. Rumanov confessed that he had done so in order to make the small and very heavy ball easier to throw great distances. Judges pointed out that this would also make the ball virtually impossible to pick up or grip. At this point, Rumanov broke down and began weeping, pleading with the officials not to disqualify him. The officials assured him that he would not be disqualified because he hadn't actually done anything to give himself an advantage, unfair or otherwise.  Rumanov thanked them profusely, and ended up using a different shotput. Ultimately, Rumanov placed 7th out of 8 competitors. In an interview with Russian Shotput Monthly years later, Rumanov confessed to having placed performance-enhancing drugs in his ears during the competition to give him an edge. Mr. Rumanov currently resides in an abandoned refrigerator on the outskirts of Vladivostock, and stares in wonder at a Kremlin snow globe while local children douse him in bear saliva.

Montreal, 1976

French athlete Michelle Desrochiers, a self-proclaimed "avant-garde badminton player", takes the Montreal games by storm. Before matches, Desrochiers would pass out her self-printed manifesto to fans in the stands, in which she announced her intentions to challenge the bourgeois-capitalist values that mainstream badminton promoted, however unwittingly. Desrochiers' sustained critique of badminton involved using unorthodox materials in place of conventional equipment. For example, instead of a racket, Desrochiers used a stuffed raccoon smeared in lipstick and iguana blood, and instead of a regular shuttlecock, she insisted on playing with a plastic vagina with the words LOOSE LIPS SINK SHIPS scrawled across it. Also, rather than spending the entire game on the court, Desrochiers would often spend an entire match in the stands, either leaving her side empty or recruiting a crowd member to play for her while she shot at them with a BB gun. Desrochiers caused great controversy among fellow avant-badmintonites during her final game against Finland's Taanen Selanen when she used an actual racket to hit an actual shuttlecock over the net. This cost her a very lucrative endorsement deal with Duplessi Brand Razor O's, the world's only razor-blade-based breakfast cereal. 

Every Olympics Ever

The host city buses the homeless out of town or places large tarps over them and everyone pretends this isn't happening. This only happens for the two weeks the Olympics are in town, of course; the rest of the year they are treated with compassion and respect.

BLASTICLE FROM THE PASTICLE: MY AGITPROP PLAY

Taking a break from posting a silly list today to bring you something I wrote three years ago for the Apple Crisp online zine that I still like. Enjoy!

http://zine.applecrisp.ca/2009/03/03/darrens-ditherings-5/

LISTAROONIO: Great 70's Funk Album Titles

1) Locked in the Funk of a Car

2) Slam Funk

3) Funk and Disorderly

4) Funk Mail

5) The Benedictine Funks of Santo Dofunko De Soulis

6) Elements of Wild Style by Funk and White

7) I Funked Out of Veterinary School, So Now I’m A Carnie Working The Funk Tank

8) I Can’t Believe I Funked All Of My Life Savings Into This Artificial Groove Thang

9) Shit, I Just Got Sprayed By A Rabid Funk! AND I Lost My Life Savings!

10) Life Feels Hopeless Because I Just Feel Like My Existence Is In No Way Meaningfunk

A Chapter From My New Romance Novel!!!!!

By now, I’m sure many of you are familiar with the smash hit bestselling romance novel Fifty Shades of Grey, which, as I understand it, is about fifty horses, all of them various shades of grey, who become paralyzed at the legs in a freak funk-aerobics accident and have to be taught to dance and love again by a loutish yet charming hip-hop dancer from the Bronx nicknamed Garlic Alfredo (to be played in the movie version, rumor has it, by Channing Tatum). 

According to the story surrounding the book’s publication, the novel actually started as Twilight fan fiction until the author changed the names of the main characters, as well as some of the more vampire-centric details. (Example: “He sank his fangs into her neck” became “They had some really corking sex, following which they sat in beanbag chairs and talked about vintage cartoons from the 1930’s.”) Anyway, all this hoopla has inspired me to adapt some fan fiction of my own into a bonafide bodice-ripper! Herewith is an except from my upcoming romance novel About a Half Dozen Or So Pinkish Tones, which is adapted from a piece of 60 Minutes fan fiction I wrote three years ago. Enjoy this snippet!

Longtime 61 Minutes producer Donald Prewitt walked into his office in the WBS News headquarters in New York City. He had produced the show for many years and had helped to set a nearly insurmountable standard for television journalism. He had won many Enny Awards throughout his career, as well as several Teabuddies. He was about to meet with veteran anchor Muck Wallis about a new story he’d been working on that was proving to be a real hot potato. The story suggested that former president Greg Dubloon Bash had definitely lied about the presence of WMD’s (Warpaints of Major Delight) in the country of Alack. Prewitt and Wallis wanted to be sure that Wallis’s sources could be trusted and that every fact asserted in the piece was checked and double-checked.

“Don,” Muck announced, “this story is a real powderkeg. And if we’re not careful, it’s gonna blow powder all over our wigs, rendering them ‘powdered wigs’, as it were.”

Prewitt frowned. “I don’t wear a wig, Muck.”

Wallis shrugged. “Well, your codpiece then. You’ll have a powdered codpiece. Any man who doesn’t wear a wig wears a codpiece. I read that in the Farmer’s Almanac.”

“You almost certainly did not, Muck. Anyway, your source on the yellowcake uranium thing, ‘Mr. Whisper’, he’s reliable? He’s been vetted?”

Wallis nodded enthusiastically. “Yep, he’s the real deal. I had him over for turkey dinner with the wife. He’s got a strong handshake, he’s a Jets fan, and he did this hilarious routine where he pretended his turkey leg was a banjo and he was a drifter in the 1930’s who sang songs about ladies’ neckbones. He’s a swell bro!”

Prewitt chuckled and shook his head. “Oh, Muck.  Whatever shall we do with you?”

“Tee hee,” Wallis giggled. “I sure hope no one ever finds out that I’m secretly a bit of a randy nincompoop.” He paused and sighed with great contentment. “Hey Don,” he whispered, “you thinking what I’m thinking?”

The two men made love. It was brisk, efficient and economical, although veteran correspondent Randy Mooney didn’t think it was as good as it used to be, and talked about it at length during his segment on the week’s broadcast.

END OF CHAPTER TWO

LISTORAMA: Ten Memorable Rap/Easy Listening Duets

1) DMX and Ringo Starr, "What Kind of Monster Doesn't Love Cotton Candy?"

2) Salt n' Pepa and Lee Greenwood, "Let's Not Talk About Sex, But Instead About How Lucky We Are To Be Living In The Old U.S.A."

3) Dr. Dre and Mike and the Mechanics, "Naughty Puppy Playground"

4) Nicki Minaj and Don Henley, "Let's Measure Our Inseams While High on Mescaline"

5) Drake and Jackson Browne, "Is It Weird That I'm Eating Popcorn At My Uncle's Surgery?"

6) Eminem and Anne Murray, "I Don't Know How I Managed To Cheat On My Wife While I Was In A Coma, But I Did"

7) Jay-Z and Air Supply, "Doing The Robot Ironically Isn't Funny Anymore"

8) Lil Wayne and Bryan Adams, "You Are Hereby Kicked Out Of The Supercool Army Dudes Treehouse Club!!!!!"

9) Vanilla Ice and Gordon Lightfoot, "Ha Ha, OK. Well, OK, Let's Give It A Rest Now. I Mean, We've Had Our Fun, But That's... Maybe Going A Bit Too Far. Heh Heh. Shut Up."

10) Kanye West and Neil Sedaka, "I Thought It Was Funny, But Then Again I've Ingested A Lot Of Hazardous Chemicals In My Job As A Bible Salesman"

LISTYLOO: Ten Quotes From My Somewhat Fictionalized Muhammad Ali Biopic

1) "You may have floated like a butterfly, but you neglected your son!"

2) "Sure, I'll go to Vietnam. But on one condition: that you send home my good friend John Rambo!"

3) "Sure, I'll give your demo a listen. What's the name of your band? 'The Beatles'? Yeesh."

4) "Sure, I'll give your demo a listen. What's the name of your band? 'Hoobastank"? Yeesh."

5) "It's called moonshine, and we gotta haul it over the county line before Boss Hogg gets his mitts on us!"

6) "Well, I have to keep my promise to my father. Now that I've won the heavyweight belt, I am going to eat it."

7) "The vampires are flying now? Damn it, no way I can rope-a-dope my way out of this one."

8) "(sobs) I never would've gone on The Real World if I knew I'd have to live with someone like Shawna!"

9) "Mm, meatlovers pizza! Num num num!" (Eats pizza for twenty minutes, passes out in front of McMillan and Wife rerun)

10) "Well, it was a pleasure to meet you. Best of luck to you, Mr. Forrest Gump."

LISTONI: Ten Things You Shouldn't Say When Someone Tells You They Love You

1) "Don't ask me how, but I managed to figure that out from sifting through your garbage."

2) "I'm afraid I'm already married to the sea. Whoops, I mean "The C", famed hip-hop producer and clothing designer."

3) "You still haven't seen through the facade? Huh. Thought you were smarter than that."

4) "Well, in turn, I am in love with the IDEA of loving you."

5) "Love is a capitalist construct. Is there any way I can make a lot of money from you loving me?"

6) "I knew it. Is it my jogging shorts and the tightness thereof?"

7) "Whoa whoa, stop what you're saying right now. Shut up. I just came up with a great lyric. 'You love me, but I don't love you/I laugh to myself at what you're going through...'"

8) "That is interesting, as I have been gored in the love muscle by the bull of wanting to have sex with you."

9) "Cool, can you take a look at my Law and Order:Special Victims Unit spec script and tell me if it's stupid enough?"

10) "I'm sorry, what? I didn't catch what you said the last six months."

New Film Review!

Is there a director alive that can boast the kind of talent that Weirdo Blatt has shown in the six films he’s made in only six years as a filmmaker? Any discussion of the best films of the last decade has to include Blatt’s 2006 debut I Done Ate Too Many Goshdurned Fancy Chocolates, starring heartthrob Ticket Mackelfish as a would-be rabbit assassin who becomes a rabbit himself, or 2008’s Kachung Kachung Kachung Kachung Kachung, a stop-motion animated film in which a butcher spends 80 minutes angrily impersonating his mother inside a dumpster. I wish I could say that his new film If Anyone Is Entitled to Eat a Block of Cheese During Jury Duty It’s Me, Dad!!! continues this pattern of excellence. Unfortunately, it represents the first serious misstep in Blatt’s filmography. 

The movie chronicles a week in the life of Stan Uglee, played with far too many loud burps by serial killer turned movie star Craig Stop. Uglee is a forty year old underachiever who helps his parents with their business selling opinionated ducks to cyborg basketball players, a plot detail that is especially confusing since the film is set in 1942. Uglee constantly bemoans his lot in life, when he isn’t grabbing his breasts and honking them loudly, an act that occurs only in what are supposed to be the most moving and dramatic scenes. As one might expect, this entirely undercuts the power of the film, as does the fact that it was filmed in black and white and then colored entirely in purple crayon.

The film’s main flaw, however, lies in the romantic subplot in which Uglee becomes enamored with a neighborhood dog masseuse named Krustee Empress (played by a large birch tree smeared with lipstick). The scenes between these two would-be lovers manage to be both treacly and incoherent, mainly because the birch tree cannot talk and no voiceover is supplied for it. This is especially damaging to the film’s final scene, a fifteen-minute monologue in which the birch tree presumably tells Uglee something very important about how it feels, although we have no way of knowing what exactly. 

Another major blunder is the film’s score, which is composed entirely of messages that Blatt himself left on his ex-girlfriend’s answering machine in the late nineties, played at a volume that often drowns out the movie’s dialogue. This would be a huge detriment to other films, but the writing here is so putrid the distraction comes as a relief. (Sample exchange: “I gots snot runnin’ down to my toes.” “THAT AIN’T NO REASON NOT TO GO TO COLLEGE!!!!”.) The only bright spot in this dismal cinematic affair is the closing credits, which, instead of being projected onscreen, are screamed in the face of each audience member by a professional Tom Waits impersonator with whiskey breath.

Ultimately, while this is an ambitious work, it also made me angry and a little stupid. In ranking this movie using my trademark 10-crotch rating system, I give it 5 and a half pelvis pennies out of 8 ¾ disco thrusts, which is very bad indeed. Me no like this thing! 

LISTAREENO: What The Hell?

1) What the hell is going on here?

2) Am I an idiot? Was I the only one who didn't see this coming?

3) I've been around a few naked rodeos, but I have NEVER seen anything like this.

4) Jesus Christ, this is nuts!

5) I mean, I get the chipmunks with makeup, that's a given.

6) But Alan Alda nude holding pruning shears? What????

7) And man, I do NOT want to see Danny Bonaduce doing THAT with a can of peaches again!

8) I just can't believe this got officially sanctioned by the city of Topeka, especially with all the yak blood!

9) And there's no way I can unsee Peter Mansbridge being so... THOROUGH with a riding crop and four strips of velcro! Ah-yeesh!

10) Although I did like when they groped Tom Cochrane in effigy. It moved me to tears!

LISTOLIO: The Ten Best Candidates For The Title Of "Fifth Beatle"

1) Pete Best

2) Stu Sutcliffe

3) Brian Epstein

4) George Martin

5) Jessica Tandy

6) Fred Savage

7) Genesis P. Orridge

8) Young MC

9) Downtown Julie Brown

10) A large dowsing rod in some boring museum somewhere

A Selection of My Finest Poems

Hey gang, I've been writing a lot of poetry lately, and here are the best of the bunch. I'm revealing a lot of myself here, so enjoy the wild, rocky ride that is me.

Society

Society? Uh, no thanks!

What's that, society? You want me to fit into one of your comfortable little "labels"? Uh, gee, let me think about it... uh, NO THANKS!

Pardon? You'd like me to subscribe to your tiny little definition of success and happiness? You want me to kill myself running around in your little ratrace trying to claw out my own little piece of cheese? Well, gee, I'll need to think about this... uh, NOPE!!!!!

Uh, I'm sorry, did I hear correctly? Did you want me to become a foot soldier in your corporate army? Well, how much does it pay? Benefits? Huh, not bad. Vacation? Two weeks paid a year? Whoa. Well, what the hell. I'll, uh, I'll find a way to make it work for me. Yep, this'll work out... wait, what? I failed the proficiency test? I don't have the job after all? Well, um... my plan worked! My plan to waste my own time without inconveniencing you at all has worked like gangbusters!!!! I'm not gonna plant my independent lips on your corporate earlobe! NO THANKS, SOCIETY!!!!


The Crane Reclines


The crane stretches from stem to stern.

In a totally awesome fashion, it starts smoking a cigarette in a New Jersey diner like it don't care or nothin'.

But it totally does care, because it just separated from its crane partner and is feeling blue.

Won't someone take this crane out on the town and maybe make out with it a little? Maybe make it pancakes in the morning? Just a thought.

The crane finishes its orange juice and pays the check. It then flies away and runs straight into an aircraft carrier. Look at what you did to the crane!



Special Sauce

I have a special sauce. It is very special, that's right! What is it made of, you ask? Oh, what a question! It is composed of equal parts:

Tears- the tears of a clown that no one understands, who just wants to be loved. A clown named ME.

Additional tears- these are different from the previous tears because they're the angry kind. The angry, sad clown. So angry. So sad. A little sleepy. Could go for some tacquitos or something.

Confusion- Where to go? Where to turn? Why am I so alone? Why aren't the beef tacquitos at 7-11 ready yet? Why don't they have them on constant rotation? Did no one think of this? I'm so confused!

Butter- to taste.

LISTALINO: Great Blues Guitarists

1) Stevie Ray Vaughn

2) Bobby Lee Bigger

3) Shitty Bob Boomer

4) Droopy Don Dongdaloo

5) Silly Shawn Johnron

6) Eddie "I'll Get The Money To You On Thursday I Swear" Jackson

7) Vera "Mm It is Hot Today I Think I'll Get A Slurpee" Dupree

8) Jackie "Sudoku Queen" Lachine

9) Joey "I Lost All My Spoons In Strange Areas" Carias

10) Guy With a Ponytail and Bolo Tie Whose Name I Forget, I Think His Hair Was Slicked Back

LISTAROONI: Ten Failed 80's Sitcoms

1) Just the Ten of Us In This Poorly Ventilated Warehouse That Is Filling With Carbon Monoxide


2) Let's Kill Our Parents and Flee to Dayton, Ohio


3) The Three Orphaned Children I "Adopted" Are Kept In a Cage So They Won't Escape


4) The Phil Shitt Variety Disaster


5) A Lengthy and Unconvincing Argument In Favor of Reaganomics With No Jokes


6) Carroll O'Connor Plays Atari For a Half-Hour


7) The Guy Who Says "Time to Make the Donuts" In the Dunkin' Donuts Commercial Accidentally Swallows Some Laundry Detergent and Tries to Induce Vomiting


8) Old Ladies Watch Breakdancing While Saying Things Like "Gosh, I Just Don't Know"


9) Babies Wearing Headbands Falling Headfirst Into Vats of Chicken Gravy


10) An Entire Half Hour of That Shitty Dire Straits "Money For Nothing" Animation

LISTICLE: 10 Things No One Should Say Anymore

1) FTW/For the Win

2) Pwned/Noob

3) Totes

4) Dumbass

5) Rad

6) Stop Creamin' My Corn!

7) Ah I'm A Fwee Yeaw Old Businessman And I'm Too Young to Wun a Company!!!!

8) Stop Fugglin' the Crossbow, I Mean What Are You, Some Kinda Spalding Gray Impersonator???

9) My Daddy Taught Me How to Hate... Steely Dan

10) (Loud, Aggravated Breathing During Your Cousin's Funeral)

My New Cover Letter!!!!!!

Darren "Sweetpea" Springer
Address: Wherever elderly Shriners write fashion blogs
Phone #: Y'all would not understand!!!

To whom it may concern,

Look, I needs job. I got a lotta hair to support, and without sufficient moneys this stuff is gonna run away from me and hang out on top of a bald man with a Camaro whose kneecaps are supple and moist! This would be DEVASTATING and would affect many facets of life as we know it, including the Irish economy somehow (I have charts I could show you but I do not understand them). So: hair. There is hairs right on top of my head, which would be helpful for any office job that requires finding nurturing locations for local squirrels to rest or give birth. My hair can also be used to increase or restore office morale, especially on a Monday morning. Employees can be given five-minute windows in which to touch or smell my hair as incentives to work harder and faster. They can also store important office supplies in my supple bushel of flaxen locks, including staplers, paper clips, and unruly clients. In short, hair is helpful and smells nice, which you need in today's fast-paced business thing.

Also, I think my time spent as a high-end "gourmet" dishrag is going to come in pretty handy if you ever have any spills to clean up, or if you just want to scream into me the kind of things you could never say to your emotionally distant stranger of a spouse! I can be used on virtually any surface, and I can be wrung out simply by throwing me repeatedly against a wall until I dry up on the inside. You can then place me on the sink or in a bucket, which speaks to my versatility and ability to adapt quickly to new challenges and sinks. Put me on your team and you can be sure that I will get wet and covered in food particles, just like the time I spent as a student teacher!

Finally, my main selling point is definitely the fact that if you leave me in a room that is any degree above room temperature, I will overheat and became absolutely scalding to the touch. This is because the fan that was installed inside me at the factory does not function as it should; I have allowed too much Cheeto dust and motor oil to build up and impede its revolutions. In any case, be sure not to place me against your knees or upper thighs, or else your entire lower half will begin to look and talk like Wilford Brimley. This is important in any job these days because hard work.

I think I will be a real asset to your company you idiot. Shut up.

Sincerely,
Mr. Cool

LISTICLE: Jobs That Don't Exist Anymore in This Economy

1) Dandruff Conversationalist

2) Speed Demon Trainer

3) Professional Roue

4) Jacob Two-Two

5) Hooded Fang

6) Microphone Fiend

7) Low-Hanging Fruit

8) Absolute Goddamn Ridiculous Idiot Boy

9) Celebrity Head Soaker

10) Film Critic

My New TV Show!!!!

Big news, gang: I've written a television pilot that I'm currently shopping around to all of the major networks, including CBC, CTV and Global, as well as some smaller "niche" channels such as Home and Garden Television and Bank Security Camera Footage of Your Cousin Telling a Boring Story About Hooking Up at Burning Man. It's a corker!!! Why don't I give you a little outline of this gem, huh?

The name of the show is The Czech Is In the Male. It stars Paulina Porizkova and Reginald VelJohnson  of Family Matters fame. Mr. VelJohnson plays a Milwaukee postal worker with a heart of gold and an elbow of gold and several other body parts made of a very itchy synthetic microfibre. Ms. Porizkova, meanwhile, plays a Polish homicide detective who, just before she can arrest Krakow's most notorious serial killer, has a curse placed on her by the killer that shrinks her to the size of a kernel of corn. She manages to wander into a nearby butcher shop and find refuge inside a Polish sausage that is eventually shipped to America. The sausage finds its way onto the plate, and into the stomach, of... you guessed it... Don Henley. Oops, sorry, I mean Reginald VelJohnson. (I was thinking of Don Henley because he plays Joe Walsh in the second episode... I hope!)

Ms. Porizkova soon discovers that she can communicate with Mr. VelJohnson by screaming into his small intestine, through which the sound carries into his ear canal. Ms. Porizkova eventually convinces Mr. VelJohnson to fly to Krakow and track down the serial killer in question, and after many hilarious depictions of a Polish/American culture clash (for instance, Mr. VelJohnson tips 15% in a Polish restaurant, while Polish custom typically demands that the customer cut off their tongue), VelJohnson and Porizkova track down the killer and bring him to justice. At the end of the pilot, Porizkova decides to stay inside VelJohnson and help him solve murders back in Milwaukee.

The rest of the series, as I've imagined it, will have plenty of special "event" episodes. Certainly, there will be at least one episode where the two will change places, with Reginald VelJohnson going inside Paulina Porizkova's stomach. Also, I think one of the episodes will just be an hour of me sitting outside a Toys R' Us drinking whiskey from a flask and asking myself why I thought this was a good idea for a show. I also see plenty of merchandising opportunities for this series, including lunch boxes, birth certificates, hypodermic needles, and an accountant in Topeka, Kansas whose bitter divorce we plan on sponsoring. Anyway, look forward to watching us next fall, unless I decide to push my other pilot, Detective Fancy Man Forgot to Wear Pants So Now He's Getting Kicked Out of the Swiss Chalet.

LISTICLE: Ten Unsung 70's Soft-Rock Hits

1) "Baby Girl, I Want My Moustache Back, Or Else I'll Look Like An Idiot In My Class-1 Trucker's License Photo"

2) "Hey, Sorry to Bother You, But Did You Get a Chance To Think About Making It With Me At Some Point? No? Cool, No Hurry. Actually, While I'm Here, I Might As Well Get Two Glazed, One Boston Cream, and One Bear Claw"

3) "Probably Gonna Hit That Highway and Head On Up the Coast. Oh, Who Am I Kidding? I'm An Agoraphobe And I Totalled My Mom's Maroon Olds Last Week. Ooh, Rockford Files Is On Tonight!"

4) "A Horse With No Name, A Goldfish With Three Names, A Cat That Has a Hyphenated Last Name Because She Took Her Husband's Name But Kept Her Own, A Cow With a Nickname, And A Rabbit With Only One Name. I Think That's Just About Everyone Who's RSVP'ed To The Wedding So Far"

5) "Plaintive, Limp Folk-Mewling To Play In The Background After Your Key Party As You Desperately And Tearfully Climb On Top Of Your Neighbor's Wife"

6) "The Smooth, Languid Sound of Someone Shrugging As The Ideals of the 60's Die A Pitiful Gasping Death In A Suburban Supermarket"

7) "I Wanna Be With You Girl, And I Want You To Think I'm Sensitive Because Of This Chin Beard, But I Still Pretty Much Want To Control You And I'll Get Super Upset If You Point That Out, Is That Cool?"

8) "A List of California State Highways I've Never Seen, And Some of Which Don't Actually Exist"

9) "Just Slow It Down, Relax, and Go To Sleep, Because We're All Screwed Anyway So What Difference Can You Make?"

10) "The Last Thing You'll Hear Before Drowning In Your Waterbed After Falling Asleep With a Lit Cigarette"