Tuesday, July 31, 2007

Your Girlfriend’s Band Just Hit It Big Day!

Your girlfriend’s band HOT SEXY MUSIC PLAYING is becoming huge with their new single NAUGHTY DANCEY SONG ABOUT TITS sweeping the nation like a bunch of fast eagles trying to get from one end of the nation to the other and then back again. You’d better find out whether she still wants you in her life or not.

“Honey,” you’ll say through her dressing room door. There’s a star on it. “Everything okay between us?”

Her manager will tell you through the door that you and your girlfriend are broken up, and that they had you barred from the building where she gets dressed, so you’re officially trespassing.

“The police are on their way and they’ll shoot you on sight,” he’ll say.

“But I don’t have any weapons. I haven’t done anything,” you’ll argue.

“The police love NAUGHTY DANCEY SONG ABOUT TITS,” he’ll say. “And they’ll do anything to insure that HOT SEXY MUSIC PLAYING releases more awesome music. Sorry but that’s rock and roll.”

You’ll feel two gunshots to your back. The police must have snuck up from behind and started shooting.

“You’d better not get any blood on that dressing room door,” your girlfriend’s manager will say through the door. As you die, you’ll do your best to wipe the door clean of your blood with your sleeve, but the blood will just smear. You’ll die hoping that if you can get that blood off the door, maybe your girlfriend will get back together with you for the last few seconds of your life, but watching that blood smear you’ll know that it’s not going to work out and you are going to die single.

Happy Your Girlfriend’s Band Just Hit It Big Day!

Monday, July 30, 2007

The Saga Of Worthless Wilma Day!

When Worthless Wilma was eleven years old, she walked past a well and heard a little girl screaming for help from the bottom. Instead of going to find an adult who might help, Worthless Wilma went to the creek to look at crayfish. That little girl died at the bottom of the well. Ever since then, she’s been known to everyone as Worthless Wilma.

Today Worthless Wilma turns thirty-four. She’s spent her whole life trying to shed her nickname “Worthless,” but it seems that anytime anyone might count on her she ends up wandering off to go and waste time doing something of no value whatsoever (walking through a public garden, entering a Sun Chips eating competition, attending the test screening of “Who’s Your Caddy” and marking the questionnaire with 3’s all the way down). But today she’s going to change all that.

Today, on her way to her birthday party, she’s going to see a car by the side of the road with a flat tire. A man and a woman will be standing by the car. Worthless Wilma will pull over, and they’ll ask her for a lift. “I can’t risk being delayed,” she’ll say. “But when I get to where I’m going, I’ll phone for help for you.” They’ll thank Worthless Wilma very much.

On the drive to her party, Worthless Wilma will practically chant to herself to strengthen her resolve to follow through on what she promised those stranded motorists. “Must. Call. Tow Truck. Must. Finally. Help Someone!” Once she gets to the restaurant, she’ll rush her hellos to everyone, telling each person, “I can’t greet you for very long as I have to call a tow truck for some stranded motorists.” She’ll fill only a very small plate from the order of nachos in the center of the table. She’ll drink only one margarita, making sure to order her second so that it’s on the way, and then she’ll say to the waiter, “Sir I need to use your phone if I may!”

The waiter will shake his head no and he’ll suggest that Worthless Wilma use her cell phone, or the cell phone of one of her sixteen dinner companions. Worthless Wilma will be shaken by the wrench thrown into her plans and she’ll wait for her second margarita to arrive so that she’ll have something to drink while she considers what to do. To help her mind relax, she’ll complete the child’s maze on her place-mat, and then she’ll ask her neighbor at the table what he does for a living (he’s a parking attendant). Finally, after much deliberation, just before the waiter returns with dessert menus, Worthless Wilma will announce to the table, “I need to call for help!”

She’ll dial information on her cell phone and ask for AAA. When they answer, she’ll hang up and begin playing Tetris on her phone. Realizing that she has not yet done enough, she’ll call back and tell AAA that there is a car with a flat tire someplace. When they ask where, she’ll name the city in which she lives. AAA will ask on which road she saw the car, and Worthless Wilma will shout, “Good God I am just one woman! Flesh and blood, and yet you seem to demand of me divinity!” Just then a cake will arrive and everyone will sing Happy Birthday to Worthless Wilma.

On her ride home, she’ll keep an eye out for the car with the flat tire, but will see no stranded motorists. “Success,” she’ll think. “I helped somebody tonight,” she’ll think. “At age thirty-four, I have finally managed to be of use.” Proud of her accomplishment, Worthless Wilma will drive on home, and she’ll get out of her car and toss her cigarette onto the neighbor’s lawn, setting their rosebushes on fire.

Happy The Saga Of Worthless Wilma Day!

Friday, July 27, 2007

Shoot The Messenger Day!

Today you’re going to shoot a singing telegram in the stomach. He’ll be dressed like Shrek and he’ll be singing about how it’s okay being green because at least he’s not thirty-six (today’s your 36th birthday). You’ll claim that you were cleaning your gun and it went off, but you’ll be charged with second-degree murder anyway. Once you’re in jail, you’ll finally find out who sent the singing telegram. It was your ex-wife.

“I wanted to win you back,” she’ll tell you when she visits you. “I wanted to make you laugh again. And I know you love Shrek. He’s really funny.”

“Shrek sucks,” you’ll tell her. You’ll later regret being so candid when a transcript of this conversation is used against you in court. “The only good thing that will come out of this is that I got to watch that ogre die. You always gave me terrible presents, with no clue what I actually wanted. This is just like when you bought me that James Bond box set even though I hate James Bond movies. Now you’ve topped them all. You gave me a present that got me thrown in jail, maybe for decades.”

It will be for decades. Two and a half actually. The judge will be a Shrek fan and he’ll want to set an example in case anyone else out there is thinking of killing that lovable ogre. Your ex-wife will come to visit every week, and you’ll refuse her visit every time. When you finally get paroled in 2025, you and your ex-wife will be in your fifties. She’ll be waiting outside the gate when you’re released. You’ll let her drive you to her place since you have nowhere else to go. As a welcome back present, she’ll give you an action figure of a Moose in a tuxedo. Later you’ll find out his name is Murray Moose, and he’s the star of an animated movie that swept the nation the year prior. When you watch the movie, you’ll think it blows, but you'll stick by your ex-wife anyway since it's either her or the halfway house.

Happy Shoot The Messenger Day!

Thursday, July 26, 2007

Cash In Your 401K Again Day!

Call Vanguard and ask the guy, “How much is in my 401K now?”

“602 dollars,” he’ll say.

“Sweet! I’m going to the shore this weekend. How fast can you get that to me?”

He’ll tell you about the penalties incurred by cashing in early, stuff you’ve all heard before. But then he’ll add that there’s a sixty dollar fee for getting a rush wire transfer of funds.

“Sixty bucks? So after the fees and the penalties, how much will I get?”

“206 dollars,” he’ll say.

“Kickass! Lemme have it.”

He’ll ask you how old you are and you’ll say fifty-one. He’ll ask if you have a retirement goal and you’ll say, “Yeah. It’s called ‘Dying Early.’ And if I use that 206 bucks right, I should be a whole lot closer to that goal after this weekend. Hoo baby do I have some fun lined up for me down in Cape May.”

He’ll ask you what you got planned and you’ll tell him and while you give him the details the Vanguard guy will just keep saying, “Wow, no kiddin’?!” By the end of the call, the Vanguard guy will start to think maybe you’re the one who’s got it all figured out, and all those billions of dollars under Vanguard management are the treasure chests of a bunch of Nervous Nellies who are scared to sleep with beach prostitutes because of the possibility of contracting some very minor and treatable diseases.

Happy Cash In Your 401K Again Day!

Wednesday, July 25, 2007

You Wore Out The Sex Scene On Your VHS Copy Of “An Officer And A Gentleman” Day!

You don’t like to have people over to your home anymore because at some point in the night your friends always start rooting through your expansive collection of VHS movies and it’s inevitable that one of them will come back to the living room shouting, “Hey Guys, he’s got 'An Officer And A Gentleman' here!"

Everyone else will note that they haven’t seen that movie in years, as it hasn’t been aired on cable or elsewhere since 1989. You’ll say that it’s not really as good as they remember, but they’ll ultimately take a vote and agree to pop it into the VCR. That’s when you’ll start to squirm.

They’ll all be enjoying the movie, the push-ups, the small-town gals looking for husbands, Lou Gossett Jr. But you’ll know what’s coming. You’ll know that when the sex scene between Richard Gere and Debra Winger begins, the picture is going to go fuzzy and warped, and then it will disappear completely.

At first they’ll complain: “Hey what gives? I thought VHS tapes were supposed to last forever.” Then they’ll try and fix it: “Maybe if we rewind?” Then they’ll start making accusations: “The picture is bad because [YOUR NAME] wore out the tape because [YOUR NAME] likes to jerk off to it and he has to rewind and replay over and over again because the scene isn’t very long!”

And then they will laugh.

“It’s true,” you’ll say, quieting their laughter. “I do use the sex scene from ‘An Officer And A Gentleman’ as erotica. It’s very graphic, yet very tender. And I have always dreamed of having a love like that between Richard Gere and Debra Winger. I dream of trying to achieve a better character, and of being wanted by a woman who’s having it hard and just wants a little bit of help.”

Now they’re crying. Not at you. The movie’s still on and they just found whatshisname hanged. They forgot what you said already, and all that’s left is for Richard Gere to carry Debra Winger through the factory. Let them watch alone. Go into your bedroom and pop in your VHS copy of “Coming Home” and rub one out while they’re finishing their movie in the living room. Make sure to listen for “Love Lift Us Up Where We Belong” so you can get out there to watch the end with them and say goodbye. You need to hide your VHS movie collection better. It says far too much about yourself and no one really wants to listen.

Happy You Wore Out The Sex Scene On Your VHS Copy Of “An Officer And A Gentleman” Day!

Tuesday, July 24, 2007

You Open Prisons Day!

Today, you’re the girl who goes out and finds new and interesting neighborhoods where you can open prisons. It’s a good job. You travel the country, scoping out the lay of the land and trying to find that special patch of America where the next big maximum security prison will make a home. Naturally, most of your fellow Americans are always quick with a friendly word.

“My baby’s father goes to prison a lot, on average he spends half the year there,” one woman will tell you when you meet her in a coffee shop. “So if we had a prison right here in town, I wouldn’t have to get fired from my job every time I go and visit him in one of those pens three states over anymore. I could just go over on a Saturday.”

“I could finally achieve my dream of selling fake baby drawings from a roadside table,” another man will tell you as you and he wait to check out at a Stop N’ Shop. “No need for such a thing in any old town. But on the road outside of a prison, when a parent visits his or her spouse but has forgotten to bring any of their baby’s drawings to show off, that’s where I come in. I just love to make fake baby drawings of birds flying out of bird cages that say Daddy on them.”

"The fear of escapees would cut down on folks picking up hitchhikers,” an anti-hitchhiking advocate will tell you. “That’s all I care about. ‘Make ‘em walk’ is our slogan. ‘They should’ve thought ahead and arranged transportation for themselves,’ is another slogan of ours that we don’t use all that much.”

Almost everybody will be for you and your prison coming to town and building over the public parks and recreation centers. Everybody except for the president of the local chapter of the “Our Town’s Just Fine The Way It Is Association.” He’ll be another in a long line of rabble-rousers who think it’s in his town’s best interest to send the convicts and their unlimited tax revenue elsewhere.

You know how to handle these opponents. You go to bed with them and let your opposing forces battle it out underneath the sheets, yielding some of the best sex any American can have outside of a jail cell. Just don’t fall in love again. That’s the tough part about being the girl who goes looking for places to open prisons. Trying not to fall in love with the good guy. He’s always just so dismissive of you and everything you stand for, you can’t help but hand him your heart.

Happy You Open Prisons Day!

Monday, July 23, 2007

Just Trying To Buy Some Stereo Components Day!

Today you need to buy some stereo components, including a tweeter, but there’s that little problem of you blowing the big game against Jefferson back you when you were a field goal kicker in high school.

The man who sells the items (called a “salesman” in the Circuit City industry) will approach you with a wide smile. Get it all out of the way.

“Before you begin your pitch, the answer is yes, my name is [YOUR NAME] and at only eighteen yards I blew the big field goal kick that could have finally buried those smug bastards at Jefferson back in 1990. But I had a lot on my mind. My father had been entered into a psychiatric hospital the night before. He was bipolar.”

The salesman, still smiling, will say, “Hey I knew I recognized you! Don’t you worry about all that crud. Your Daddy okay now?”

Shake your head no. The salesman will try to look sorry for you while still maintaining that big smile on his face. Then he’ll direct you to the components that you’re looking for. He’ll sell you on something slightly more expensive than you wanted, but he’ll make you believe that the price is worth it.

A week later, after many hours of listening, you’ll realize that these stereo components you purchased were not at all worth the higher price. You’ll call the Circuit City and ask for the salesman who helped you.

“I said I was sorry, dammit!” you’ll shout when he comes to the phone. “My father was ill. He’s gone now. Isn’t that enough for you people?”

“Most of those kids in those bleachers didn’t even have Daddies to give a damn about!” the salesman will shout back. “You walk into my store holding a big pile of excuses for ruining my high school spirit, well then you’ll walk out holding a big pile of overpriced, shit-ass components, including that tweeter which has been known to set some of the thicker carpeting on fire. Go Edgemont!”

Then he’ll hang up. And you’ll go back into your living room and listen to your shitty stereo system, accepting your punishment, and wondering why God had to go and make your Dad sick. Why your Dad?

Happy Just Trying To Buy Some Stereo Components Day!

Friday, July 20, 2007

Fall Down An Open Manhole (NOT IN A GAY WAY) Day!

Today while walking down the street you are going to fall down an open manhole and land twenty feet underground in a sewer. Your right leg will snap and twist up like a pretzel underneath you and the pain will be excruciating. You’ll scream up at the street but no one up there will be able to hear you. Someone down below will, though.

Three children will creep up out of the darkness, approaching you cautiously. A little boy and two little girls. They will be filthy, as if they’ve been down there for months.

“Hey,” you’ll say. “Oh thank God, you need to get help. I can’t move. I’m in so much pain.”

“We can’t go for help,” one of the little girls will say. “Our foster parents would find us. We can’t let them find us.”

“Please,” you’ll say. “If I’m down here for very long my leg will turn gangrenous and kill me.”

“We’re sorry that you fell,” the other little girl will say. “But we came down here on purpose to hide from our foster mother. She’s very evil. Show him.”

The little boy will lift his sleeve to show you a string of black scars that look like cigarette burns.

“See?” the second little girl will say. “If you’d ever been in foster care you’d understand why we must stay hidden in the sewers until we’re old enough and strong enough to fight our foster mother with a baseball bat. Now give us any food you have on you.”


The little boy will stomp on your broken leg, sending bolts of pain through your body. The two little girls will root through your backpack until they find a cheese sandwich.

“Again, we’re sorry,” the first little girl will say. Then they’ll move a few feet away and split up your cheese sandwich right in front of you. The boy will growl while he eats. He’ll sound like a raccoon. The last thing you think about before you pass out is if you ever get out of that sewer alive, you're going to do everything you can to add more oversight to the area's child services programs.

Happy Fall Down An Open Manhole (NOT IN A GAY WAY) Day!

Thursday, July 19, 2007

Lost In The Woods Day!

Today while hiking you’re going to get lost in the woods and you’ll meet the boy of your dreams who will also be completely lost.

“At least I found you,” he’ll say.

“A part of me never wants to be found,” you’ll tell him. Then he’ll look down and see your ring.

“Me too,” he’ll say. Then he’ll take his ring out of his pocket and slip it on his finger. He always takes it off when he goes hiking, in case he meets someone out in the woods. Pretty gross, but are you any better?

“Then let’s walk this way,” you’ll say with a wink as you lead him down a barely intelligible path. You’ll wander through the woods together for hours, pretending that here under cover of the trees the vows you made to your spouses can’t find you. But bears can and you’ll both be mauled to death by one because that’s what happens to cheaters. They get mauled by bears.

Happy Lost In The Woods Day!

Wednesday, July 18, 2007

If You Had A Million Dollars Day!

If you had a million dollars, today you would use some of it to bail your college-age son out of jail. He was arrested last night for vehicular manslaughter after running down a teenage girl while driving drunk. This is the first time he ever got arrested, or even a traffic citation for that matter. But witnesses say he apparently looked like he wanted to keep driving after he hit her. After the crash, a bystander ran and stood in front of your son’s car and put his hands on the hood to keep him from pulling away. One of the tires was flat too.

You’d bail him out, which would cost around $50,000. Then you might use the rest of that million dollars to hire a really good lawyer who could perhaps keep him out of jail. What he did was horrible and stupid and you agree with the laws that might put him behind bars. But you would do anything right now to make as much of it go away as you can. He’s your son, and you wanted him to finish college and then show you what kind of life he can make for himself. If you had a million dollars, maybe his whole life wouldn’t be already decided with one incredibly stupid mistake at age nineteen.

You have no idea what really happens in prison. If you had a million dollars, maybe your son wouldn’t have to find out for you. All you can think about now is whether, when you visit him, will you talk through those glass partitions? Or will you get to sit in one of those big open rooms with all the tables where women bring babies to show to their inmate fathers?

Happy If You Had A Million Dollars Day!

Tuesday, July 17, 2007

Your Girlfriend Is Asleep Outside Your Favorite Bar Day!

She’s asleep sitting up, her back against the doorframe and her head bent forward on her neck. The door occasionally shoves her aside when it opens wide enough, but she doesn’t stir from her slumber. The bartender kicked her out over and hour ago and sometime between getting off of her stool and stepping out the front door, she apparently got real tired. So she sat down on the sidewalk and fell asleep.

The only reason you’ll find her there is because it’s your favorite bar she’s sleeping outside of. You don’t own it, but when you two have a fight, that’s the bar where you go to drink alone until you’re drunk enough to have angry conversations with yourself. You didn’t know your girlfriend even knew about the place.

When you see her, you don’t try to wake her up right away. You first go inside and get the bartender to come out and take a look.

“She’s a regular, sure,” he’ll say. “She comes here almost as often as you. Can drink as much as you too.”

“She’s my girlfriend,” you’ll say.

“Well then, scoop her up,” the bartender says before going back inside.

You slap your girlfriend until her eyes flutter enough that you think she’s awake. You tell her that you were wrong to fight with her earlier about her wanting to get married, and now that you see she drinks alone at the same bar where you drink alone, and you both chose that bar completely independently of each other, you can’t see any better reason for the two of you to tie the knot.

On your knees, holding her limp head up on her neck, you’ll ask, “Will you marry me?”

Your girlfriend will throw up on your arms and she’ll call out the name of another guy. Then she’ll fall asleep. A dark stain will form on the crotch of her jeans.

“I’ll take that as an absolutely,” you’ll say. Then you’ll wipe your arms on a fire hydrant, fling your fiancĂ© over your shoulder and carry her home.

Happy Your Girlfriend Is Asleep Outside Your Favorite Bar Day!

Monday, July 16, 2007

All The Peeping Toms In The Whole Wide World Day!

At 8:25 PM EST, a warm wind will blow around the globe when all the Peeping Toms in the whole wide world peer out their windows through their telescopes, binoculars, and nightvision camcorder lenses, and they all at once let out a sigh of unparalleled boredom.

You’ll unbutton another button on your top when you feel the gust of hot breath hit your neck. You’ll assume it to be a hint of another sweltering day to come, but it’s just the Peeping Toms lamenting over just how dull other people’s private moments can be sometimes.

“Who do I have to blow to get someone to do something filthy in front of their goddamn bay windows?” a Peeping Tom will shout from his 33rd floor apartment, too high for anyone on the street to hear. That Peeping Tom (full name: Thomas Carter, distant cousin of the former US president) is a very angry Peeping Tom and he is prone to yelling when his peeping activities are for naught.

Most of the other Peeping Toms will let out their hot sighs and return to the inner rooms of their apartments and homes to find some other activity to pass the time. Thomas Kang, an Anaheim, CA Peeping Tom will sit at his desk, crank up the AC, and begin another fan letter to Eva Longoria. Tommy Wojohowicz, a Peeping Tom who has lived for the last twelve years in Warsaw, Poland, will go into his kitchen and fix himself a sandwich with sausage and pickles. And when Tom Brokaw (no relation), a twelve-year-old Peeping Tom who lives in New York City and hopes to one day become a television news anchor (seriously, no relation) finishes his long sad sigh, he’ll lay down on the bottom bunk and ask his nine-year-old brother (top bunk) why it is that nothing ever seems to be going in people’s houses during the summer.

“Everyone’s at camp?” his little brother will offer.

“Except for us,” young Tom Brokaw will respond. “I wish Dad didn’t get fired from his job.”

Then Tom Brokaw will pick up his binoculars again and see whether anyone is doing anything fun in any of the apartments across the way. He’ll note the flutter in the leaves in the trees as the sigh of the world’s Peeping Toms continues to sweep through the air. His blood will race when he spots what he thinks are boobs in the sixteenth floor window straight ahead, then he’ll focus his binoculars and realize it’s just some halogen lamps.

Happy All The Peeping Toms In The Whole Wide World Day!

Friday, July 06, 2007

You And Your Wife Only Communicate Via Spyware Histories Day!

You think your wife installed spyware on your computer (she has) so you are going to have to stop Googling her sister (her sister is one of those girls from the early days of Myspace who got a million friends because she wears glittery thong bikinis in all of her pictures) and start Googling things like “What do I do when I love my wife so much that I doubt I’ll ever be able to express my love adequately?” and “How do I make my wife even happier?” and “The opposite of looking at pictures of my wife’s sister.”

Not to be outdone, you should install spyware on your wife’s computer to keep her on the up and up. She’ll have already suspected that you’ll start monitoring her, so she’s going to stop Googling “Ways To Disappear Fast and Without a Trace” and, since you’re paying attention, she’ll start searching for things like “Ways to get my husband to be more considerate of my feelings” and “Ways to get my husband to agree to remodel the master bathroom” and “How do I tell my husband I know his spyware history is bullshit?”

It won’t be long before you and your wife are talking more than ever via your spyware histories. She’ll check your history one morning and find nothing but “Why do spouses resort to passive aggressive behavior?” and “Undermining wives and how to deal with them” and she’ll realize that she really hurt you the night before when she made that joke in front of the neighbors about you being skipped over for your promotion. So you’ll later check her history and find, “Ways to tell your husband you’re sorry” and “Tips on expressing just how proud you are of your spouse.”

Your sex life will improve too. After a few weeks of communicating your wants and needs to each other through web searches, you’ll both be brave enough to Google the sort of kinks you are both into but were always too embarrassed to actually speak up about. When you each log onto the other’s spyware history and you each find the search terms “Founding + Fathers + Roleplay + Harness” lined up in the exact same order, it’ll be like a magician just lifted a curtain at a magic show to reveal the secret reason why you married each other, hidden away all this time.

Happy You And Your Wife Only Communicate Via Spyware Histories Day!

Thursday, July 05, 2007

You Weigh 800 Pounds Day!

You are an 800 pound person and you have a murder to solve. One of your three home health aides was stabbed in the back in his home, just a day after he asked you to hold onto a box for him. He shoved the box under the bed, left at the end of his shift, went home and got killed. Today you’re going to have another of your home health aides open up the box, and you’ll find a pile of birth certificates inside. It’s clear that your dead home health aide knew something about a black market baby trafficking ring, and you have to find out who decided he had to be eliminated.

The trouble is, you can’t get out of bed without the help of a intricate system of ropes. You also have to eat three whole chickens per lunchtime, which takes a good two hours. And most of your skin is red and tender, so you can’t dress in anything heavier than wet linen. But your home health aide trusted you. You can’t let his death be in vain. Take your gargantuan ass to the streets and find out who’s selling babies. Whoever it is, they are about to experience the burden of 800 pounds of justice.

You’re going to be gone for at least the whole morning, so pack a bag of meatballs.

Happy You Weigh 800 Pounds Day!

Tuesday, July 03, 2007

That Videotape Of You Taking A Shit On A Church Day!

That camcorder videotape of you when you were fourteen taking a shit on the front steps of your local Parish recently surfaced and is making the rounds on the internet. You’re wearing your King Diamond tee and making devil horns with your fingers while you squat, giggling. The kid holding the camera (Chad, presently employed as an unemployment insurance case worker) is cackling and yelping while he tries to hold the camera steady. Another kid with greasy long hair and a Slayer “Reign In Blood” tee occasionally runs into frame to spit loogies on you, but you can’t do anything because you’re still shitting. It’s already been viewed several million times, so everyone has seen you wipe yourself with your hand then carefully pull your pants up and trot out of the frame. So naturally, they want to know how long you went before you finally washed your hand. However, when you make your statement tonight withdrawing yourself from the race for city Comptroller, don’t give them any answers. It’s best to leave the tape with its enigmatic ending. Instead, tell them something true, something that’s in your heart since this is the last time you’ll have their attention.

Look into the camera and say, only: “Metal is not dead.” Then thank the people for their time.

Happy That Videotape Of You Taking A Shit On A Church Day!

Monday, July 02, 2007

Scrunch Up Your Nose Like You’re About To Cry Day!

Today, anytime you scrunch up your nose like you’re about to cry, anyone who witnesses it will take a knife and carve into their own bellies to let their insides fall out onto the sidewalk, they’ll be so distraught that they allowed such a pretty face to do what yours is doing. The world will decide that if they can’t keep a smile on your face, if this world is a world that can actually bring someone as adorable as you to the verge of tears, there’s no point in bothering with anything except the opening up of their bellies so that their innards can cascade down from their body cavities like so many rubbery wet Slinkies™.

Happy Scrunch Up Your Nose Like You’re About To Cry Day!