Important messages from Facebook

Facebook Ads prove RIF (reading is fundamental). I learned two important things today:

• Cats can't see shit.
• Dentists are nefarious.

I vouch for the verity of the above statements and I repeat them with impunity:

• Cats can't see shit.
  
• Dentists are nefarious.

Here is the evidence to support these claims. Judge for yourself.

Highly informational Facebook ads in question

I've always suspected that cats need glasses. This explains the irrational and totally unprovoked behavior of my dearly departed Muffin. Yes, as a child I did squeeze her (for science) and drag her around in my sleeping bag (for ease of transportation). Her violent outbursts never made any sense back then but now, yes. Maybe if Muffin had a good pair of hipster frames, we could have all just gotten along.

Look, I've written about cat-related shocking discoveries before. Cats are killers. This is common knowledge. Now we know they're also blind. . . with rage! 

Isn't it ironic that we have cat-eye frames and not a single feline has benefited personally? I should really start a foundation.

As for the evil doings of dentists, I'm shocked that they'd reveal their secret practices so brazenly in this ad. Take a long look at that stock lady. Where is she exactly? Heaven? A beach? On a longboat to China? Why is her hair so messy? Why is she wearing a white robe? Is she in the lockup?

Don't think I haven't picked up on the strange coincidence that my own dentist emailed me yesterday to make an appointment and today I was served this dentist ad.

In contrast, I'd like to share with you an example of advertising done exceptionally well.

Exhibit A: Excellent advertisement

Clear. Concise. Enticing to the unwashed masses. No mention of cats (jerks) or dentists (devils).

Hey man, not everyone can be as touched by the genius to craft such an excellent advertisement. Not everyone can repress the urge to share their dirty dirty doings (see dentists) That's a tough break.

Nevertheless, I urge you to pay attention to the messages that surround us. Especially on the highly educational Facebook.

Oscars snub won't go unnoticed.

What a week! First, Zsa Zsa loses part of her leg due to gangrene (ew) and now this blatant Oscars snub of the single best movie of 2010.

You know the one:

The most excellent and inspiring HOT TUB TIME MACHINE. This sleeper hit restored my faith in man. And hot tubs.

Up until I'd seen HTTM, I feared hot tubs. They're cesspools of bacteria, really. I've often remarked that a hot tub is like a human stew. I still stand by that statement but I will now also admit that hot tubs may have transportation powers, of which I am a fan.

Just take a long look at the stellar cast: John Cusack, Rob Cordry, Darrell from The Office and the only funny person on Last Comic Standing, beers, radio/tape deck, squirrel with cassette tape, and that pasty kid.

How can you beat this premise:

Four guy friends, all of them bored with their adult lives, travel back to their respective 80s heydays thanks to a time-bending hot tub.

You cannot.

I'm disappointed in you, Academy. This is a colossal fail on your part. Your nominations are wholly rejected.

Let's review this big fat waste of nomination space.

Best Picture:

• Black Swan (didn't see it / don't care)
• The Fighter (didn't see it / care 20%)
• Inception (saw it / fell asleep / didn't get it)
• The Kids Are All Right (points for Mark Ruffalo)
• The King's Speech (don't speak British)
• 127 Hours (how would Zsa Zsa feel?)
• The Social Network (livin' it, don't need to watch it)
• Toy Story 3 (Tom Hanks has enough.)
• True Grit (don't speak Western)
• Winter's Bone (pardon?)

To sum up, I've only seen two of the above movies but can wholeheartedly endorse HOT TUB TIME MACHINE as the clear winner.

Actress in a Leading Role:

• Annette Bening (not enough Mark Ruffalo)
• Nicole Kidman (no)
• Jennifer Lawrence (any relation to Martin Lawrence of the hilarious Martin?)
• Natalie Portman (peaked in The Professional, all downhill from there)
• Michelle Williams (you were okay in Dawson's Creek, I guess)

My vote is for squirrel with casette tape. Do you know how hard it is to get squirrels to follow through?

Actor in a Leading Role:

• Javier Bar. . . 

I'm bored with this. Who would argue with a three-way tie between John Cusack, Rob Cordry, and Darrell from The Office?

I'd like to start a campaign to force the Academy to include HOT TUB TIME MACHINE across all categories. From short film to makeup, costume design to cinematography, best picture to music (original song), visual effects to writing, foreign language film to sound mixing, a clean sweep.

Let's set this thing right. Do it for hot tubs and the right to participate in the human stew.

Do it for Darrell from The Office.

Do it for America.

Most of all, do it for Zsa Zsa.

 

Office Space

I put Heimlich to work this holiday weekend building out my top secret headquarters. You may be surprised to learn I haven't worked out of a proper office all this time. Brilliance doesn't need your inboxes or vertical file folders or cork boards or ELFA shelving systems. These are distractions for the weak minded. I am super organized without your containers.

Heimlich is another story. Heimlich needs hobbies. Heimlich requires organizational constructs. (This is why he is my henchman, naturally, and not a full partner yet.)

So Heimlich measured, ordered, unpacked, drilled, and assembled — with wild abandon — my new top secret headquarters office space. I now have several shelves and bins and surfaces to fill, stuff, and cover with my super awesome plans for 2011. It's an impressive organization system . . . for those of you that require assistance getting your shit together.

If there's one thing I reject it's clutter. I should really loan Heimlich out to that Hoarders show or Clean House. Never! Get your own Heimlich, you pack rats and magpies!

I'm a very busy super power. That is all for now. Get back to work, workers.

Holly Hobbie

It's come to my attention that it's a new year and that I may need a hobby. (Other than world domination, of course, which is much more a full-time, kick-ass job than a dalliance.)

Shit. A hobby? Boring people have hobbies to make themselves seem less, well, boring. People who have no friends have hobbies, ergo, to make friends with other friendless people. Sex-starved people have hobbies to meet other sex misters/mistresses and engage in totally unsexy activities. Why the hell do I need a hobby? And how am I going to save "the hobby" from its seriously unflattering reputation?

When I think of "the hobby," I recall my not-so-distant youth and a very awesome pink sleeping bag that depicted one Holly Hobbie. After two seconds of research, I've learned that Holly Hobbie was a real live person who named a fictional character after herself. Ego-tastic!

Anyway, Holly Hobbie -- the fake one -- was in a bunch of books with Toot and Puddle, her best friends. This is all very disturbing to me. It's undetermined whether Toot or Puddle were real live persons too. I suspect my creators forced this Hobbie character and her unsavory associates on me in an effort to make me appear "a real girl" instead of the budding genius I most definitely was.

I reject Holly Hobbie now and retroactively apply this rejection to my youth as well.

I don't need you, hobby. You are rude. I'm relieved that this 10 seconds of self-discovery has liberated me from the pedestrian notion that I need or want a hobby.

Happy New Year!

The Rage: Resurrected

You know how one day you're the handsomest person ever to walk the crummy planet and the next day you have a shiner? Yes, I know you have no idea about the former but imagine.

The rumors are true. I am in fact sporting a black eye and what now appears to be a green forehead. But really, if anyone can carry this off and still look this good, it's me.

To set the record straight, here is what happened.

On my usual canvass of the neighborhood, patrolling for unruly unwashed masses bunching around tree stumps, drinking moonshine and generally rabble rousing of a nature of which I reject, I was ambushed. Heimlich was picking daisies for a floral arrangement he's been working on so he didn't see the villain approach. It was a sneak attack of the sneakiest kind. The ground opened up in front of me and before I knew it, I was face forward. My precious blood was spilled. Heimlich was horrified and vomited on the spot. (He's very sensitive, as well as evil.)

That's really all I remember. The first night was rough as I moved in and out of THE RAGE. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw that ground and my perfectly contoured face meeting it.

The pain that followed was indescribable. I feared for my very large and powerful brain. Luckily my crack team of medical experts helicoptered me immediately to the top secret medical facility which I will not name, for testing. After CAT scans of my very large and powerful brain, it was concluded that my head was in fact too hard to penetrate and my very large and powerful brain was in tact. This was good news all around. I can assure you I would have continued world domination even with a brain injury.

Which brings me to today. Four days since my attack, I can report that I am nearly pain free, save for blowing my nose which is exceptionally excruciating and disappointing since it's one of my favorite activities. Fear not, my attacker will pay for this brazen act of insubordination. In due time. When you least expect it, ground, you will pay.

Never underestimate THE RAGE.

I've been busy

You know how one day you're the mayor, and four days later some punk usurps your post? Who am I kidding? You have no idea what it's like to hold a position of authority.

Let me paint a picture.

I became Mayor of a local high-class establishment through the popular Foursquare. I have resisted these ridiculous social sucks on my time until I found out Mayorship was at stake. How can Foursquare hand out important titles to the unwashed masses with such abandon? It's irresponsible.

Nevertheless I engaged in your reindeer games and naturally assumed my Mayorship in no time. My chest puffed with pride. Drinks were raised in my honor. Immediately my giant brain began to consider the possibilities of world domination via Mayorships. It's a little small scale for my taste, tres medieval these Mayorships but I was down with the concept of being in charge and other people knowing full well that I am the boss.

Speaking of which, I decided that Boss should be the next level up from Mayor. I will write Foursquare later with this brilliant idea.

Back to my Mayorship. I didn't take my superior position lightly. After celebrating with my minions, I raced home to devise a plan. World domination requires premeditation. It's true I was sequestered for some days working feverishly on the rights and obligations of the unwashed masses in my kingdom (to be honest, the rights were none but obligations many--as it should be).

Four days later, I emerged from my top secret headquarters with my Mayoral Manifesto. It is too brilliant to lay on your tiny brains and a summation won't do my genius justice.

And so, I checked in on my kingdom, elated at the prospect of creating order out of what clearly was human chaos. Rules, people, rules are made by me for you to follow. But lo and behold some villain has usurped my Mayorship! Andrew K. from Brooklyn! Scoundrel! Bastard! Son of a whore! (I realize those last two are similar.) You fool, do you have any idea what my tyrannical mind is capable of? Find your friends, indeed. Oh, I'll find you, Andrew K. from Brooklyn.

Needless to say, I was pissed. I've drafted several letters to Foursquare demanding a recount. Andrew K. from Brooklyn? Give me a break. Listen you little Ross Perot upstart, I will crush you with the ferocity of my tiny fists. Unleash the hellhounds!

Nice work, Foursquare. I've been peaceful for months and now this. The Rage.

Merry Christmas.

Dear NPR, I want to work for you.

All this unemployment, nee freelancing, has forced me to look inward and ask the tough questions.

"What are you doing with your life?"

Although I'd like to scream "Shut up, innards!" and punch them in the proverbial face, my mind, as you can imagine, cannot be silenced.

An aside on me punching anyone in the face. I have tremendous strength in my tiny fists, make no mistake. I discovered this hidden talent over the weekend when I inadvertently punched myself in the left eye. I was using my superior strength to lift a very heavy box of OXY CLEAN when the damn plastic handle broke and my fist went flying into my left eye. Damn, Penny!

Back to my powerful mind. It never shuts up with its "suggestions" and "recommendations" and "judging." What a jerk. Let me just panhandle like God intended. But no, my mind keeps asking "What do you really want to do? Where do you really want to work?"

So here's my TOP PLACES I'D LIKE TO WORK IF FORCED TO MAKE A DECISION ON WHERE TO WORK AND WHAT TO DO WITH MY LIFE. (in no particular order)

-- NPR. Does this really need explanation? Have you seen the Jerome L. Greene Space, listened to Story Corps or This American Life, or coveted Carl Kessel on your home answering maching?

-- Four and Twenty Blackbirds bakery. They make the delicious pies and cookies and rhubarb muffins. I don't really want to get up at 4 a.m. to help them bake but I'd gladly be a taster.

-- Attache to billionaire. I'd help you decide which restaurants to go to, shows to attend, vacation spots to hit, etc. You would never look me directly in the face or address me without "Dear Shiny Penny, may I please..."

-- Anonymous lottery winner.

-- Reader of Classics, New and Old. I've always said I'd like to be paid to read. That would be the extent of my duties. I would decide what to read and when.

-- Theater Critic. I love the theater. I also love my opinion of the theater.

-- Oyster Shucker. As long as I get to eat 50% of oysters shucked.


I'm tired of this assignment already. I've made enough important decisions for today and it's only 10:30 am. Yeah, you have to get up early to dominate. That's how I do.

Freelancers have feelings, too.

Myth: Freelancers have more fun.
Myth: Freelancers have no feelings.
Myth: Freelancers are so carefree and happy.
Myth: Freelancers will work around the clock.
Myth: Freelancers don't care about money.

I'm taking the time out of my whimsical freelance life to bust these myths once and for all. Everyone is under the delusion that freelancing frees you up to do all these great things. Go to museums! Sleep till noon! Party all night! Explore the city! Have sex with strangers! You've been misled and miserably misinformed.

Let me break down freelancing for you. It's really akin to panhandling with your "skill set" in that frying pan. Hell, a thousand people will walk by you and completely ignore your pleas for "Change, sir?" A few will stop to gawk, point, and laugh. Everyone will judge. It's generally an awesome feeling to lay yourself open to all this constructive yet uninvited feedback. But hey, who cares? Freelancers don't have any feelings.

Most freelancers I know are cranky. Myself included. And contrary to popular belief, we are shut-ins. You must not look away from your computer. We receive these secret messages throughout the day. Coffee shops are not an option. Those are for the seriously committed unemployed and unwashed masses. I prefer to contain my unwashed-ness to my own super headquarters. Plus, you need to be at the ready for whenever that client calls, no matter what time. "It's an emergency! I need you to blah blah blah by Monday." Oh, okay, I'll work this weekend because I have no life. Geez, I forgot. You're a jerk.

When we do complete your ridiculous job, please remember to pay us. There's nothing "free" about freelancing. No one is giving me free food or free beer or free rent. I still have to pay for all these things and you have to pay me. Waiting a month, two months, three months, four months, five months to get around to looking at my invoice is not acceptable. In fact, such actions will unleash the demons upon you and I will not be sorry. I will yell at you. You do not want this.

As you might have guessed by this point, freelancing is not the answer to your prayers. Keep your full-time job, you lucky bastard. And buy me a goddamn beer.

The Anti End-of-Year, nay, End-of-Decade List

Yeah, so 2009 is finally kicking it to the curb. Lots of folks like to take this time to reflect on the "Best of" this and the "Worst of" that and the "Sexiest" blah blah blah.

Yawn.

Clearly, this is an abuse of the very useful and very awesome when-in-my-capable-hands list. Yes, I like lists. I like making lists. I like crossing shit off lists. Is there really anything better?

NO, THERE IS NOT.

So now I have to contend with all these clowns and apes and flunkenheimers making a name for themselves through their original lists of shit we already know about. How about I take you out to a fancy dinner one night and we order some delicious foods. Then later I'll take you home in an equally fancy car and vomit that same fancy dinner all over you so you'll remember how special our night together was? Sound good? That's what these makeshift lists are like to me. Vomitrocious.

It's the end of the year. Big deal. Did you really accomplish anything worthwhile in 2009?

No, you did not.

Are you really going to stick to any of the vapid resolutions you'll set for yourself in 2010?

Lose weight! Grow hair! Give/get more BJs!

Nah, it's all for naught. Do yourself a favor and don't bother with the list. Or better yet, let's make a list of all the things that shouldn't be in a list form.

THINGS THAT SHOULD NOT BE IN A LIST FORM AT THE END OF THE YEAR, NAY THE DECADE

-- The outfits of Lady Gaga.

-- The outbursts of Alec Baldwin.

-- The most famous bald men of the 2000s.

-- The members in good standing of the International Dutch Oven Society.

-- Anyone claiming or deemed to be in "high" society, unless truly high in the best sense of the word during the actual making of this list.

-- A master list of all lists.

-- The listless. They're just not all that interesting, especially all bunched together.

-- The best movies/songs/books/products/scandals/TV shows, etc. Get a journal to indulge your sad sack of a self. Or better yet, take some Gingko Biloba so you'll remember all this inane crap.

-- Friends. A list of friends is always a bad idea. As is, a list of lovers. A list of enemies, now that's genius. And approved. Go write down your list of enemies now.

You get the idea. List making should not be taken lightly or taken at all in novice hands. Lists are intended for those of superior intelligence like myself. God only knows how you'd junk up everything with your lists of Favorite Breed of Puppy or Best Ice Cream Flavor Ever.

That's all I'm going to say this year. And you better take heed. If I find your ridiculous list on the InterWeb, I will take necessary Bruce Lee-like action to kick your list in the lady/dewd box.

Here's to world domination in 2010!

Thank you for your Xmas cards!

You know how fuzzy your tummy feels when you open the mailbox to see it crammed full of cards addressed to YOU? That's what the holidays are for really. Fuzzy tummies and mail.

You can't go wrong with an actual Xmas/Kwanzaa/Chanukah/New Year's card. The kind you buy at a stationery store in a box with matching envelopes. The kind that require you know the physical locations of all its recipients. The kind that require postage, from the post office.

This may all seem like nonessential tedium to you. You're wrong, as usual First of all, acquiring the physical location of your so-called friends can never be underestimated as a clear advantage. When these so-called best buds turn on you -- and they will, my little fawn -- you'll know exactly where to send the Edible Arrangement. You know what I mean. If by chance, these turncoats haven't shown their true colors yet, what says "you're super only because of your close proximity to me" more than a Xmas/Kwanzaa/Chanukah/New Year's card.

Next. Common courtesy dictates that you return the favor when your "loved ones" send you a card. And yet, it's so surprising when you take a tally at the end of the holidays of the number of cards you sent compared to the number received. Appalling is what it is.

"Oh, I've been so busy stuffing my face with all the free chocolates/cookies/free shit at work that I didn't send out cards this year."

"I must have sent your card to that old address. Sorry."

"I'm on the dole, man."

"I reject the post office and its nefarious practices."

"I'm an atheist."

"Dewd, I haven't used a pen since the '80s."

If you've run into any of these excuses, feel free to stab that person in the thigh. It's just unacceptable. I demand that my box be full on this Xmas/Kwanzaa/Chanukah/New Year's with your heartfelt greetings for me.

Are you going to be a jerk in 2010 too?

Secrets to Interviewing

You missed me. I've been boarded up in my top secret headquarters working on my list of accomplishments. This is no small task. I'm already up to #45 and this is only for my three-month job at MovieFone. Sometimes it's a burden to be so accomplished.

As I was reflecting, I thought about how easy interviewing is for someone like me. Talking about myself has obviously never been a problem. Listening to me talk about myself is a gift and you're welcome in advance. I felt a twinge in my enormous heart for those less fortunate at the gift of gab and especially those less accomplished. So I give you this:

SUCCESSFUL INTERVIEWING TIPS FOR THE UNEMPLOYED, UNINTERESTING, AND UNACCOMPLISHED

1. When an interviewer asks what you've been up to since being given the boot, suppress your first instinct to respond thus: "I've been catching up on my stories via Hulu." Although this shows you're technologically advanced, it makes you sound like a lazy, bon bon eating slob. Instead try this: "I've been researching new technologies and media of which I'm very passionate and intellectually curious."

2. You know how gripping it is when a friend posts a weather-related status on Facebook? Yeah, that's what I'm saying. Do not resort to the "sure is hot out there." Talking about the weather is totally uncool and brands you as a total snooze. Remember, hiring manager are looking for the next party animal who'll do something super inappropriate at the Christmas party. Those are memories you can't put a high enough price on. Meterologists, you get a pass on this one, but think about how one-dimensional you sound when your small talk revolves around high pressure and humidity. Somebody pull the jerk alarm!

3. If you've taken part in any workplace violence, screaming matches with co-workers or big wigs, you should highlight these as your strengths. Tell them how you really twisted Bob's horns, pushed Sally's implode button, smacked (literally) that smug grin off that Gen Y'ers snot-nosed face. These examples reveal you're a go-getter, a ballbuster, a Chuck Norris-kind of tyrannical leader. You get results! Don't just tell that story either; if you have any physical proof -- video, scars -- show, show, show.

4. Remember the popular song "Pour some sugar on me"? This is your approach to winning the hiring manager's favor. Sugar! A heart-shaped box of chocolates is never a bad idea. If you're strapped for cash or unsure whether Terry is male or female, do not panic. There's truth in the old saying, "you can catch more flies with honey than vinegar." Give the hiring manager the once-over when you first meet. Make sure they notice that you're checking them out from head to toe. A nod and a wink can signal your approval, a thumbs up, high five, or the foolproof "Go on, girl/boy." Think of how starved for appreciation these HR people are. No one ever hugs HR. They should! If you've got the cajones, I encourage you to end your next interview with a long hug, maybe rub the back a little too. Guaranteed results.

5. Finally, this next tip should not be taken lightly. If you have weaknesses of any kind, don't even bother reading this one. Make sure you're sitting down when you do. The secret to interviewing success for the unemployed, uninteresting, and unaccomplished is . . .

THE FOG MACHINE


Huh? I know you're totally unimaginative so let me explain. Imagine the impact your first impression will make if you emerge from fog? Can you see it? Holy shit! I just got chills.

Let's say you're in the middle of the interview and the HR gal/guy throws a real curve ball your way. Before you start sweating like a hog in heat, flip that fog. A sense of confusion and euphoria will descend upon your interviewer. Once the fog has cleared, they will have completely forgotten the question just asked. You can transition by saying, "And that's really how I'd answer your question in a nutshell."

Here are some examples of how The Fog Machine positions you for greatness:

HR: What is your greatest strength?
YOU: Fog Machine.

HR: What is your greatest weakness?
YOU: Not enough fog.

HR: Can you tell me about your most colossal failure?
YOU: That I can still see and hear you through this awesome fog.

HR: Do you have any questions for me?
YOU: How much power do I have in my cube? You know, for the fog machine.

Do you have a firm grip on the power of the Fog Machine?

Go forth and conquer your next interview! Do it with pride. And lots and lots of delicious fog.

You're welcome.

Introducing Heimlich, plus observations from vacation-like places

I've been away, to far-off and distant islands. This was not vacation but rather field research. In and among the unwashed masses, observing, making important discoveries, getting disgusted with aforementioned unwashed masses, and generally being awesome while doing all of the above.

I should mention I have a new employee.

Meet Heimlich, my German henchman. He's really great. Heimlich likes not-too-long walks on the beach, The Sound of Music, turtlenecks, not sweating, and murder. Not necessarily in that order.

Heimlich's role was to keep me out of trouble and for the most part, success! Off the clock, I took Heimlich to the lighthouse but he got that crazy murderous look in his eye so we had to hightail it out of there before Heimlich ripped his shirt off and started busting heads with his muscles in an angry German henchman kind of way. Heimlich is prone to murder. He is also prone to spontaneous musical interludes. He's a real The Sound of Music buff. Funny, I know. A regular Captain Von Trapp with his Costco winter coat and sewed-on gold buttons and accapella bursts of sweet love songs. Heimlich is a complicated creature.

Whatever you do, do not give Heimlich a tomato. He was once in a band called COUNTER TOMATO. Let's just say it went rotten quickly. He may or may not be on the run as a result of that incident with tomatoes and bands called COUNTER TOMATO. He also may or may not have been portrayed in a recent episode of Law & Order: Criminal Intent.

Anyway, Heimlich took many notes for me. Most of them were about murder (Pay attention, Heimlich!) but I managed to find some of my genius in between his hangman drawings. Here are some important takeaways.

THINGS OBSERVED WHILST NOT ON VACATION BUT RATHER OBSERVING THE UNWASHED MASSES WHILE THEY VACATION AND GENERALLY LIE ABOUT DOING AND CONTRIBUTING NOTHING

-- You can't take the corn out of corn chips.

-- Traffic reports are very meta: "On the turnpike, everyone is where they should be."

-- Oysters are juicy. Bagels are juicy. Shrimp are also juicy. "Juicy" is a wonderful adjective that should be used only by me. Sweatpants that say juicy across the rearus endus are ridiculous and I reject them.

-- Long drives down beach roads at 25 mph in super cars that should only be driven at 125 mph are very frustrating.

-- Unwashed masses bunching around landmarks that really aren't landmarks can evoke rage in henchmen.

-- Just because you went to the beach and smell like beach doesn't mean you smell good or clean.

-- I am too super tan and toned for the beach. Seeing my super tan, Ginsu-knife abs makes the regular beach people feel badly about themselves.

-- If you need to diffuse a particularly tense climactic moment of great romantic consequence, try belching very loudly. Works 80% of the time, every time.

Are you still reading this? Why don't you get your own work-study program? I'm tired of you. Always take-take-take with you. It's like talking to a dog. (Boom!)

You're welcome.

Important Things Are Happening

You may have heard I was recently laid off from that company that does the laying off of super people. Too bad for them. Their super quotient has just plummeted.

Since the laying off of the super people, I've been doing important things in my secret headquarters. Making lists of important things and crossing that shit off when each mission is accomplished. The guy in the picture above has it all wrong. Layoffs don't wreck lives. He obviously has no imagination. Layoffs make life FUN and SURPRISING and HAPPY and IMPORTANT.

Here's a peek into the very important, fun, surprising, and happy things that are currently underway in my top secret location. Take note, guy in picture.

IMPORTANT THINGS HAPPENING WHILST LAYED OFF FROM THE COMPANY THAT LAYED ME OFF

-- Remember that Ginsu Knife infommercial? Those super sharp knives could cut through steel and cardboard and tomatoes! Yeah, that's what my abs will be doing when I'm done working out all the time whilst unemployed. They will totally cut you just by looking at them. I'm also bringing back the half shirt in order to show off my rock-hard, Ginsu-knife-like abs.

-- Doesn't it seem like all unemployed people have pets? Yes, they do. I've already started work on opening my heart to the animals. Kittens! Kittens are cute and furry and independent. But the problem with kittens is they require food and health insurance. Considering I'm on the dole, these kittens are becoming a real albatross around my neck. I'm pretty positive Cobra doesn't cover kittens. But like I said, I'm opening my heart to the animals and have researched making paper maiche kittens or maybe even origami kittens. This is a very good idea! And it's green! Watch as my old resume transforms into a spry kitten! The big ideas never stop over here.

-- Street work is also on the agenda. I think the man needs to know what's happening so I'll be canvassing the subway entrances between 8 and 9 a.m. on the workdays to let the workers know what's what. I'll be the one pointing and yelling "COG" at the Metrocard holders. Feel free to join the ranks.

-- You know what's really great about being laid off? You can enjoy a delicious beverage pretty much anytime of day. With other laid off people. And believe me, there are a lot of them. Take yesterday for instance. I enjoyed not one, but two delicious beverages out in the sunshine with a whole community of non-workers. I will admit my company seemed unwashed and unkempt and I am 100% anti-unwashed. I can guarantee I will continue to shower at least once a week whilst unemployed and enjoying delicious beverages.

-- The time has come to embrace change. I'm looking into changing my name into something catchy and memorable and preferably one word. I've pretty much decided my new name will be INCORPORATED. Yeah, did you shudder just then? I know! It's genius. I think INCORPORATED will leave an indelible impression on folks.

-- Lastly, world domination. With all this free time, this seems like a natural hobby for me to take on more seriously. I admit I was getting kind of lazy in the world domination arena. Sure, I let Kim Jong-il have his fun this summer but now I'm ready to rule in a full-time awesome capacity. Don't make me come over there, Kimmy.


Yeah, that's how it's gonna be around here now. Delicious beverages, world domination, paper maiche kittens, rock-hard abs. Shit. Why didn't I get laid off sooner?

Word.

Anti-nature

Is what you see here natural? No, it is not. This is photographic evidence of why I am anti-nature. Yes, this is my totally delicious and juicy leg. Try to stay focused.

This past weekend I escaped the secret headquarters on a fact-finding mission in the woods. I was off grid for several days. Your attempts to reach me proved futile. I said I was off grid.

While finding facts in a "park", I was viciously attacked by Nature. Jerk. I did not see this assault coming. The exact nature of the creature which feasted on my totally delicious and juicy leg is still under investigation. In a matter of minutes post-attack, my leg grew very very angry (as seen above). The tiny bite became a hockey puck-sized area that burned. Boy, did it burn. My attempts to soothe the area proved futile. I tried reasoning with my totally delicious but now inflamed leg. Stubborn!

There's no way I'm letting Nature take me down. I ain't going out like this, Nature.

It was rumored I might contract Lyme Disease from this bite. Thankfully those rumors are false. Several balms later, my leg has grown less angry but no less delicious.

In conclusion, Nature is hostile and rude. I am still delicious and juicy. I will be adding these important findings to my Anti-Nature file. I reject camping. (I threw that in for good measure.)

You're welcome.

Jiminy Cricket!

Thank you to Black Cab Sessions for introducing me to The Duckworth Lewis Method's concept album about cricket. In case you don't know, cricket is the national sport of England! The rules of the game are known as LAWS. How badass is that? There are all kinds of funny expressions associated with this wacky game of pitching, hitting, bowling, and general mayhem on the green. At first I thought it was a lot like baseball but au contraire mon frer.

Needless to say, I don't know a thing about cricket and frankly there's not much space in my gigantic brain for cricket. However, I took a listen to the Duckworth Lewis Method's concept album about cricket and now admittedly love the cricket. Or at least the concept of cricket. The DLM have a fancy website which you should check out on your own time. http://www.duckworthlewismethod.com


You should also watch this madcap video from Black Cab Sessions with aforementioned cricket lovers: http://www.blackcabsessions.com/sessions.php?id=1244633803


Cheerio!

Welcome to the past, North Korea

North Korea has aired its first TV commercial. And it's for beer! Welcome to the 21st century, North Korea. We have things called advertising here. Advertising helps sell products but considering your people are basically all starving, I'd venture to guess beer won't be much of a market mover.

Here's another tip. If you were gunning for that Cannes award, you'll have to open up your top-secret beer commercial to folks outside your top-secret country.

However, we at headquarters have learned the gist of the commercial goes something like this:

. . .showed a grinning Korean man with sweat on his face holding a glass of beer, with a caption that read, "Taedong River Beer is the pride of Pyongyang." The commercial said the beer relieves stress and improves health and longevity. It also showed images of a pub it said was in the capital of Pyongyang, filled with people drinking.

I can get on board with the claim that beer relieves stress but considering the gargantuan levels of stress one must suffer living in North Korea, I'm thinking this is pretty much bullshit. No wonder this dude is sweating! I'd be drinking my face off if I lived in North Korea and this was the first taste of the 21st century I'd ever experienced. Too bad I wouldn't be able to afford that delicious beer since I only make $1,065 A YEAR.

What a bunch of jerks.

Oh but thanks for adding that B12 to the delicious beer I can't afford. I'm so happy someone is looking after my health.

You are officially dead to me (again), North Korea.

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Thankfully I saw this guy shortly after learning about North Korea's foray into the present. Now I feel better. Fuck yeah, America! Where dudes can wear robot helmets and play the accordion on the streets and drink beer if they want.

The Winter of The Beard

This documentary was made for me. I am the target audience. I am convinced of this fact and I'd like to thank the filmmakers for thinking of me and my entertainment.

Unfortunately I will have to wait to see the documentary because it's not in theaters or it hasn't been distributed or bought or some kind of Entourage-type-filmy talk. I ask the Hollywood now to please pick up this film or whatever you need to do to distribute this sure-to-be-awesome documentary to a theater near me. Thank you very much. Do it now.

All I do know is the very brilliant filmmakers challenged these men to grow beards for six months and record their lives. No trimming was allowed! I love this type of extreme challenge and yes, I love beards. Very much.

Watch that trailer again. Maybe send the filmmakers a thank you note. That's what I intend to do.

Thank you beards. You make the world a better place.

I heart the musical.

See more funny videos and funny pictures at CollegeHumor.

You will watch this very funny parody of my all-time favorite musical "West Side Story". If you haven't seen the very popular movie of the same name with one Natalie Wood and one Rita Moreno, do yourself a huge favor and rent it. It defines awesome. In fact, I have watched this very same movie so many times that I could probably re-enact the entire thing with dance moves. Upon request of course. And cash money.

Anyway, the kids at CollegeHumor have made a highly entertaining takeoff on "West Side Story" based on popular websites like the Facebook, the Pandora, the YouTube, etc. I think the CollegeHumor kids should take me on board as a consultant for future ventures like this for several reasons.

1. I love musicals.
2. I love musicals.
3. I have an awesome sense of humor.
4. I am older, wiser, and definitely better looking than the CollegeHumor kids.
5. Because I can say shit like #4 and no one will contest its absolute absoluteness.
6. Again, I love musicals.
7, 8, 9, 10. You don't need anymore reason to benefit from a professional association with me.

So watch the video. Laugh. Laugh some more. Thank me for sharing it with you. Write me a thank you note even.

You're very welcome.

Keep it in your pants, dummy

What is it with these politicians and their extramarital affairs? South Carolina Governor Mark Sanford dropped a doozy of an extra-stupid, yearlong fling with his Argentinian girlfriend.

After he disappeared last week, his staff first said he was hiking on the Appalachian Trail. It later emerged he had travelled to Argentina to be with his lover, leaving his family over Father's Day weekend.

Really? What the f, Sanford? Did he really think he was so covert as to get away with this rendezvous? It’s just too much. And this clown sits on a high horse about family values? Wow.

It seems to be a trend with the government folks to drop trou whenever and with whomever. Remember the romps of Bill Clinton, Eliot Spitzer, Jim McGreevey and most recently John Ensign. Let me point out that these are not super attractive men. But they’re boning like a mofo. Bone Zone all up in this joint. Maybe part of government service is servicing the people in the naked way.

I’m kind of disgusted.

The media is all a buzz with whether or not Sanford will step down from his Governorship. If it wasn’t for the lying and the coercing his staff to lie for him and the passport requirement to have aforementioned boning, I might show some leniency. But big guy went through Customs to bone and on top of it, boned on Father’s Day. I’m pretty sure that makes you the absolute Worst Father Ever. They should make coffee mugs with that saying.

You know shit happens. People cheat. Those people generally suck. There are a very few exceptions when circumstances are extraordinary — or extraterrestrial — but usually you can count on the cheater being a total a-hole. And in any other industry, your job wouldn’t be threatened by you being a dick in your professional life. (If only that were true, considering there are so many dicks in the corporate and nonprofit world.) In Sanford’s case, his being a total dick could end his career. Do I feel badly for him? Nope. Do I feel badly for his wife? I did for a minute until she said she’d forgive him, in time. I’d say take a pass, lady. Just my opinion.

In conclusion, I’d like to offer this advice to those aspiring to political bigwig or talking head or dude who wears suit 99% of the time: Keep it zipped and locked, dummy.

You’re not welcome. But you never are, are you?

Again with the Japanese

Japan really knows how to get your attention. JWT (a fancy ad agency) in Japan just won a big fancy Cannes award for its Kit Kat campaign as pictured above. Apparently the translation of Kit Kat in Japanese is "surely win." Those agency wonks decided to create edible postcards that folks can send students as good luck wishes before their super rigorous entrance exams. Japan never does anything half assed.

I wish I was a student if only to receive one of these kick-ass Kit Kat Mails. What's inside that delicious box? A giant delicious Kit Kat with my name all over it.

I really think Nestle should introduce this campaign into the U.S. Only problem is our students here are not nearly as kick-ass smart or let's face it deserving of such a sweet piece of mail. Save for me. I would deserve this Kit Kat Mail. Me and the Japanese. Everyone else can go scratch.

Once again the Japanese impress with their crazy out-of-the-mailbox ingenuity. What will they think of next?