Archive for November, 2011


i didn’t want to be in your stupid will anyway, uncle lazlo

Let’s face it; the fact that you’re home right now watching judge shows means you likely fit into one of two categories. If you were injured in a car accident and need a tough, smart lawyer who will battle the greedy insurance companies for every last dollar you have coming, hang tight; their ad will be along shortly. Probably next, in fact. For the rest of you, though: pick up the phone right now- don’t waste another second! Call Mountain Stone Academy and take your first step to an exciting career in the profitable field of drug muling! If you own a beige or white four-door sedan with clean plates, and a nice golf shirt tucked into a pressed pair of chinos, then let our experts get you on the path to getting out from under those bills by calmly telling customs agents that you’re just coming back from a routine safety inspection of your company’s newly opened plant in Monterrey!

Now, I know what you’re thinking- “Hey, TV jerkface! I’ve been burned by commercials like this in the past!” Hey, here at Mountain Stone Academy, we’ve heard the story before; hell, we lived it! You went to trade school and found a great job, then your company broke your union and shipped your job overseas. You went to bartending school, but found yourself drinking the profits to comfort yourself after hearing the customers’ depressing stories, which really seem to have grown both in intensity and frequency the last six or seven years. And just when you thought you had found your golden ticket by graduating from that televangelist’s Apostle-Anointing Institute, a couple years ago you had to close up shop, having found it impossible to compete with Tea Party rallies for your flock’s attention and hard-earned donation dollars. But at Mountain Stone Academy, we’ve got the statistics to prove that this time will be different. You see, after being repeatedly boned by the traditional, “lawful” marketplace, more and more people just like you are giving a second look to today’s black market. Hey, if the government’s not gonna extend your unemployment benefits so they can afford to continue hemorrhaging money on an unwinnable drug war, shouldn’t you at least get a piece of the action?

Come on, where do you wanna be six months from now? Still sleeping on that couch? Or impressing your new bosses with your ability to throw off the dogs, having learned from our pros how to properly line your trunk with coffee grounds? Before long, you’ll be capitalizing on challenging advancement opportunities, and Mountain Stone Academy will be there with post-graduate classes to further your development as a smuggler, as you’ll need to undertake continually riskier jobs to keep proving your loyalty! Remember, you’re a lot more valuable, and therefore harder to kill, if our Hollywood makeup artists have trained you with the technique to make a busload of teenage sex slaves look like a group of senior citizens returning from their tour of Chichen Itza. So what are you waiting for? Call the number on your screen and open the door to your future with the newfound confidence and self-respect that can only come from mastery of coveted workplace skills such as staying cool under pressure, not freaking out, and keeping your fucking mouth shut, cabron.


novelty gallagher mullet mirror

First of all, I’d like to thank the fine folks at the Center for American Regression for hosting this fundraising dinner, but mostly I’d like to thank you, the outstanding Admiral’s Club-level donors that make up my core constituency. Every time I return here to my home district, I feel so grateful to be a six-time incumbent, because it means I no longer have to have to shake the germ-laden hands of our fair district’s many non-millionaires, thanks to my near universal name recognition.

While this event is not open to the press, I would like to take a minute to address the allegations made by my opponent in next year’s upcoming race. You know, folks, I wear a lot of hats in Washington: senior member of the ignorance committee, unofficial congressional liaison to the international underground human organ trade, fixture on the Sunday talk shows when they need someone to advocate against child labor laws. I take every one of these roles very seriously, as well as a few others: straight shooter, no-nonsense negotiator, common sense everyman. One thing I am not, however, is two goats stacked on top of each other, then somehow stuffed inside a Brooks Brothers suit.

See, what the elites don’t want you to know is that I’m up there fighting for our nation’s most productive citizens, who otherwise wouldn’t have a voice in Washington due to the time-consuming task of generating every bit of wealth that their shareholders are entitled to. So they focus on divisive distractions, like this loop of rope tied around my neck. Of course, they conveniently leave out details that don’t fit their pre-crafted narrative, like the fact that the end of this rope is chewed off, unlike the invisible rope around my opponent’s neck, which remains tightly tethered to special interest groups like the powerful solar energy lobby. And not even the strongest goat teeth can chew through that rope, friends.

We must be vigilant, as our cause is now under grave threat from forces determined to destroy everything we’ve worked for, using insidious tactics like a whisper campaign insinuating that the real Rep. Stonesworthy died of a massive cocaine overdose in a swank Georgetown hotel room hosting one of his quarterly hooker summits, and that his campaign decided the most practical replacement this close to election season was a couple of farm animals with a device cleverly planted on them to deliver prerecorded speeches while the top one licks peanut butter off the roof of his mouth to make it look like he’s talking. Once again, thanks for supporting our re-election campaign. Take this opportunity to do a little networking, and of course, feel free to order another $300 plate of veal parmigiana. I hear it’s delicious, but I filled up on tin cans during the limo ride over here.


we’re not going anywhere until you huff all that paint, son

Hello, is this Herb Djukanovic and Sons Heating and Air Conditioning Service? Well, Gary, for the purposes of this phone call, can it be? For fuck’s sake, we’ve gotta get this prank phone call rehearsed, recorded, edited, and mixed for a segment on tomorrow’s show and I have a meeting with my probation officer at 2 that I have to be on time to, so get with the goddamn program, because I gotta make sure this thing comes off as hilarious as I wrote it. Okay, dry run, take two. Oh come on, Gary, don’t look at the caller ID, just pick it up. Hello, is this Herb Djukanovic and Sons Heating and Air Conditioning Service? Well, one of your service technicians just left my house, and his professionalism left quite a bit to be desired. Gary, are you listening to me or looking at that swimsuit calendar from 1994? Come on, buddy, I need you here. Okay, we’ll pick up at “his professionalism left quite a bit to be desired.” Can you think of a better way to phrase that, Gary? Never mind, we’ll rewrite it before we do the real call. Okay, ask me what my complaint is. Because you’re helping me rehearse, Gary- where have you been this whole time? Okay, ahem, the guy knocked on our door, then without even getting his tools out or asking about our hot water heater, pulled out a knife and ordered all of us to the kitchen and made us get on our knees while he bound our hands behind our backs. Jesus, Buddha, and Allah, Gary- is this the time to be looking at that fucking delivery menu right now? I’m just getting to the good part, and you are fucking this up for both of us. Look, Gary, this may be a shitty job, but I need it. I’m upside down on my mortgage and that private detective Brenda hired finally tracked me down and is leaning on me for several years of back child support. Uh, chicken salad on wheat toast and a Doctor Brown’s Black Cherry, by the way. This is the place that puts grapes and walnuts in their chicken salad, right? So sophisticated! Okay, so getting back on track: once my hands were tied, he pressed the cold metal of his knife against my index finger, threatening to cut it off unless I told him where we kept our valuables. I tried hard not to tremble as I felt a single drop of blood roll down my finger and pool in the palm of my hand, then he suddenly changed his question. My wife’s eyes met mine, her image distorting as my tears amassed, and our captor demanded I name the artist on this track. Oh, fuck me, Gary. You were supposed to have cued up that clip of “Never Been Any Reason,” by Head East before we fucking started. Will you get your head in the game? Okay, forget it, let’s just call Waynelle’s Country Grocery again. But this is the last time, Gary; I think they’re starting to catch on.


my completely justified inferiority complex

Ahoy, fellow rum drinker!

Congratulations on your recent purchase of Barbary Coast Spiced Rum. Such a selection speaks to not only your discriminating taste, but your keen eye for bargains. The smooth, rich taste of Barbary Coast Spiced rum is perfect for any occasion, whether reuniting with estranged loved ones, forgetting your hopes and dreams in a bus depot, or out for a night on the town acting like an idiot with your stupid fucking friends.

We here at Barbary Coast Spiced Rum thank you for your patronage, knowing as we do how flavored rum’s popularity is at an all-time low, due to its association with all manner of unsavory characters. For example, Jimmy Buffett’s music is now inextricably linked in the public’s mind with traumatic memories of the time they accidentally found their dad’s Cialis prescription. Those television advertisements showing Captain Morgan’s escapades at sea imply quite a bit more consensual heterosexual assignations than is likely historically accurate. And while his connection to flavored rum is at best tenuous, the sheriff of Malibu routinely violates the taxpayers’ trust by abusing his unchallenged authority, indulging his legendary hatred of goldbrickers with his coffee mug. As a customer, you’ve gotta be pretty loyal to a product to brave that kind of social stigma, and we want to repay that devotion by providing a top-notch product. You see, at Barbary Coast Spiced Rum, we think of ourselves as more than just a front for an international heroin smuggling operation. We’re also the proud makers of a rum that starting March 2012, will be 30% less likely to make you go blind.

As you know, drinking the contents of this bottle will condemn you to lifelong membership in a tiny, marginalized segment of society. Indeed, it’s often been said that the last acceptable form of hate speech in this country is disparagement of spiced rum enthusiasts, which means we’ve gotta stick together. So log onto our website to receive special offers and learn about Barbary Coast Spiced Rum-sponsored events in your town, where you can meet other Barbary Coast Spiced Rum drinkers and get exclusive sneak previews of new Barbary Coast products, even before they’ve been tested on animals. While you’re at it, get to know our Barbary Coast Spiced Rum Sweethearts, whose flirtatious smiles will never betray their secret contempt for you, because they’re trained to enforce the shallow, juvenile view of women that is an essential part of the Barbary Coast Spiced Rum experience.

All right, we’ve kept you long enough. If this message goes on much longer, your hand will be shaking too hard to hold the paper, am I right? So grab those Shastas out of the freezer before the cans split, pour yourself a generous serving of Barbary Coast Spiced Rum into your kid’s Charlie Brown Thermos, and hide your boat keys. Because soon your English won’t be any more coherent than that of the eight year-old calligraphist writing this note in a sweatshop.


the boston straggler

Hey, Kyle, how’s the homework going? Remedial math, huh? Boy, that brings back some memories! Listen, why don’t you take a break for some ice cream- is strawberry okay? Ha, I knew that was your favorite! Hey, while I got you here, I’d like to talk to you about something. Ever since Benny brought you home last month and told us you needed a place to stay, Mrs. B and I have been glad to have you. While you’re in our house, we’re gonna love you like one of our own. But we do expect you to obey the same rules, and since you might be here for the long haul, it’s probably time to clarify a couple of those for you.

Sometimes in the mornings as I’m leaving for work, I can’t help but notice young ladies sneaking out of your bedroom window. Aside from the very serious health concerns raised by my not yet having seen the same girl twice, it’s probably not appropriate for you to be using our house for this kind of activity, especially on school nights. If you need me to leave the car unlocked in the garage, I can do that, but only on weekends. But for your information, I always know how many miles are on the odometer, so no funny business. Also, could you occasionally direct some spillover Benny’s way? Hearing your encounters with college girls and single moms you bring home from bars has been really tough for him, what with all the problems he’s had getting a date for the Homecoming dance.

Okay, now that that’s cleared up, there’s other thing I’d like to talk to you about. I’ve noticed my sock drawer hasn’t been as meticulously organized as I usually keep it. Without accusing you of anything, Kyle, I just want to tell you that you are welcome to anything in our house, but it’s very important that you ask first. You see, Mrs. B and I sometimes have things that we’d like to keep a private matter, and from your pale visage and inability to make eye contact, I can tell you’ve stumbled across one such item. And listen, I am really sorry you saw those photos. The practice Mrs. B and I were engaged in is called pegging, and I want to stress that it does not make you gay. In fact, lots of heterosexual couples do it, and there are a lot more of us out there than you think. Respectable people too; the online forum Mrs. B and I moderate gets regular contributions from several doctors, a city councilwoman, and numerous clergy. Sorry if I’m going on about this, but as you can tell, it’s a topic Mrs. B and I are really passionate about.

Okay, I’m glad we had this talk. I don’t want you to think we’re coming down too hard on you, especially after your previous home situation. You’re a terrific kid, and it says something that in three weeks, those are the only concerns we’ve had. For example, I’m really glad I don’t have to talk to about our rule regarding eating at least one green vegetable at dinner every night- keep up the good work!

November 2011