May 30, 2008

Brief Summaries and Morals of Every "ABC After School Special" I Can Almost Vaguely Remember

A haze falls over my television memory, and we only had three channels during my entire formative television years. (And those three channels were all uphill, in the snow, fifteen miles away, each way!)

Did I let that stop me? No! I fought on.

I must pass these treasured stories from one generation to the next. I don't care which generation, as long as it's being passed along. That's my point here. The fables and stories of our great culture must be preserved, even if only precariously - nay, half-assedly - so.

Here lies, for all to see, what might be the well-minted storylines and morals from that true repository of our societal guide posts: The ABC After School Special.

STORYLINE: A popular cheerleader discovers that the socially-awkward, homely girl in class is a real person with normal feelings and desires.
MORAL: Cheerleaders love having sex.

STORYLINE: A homely, timid boy overcomes his fear of the popular cheerleader and wins her heart by getting cancer and dying.
MORAL: Cheerleaders will have sex with you if you're dying.

STORYLINE: A popular cheerleader uncovers a satanic cult among some of her cheerleading peers.
MORAL: Cheerleaders usually won't have sex with you if you're covered in goat blood.

STORYLINE: A popular cheerleader discovers that the star distance runner on the track team still wets his bed.
MORAL: Cheerleaders like golden showers.

STORYLINE: A popular cheerleader gets a rare disease and dies courageously, inspiring a whole town.
MORAL: Make sure the rare disease isn't contagious before having sex with a courageous, dying cheerleader.

STORYLINE: A huge shark terrorizes a coastal village during tourist season.
MORAL: Killing huge sharks might impress cheerleaders, who might then have sex with you.

STORYLINE: A popular cheerleader confronts her classmate's drug problem courageously.
MORAL: Getting high is a great foot in the door when you're trying to have sex with a cheerleader.

STORYLINE: A popular cheerleader is paralyzed doing a courageous cheer, inspiring a coastal village.
MORAL: Sharks must die.

STORYLINE: A popular satanic shark wets his bed, spreading cancer among the cheerleading squad who paralyze a whole town with their inspiring drug abuse.
MORAL: Cheerleaders really love having sex.

May 29, 2008

I Went To "The Vagina Monologues," And All I Got Was This Lousy List

I respect the purpose of "The Vagina Monologues" and, as much as it creeped me out to have all those women talking with their vaginas, I felt the evening was empowering and sexy... emsexerising?

(An open question: How many years of ventriloquism and pelvic muscle training do most of the performers need to speak from their tunnel of love?)

Just wondering. My friend Shari probably knows. She says that she can actually breathe through her vagina, but maybe that's just when she's walking on her hands.

Despite this theatrical / linguistical / gynecological miracle, I do feel that "The Vagina Monologues" needs a little priming to maintain its edge.

Don't get me wrong here; I think it's great that we can provide a couple hours of stage time every year to a whole bunch of vaginas. I would hate for audiences to forget that vaginas are the single most important part of the female anatomy.

How tragic would our world be, for instance, if we forgot to acknowledge that every woman is a vagina? How cruel to demean women by paying attention to something other than her vagina! "The Vagina Monologues" remind us all that we must never ignore her vagina - preferably, her hot, wet, beautifully empowered vagina - not even for a second.

I walk that talk, too. I make it a point to commune directly with all vaginas, ignoring the messy, extraneous "other" bits, physical or not, that cobbles together the female - her hair, her eyes, her brain, her needs, her feelings.

"The Vagina Monologues" has taught me that all women prefer to be dealt with through their vaginas. Straight up. Respectfully. Man to man.

Nonetheless, as easy as it is for me, I recognize that some audience members may need newer, flashier features to maintain their interest.
Here are my suggestions for making sure the vaginas keep drawing them in year after year:

1. More vagina juggling

2. Trying to set a world record for the number of people that can fit in a vagina at one time

3. Vaginaoke: Sing along with top vagina hits

4. Vagina mixed martial arts fighting

5. Informational session on how to locate a vagina in an emergency

6. Cooking with vaginas

7. Funniest vagina competition

8. Relay races

9. Demonstrations of what should and should not be stored inside vaginas

10. Competent acting

11. Update on the push for a crucial national vagina database

12. The clean and jerk

13. A good old-fashioned sword fight

14. Vagina mimes - "Help! Help! I'm trapped in a furry, invisible box!"

15. Silly vagina masks

Knock Knock Jokes of the Very Angry

Knock. Knock.

Who's there?

It's me!

"It's me" who?

Open the fucking door now, assfuck! You know who the fuck this is! Face up to it, because I am going to beat you 'til you bleed from your mutherfuckin' ears! You open the door now, or just fuckin' sit there and wait for the beating to get worse with every fuckin' second that this fuckin' door stays locked. That me!


Knock. Knock.

Who's there?


"Damnit" who?

Damnit straight to hell, you miserable shit.


Knock. Knock.


"Hello"? What the fuck is that? "Hello"?! Do you even know how this game works? You say "Who's there?" Like that. Got it, genius?!


Knock. Knock.

Who is it?

Close enough, for you anyway.

"Close enough, for you anyway" who?

No... wha... the fuck you saying!? That was an aside, because you almost got your line right. That's all. It wasn't the line that you were supposed to respond to. I would be hard-fucking-pressed to come up with a pun that fit "close enough for you anyway", don't ya think?


Knock. Knock.

Who's there?

Hillary Clinton.

"Hillary Clinton" who?

Hillary Clinton.


Knock. Knock.

Who's there?

I'm going to shoot you.

"I'm going to shoot you" who?

I'm going to shoot you through this door right now.


Well, Change My Diaper, Knock Me Sideways and Call Yer Momma

I had no idea.

Apparently, this little internetty excursion of mine is one of the better blogs in the Twin Cities, at least according to the editors at The Minneapolis and St. Paul Magazine - or is it just Mpls St Paul Mag?

Anyway, back in January, 2008... (Remember January, 2008? Wasn't that a fun month, kids? Ahhh, yes. It sure was. It was like the start of a new year, a 20008-y sort of year. Remember 2008, kids? Do you?) MplsStPaulMg had this to say:

"A Play a Day & Lysteria: Brendon Etter has one of the liveliest minds in the blogosphere. For a while, the Carleton College employee really did write a very short play every day. Then he started compiling hilarious daily lists—"Indications That You Are Almost Certainly Disliked," "Evidence That My Computer Is Having an Affair" . . . . By the time you read this, he may be on to something else, but it will no doubt be worth reading."

Don't believe me? Then click this link: THIS LINK

I mean, you believe a link, right? Seriously, it's true. Links never lie. They're on the internet.

Their paragraph on me is near the bottom, which I take, not as an insult, but rather as evidence of this blog's foundational ability in supporting all those other pitiful attempts at web-based commentary included in the article.

Wait a second? How did they know I was a Carleton College employee? (squirms in his seat a bit) How powerful are these MSPMers anyway? (squirmsquirm)

Now, if I could only get people to read it. Hello? Anyone?

May 28, 2008

4-Way Traffic Orgasm

4-Way Traffic Orgasm


Setting: Car.

NINA: Then you turn left here.

KEN: No.


KEN: (with hushed awe) I can't.

NINA: You have to. It's that way, Ken. No! Don't turn right!

KEN: (shudders, moaning) Ohhhh god. (pause) Did you see that?

NINA: Yes. You turned the wrong way.

KEN: I turned right.

NINA: Yeah, now we have go back, and...

KEN: And so did the other three cars.

NINA: Ken. So? Please just turn here so we...

KEN: Do we have any tissues?

NINA: What?

KEN: You don't understand.

NINA: I do. We're getting farther and farther away from Elaine's house.

KEN: (with the reverence of the unworthy) Listen. I pulled up to the stop sign at the same time that the other three cars pulled up to their stop signs. They all had their blinkers on. They were turning right. I had to turn right. We all knew this. We all did this. We all turned right... at the... same time. (shudders again) It was... it is... so very beautiful.

NINA: (long pause) Are you serious?

KEN: (nodding) And very happy.

NINA: Because four cars at a four-way stop turned right at the same time?

KEN: But it's so much more than that, Nina! There's the timing, which is largely by chance, there are the goals of all four drivers, again by chance, but there are also all four drivers realizing that neither of the two drivers clockwise from them is going to interfere with their right turn. Now, here's where it gets cosmic: there is the realization that all drivers are making a right turn, and, even though the driver on your right in that scenario can't effect your progress in any way, it becomes clear that all four can share in the glory of the moment. That all four can commune in this unspoken four-vehicle, four-wheel, four-way ballet.

NINA: Great.

KEN: Wasn't it good for you too?

NINA: Not really.

KEN: Maybe you have to be driving.

NINA: I doubt it. Please, let's turn around now. I hate being late. Elaine told me 7; I'd like to get there by 7.

KEN: Yeah. Sorry.

NINA: (pause) You were supposed to turn left.

KEN: Yeah.

NINA: So, does that count?

KEN: What do you mean?

NINA: Does it count?

KEN: Why wouldn't it?

NINA: You staged it. You went right simply to have the experience.

KEN: It was in search of beauty.

NINA: Noble, but fake.

KEN: You've never faked it before?

NINA: That's the end, not the means.

KEN: But if you changed the means, maybe the ends would come for real.

NINA: Are you saying that I should be fucking other men?

KEN: Yes.

NINA: What?! I can't believe you.

KEN: Because I'm fucking Elaine.

NINA: Oh. Good point.

- end -

May 25, 2008

New Punctuation Mark - A Plea

We have the period.

We have all seen the question mark, right?

We can be absolutely thrilled by the fabulous uses of the exclamation point!

And, who doesn't like a good ol' fashioned interrobang

But, I've been puzzling for a while now about the possibility of a new punctuation mark.

I believe we need a punctuation mark for whispers.

Think about it: we have one to connote excitement, exaggeration, excessive emotionality or greater volume, why not one to mean care, tenderness, quiet or lesser volume?

Before you give me that tired old "but the context of the writing should tell the reader if words are being whispered therefore a whispermark is redundant" argument, I say only that the structure and context of sentences tell the reader quite amply if a question is being asked, but we still find it necessary to employ similarly-redundant question marks in our texts.

So I ask for your help, dear reader, what would you suggest for a whispermark? What would it look like? What would you call it?

I have a couple ideas, but I'd like feedback from you. I'm curious what ideas you might have about this.

Leave your comments with suggestions for the name of the new punctuation mark and descriptions of what it should look like.

May 23, 2008

If You Don't Happen To Like Piña Coladas

If You Don't Happen To Like Piña Coladas

"I was tired of my lady
We'd been together too long
Like a worn-out recording
Of a favorite song
So while she lay there sleeping
I read the paper in bed
And in the personal columns
There was this letter I read

'If you like Piña Coladas
And getting caught in the rain
If you're not into yoga
If you have half-a-brain
If you’d like making love at midnight
In the dunes on the Cape
Then I'm the love that you've looked for
Write to me and escape.'"

- Selected lyrics from
"Escape (The Piña Colada Song)"
by Rupert Holmes


(Table at restaurant. Lights up on MAN and WOMAN sitting down for the start of a blind date. They just met thirty seconds ago. "Escape (The Piña Colada Song)" by Rupert Holmes plays over the restaurant's stereo system a little too loudly. Try as they might, they can't start a real conversation while the song is playing.)

MAN: So long since I...

WOMAN: Oh, me too, I'm just glad that... uhh...

MAN: Yeah, I hope... that...

WOMAN: Well, it should be good food...

MAN: At least... yeah... that's what... yeah...

(they are continually pulled into the song, occasionally mumbling snatches of the lyrics under their breath during pauses, but trying to speak too, not wanting to acknowledge that they are each more entranced with the song than with each other, play with it)

WOMAN: You know...

MAN: Right... I'm hungry... and maybe if we can... just... uhhh...

WOMAN: Yeah, definitely... I don't see anyone at all... but maybe... maybe it's one of those...

MAN: No I ate here... I ate here once... there was... a guy who came... out to...

WOMAN: Take your order?

MAN: What?

WOMAN: Like a waiter?

MAN: Wait for... what?

WOMAN: The guy who came out... he was a...

MAN: A waiter.

WOMAN: A waiter.

MAN: He came out and...

WOMAN: Took your order.

MAN: Yeah... yeah... he did.

WOMAN: That's usually how it... usually there's a... there's a... a guy and...

MAN: He was a tall...

WOMAN: Tall? The waiter?

MAN: Yeah. And he took... he took...

WOMAN: Your order.

MAN: But he was...

WOMAN: Tall?

MAN: Asian.

WOMAN: Tall and Asian?

MAN: Both at the same time.

WOMAN: The waiter.

MAN: I haven't seen him... I hope he comes out...

WOMAN: I'm sure he... He's probably...

(long pause, they stare at each other, but they are listening to the song, this goes on for a long time, then they realize what they are doing, and they hide behind their menus, each mouthing the words to the song when they do so, pretending to read their menus, song eventually ends, MAN pulls down menu and starts laughing lightly to himself)

WOMAN: What?

MAN: Ohh, just... that. (points skyward indicating the source of the song)

WOMAN: That song?

MAN: That song. Yes.

WOMAN: I have to confess. I always liked that song.

MAN: (a connection that he makes more powerful than it merits) Yeah. Yeah! Yeah! Me too!

WOMAN: Phew! I thought, maybe... I was kind of embarrassed to admit it, but...

MAN: No! No! Don't be. It's a great song.

(they both laugh lightly about this, then a rather long pause falls over them)

MAN: You know what it’s about, right?

WOMAN: Yes, the guy’s going to cheat on...

MAN: He needs a change of pace and...

WOMAN: He responds to a personal ad in the newspaper so that...

MAN: ‘Cause his wife doesn’t pay attention to him and...

WOMAN: Well, I think it’s more than that...

MAN: Right, right, she doesn’t care....

WOMAN: (overlap with MAN’s “she doesn’t care”) They’re in a rut...

MAN: Well...

WOMAN: A rut.

MAN: Well...

WOMAN: That happens.

MAN: Yeah, but...

WOMAN: What?

MAN: I think she must have been, you know, cold-hearted and ignoring him to spur him into doing something like that.

WOMAN: Really? How do you make that interpretation?

MAN: The lyrics.

WOMAN: You mean “I was tired of my lady. We’d been together too long?” Those lyrics?

MAN: (obviously having lost, a little defensive, then moving on quickly) No. No, not those lyrics. Ummm... so he arranges a meeting.

WOMAN: Yes, to get away from his emotionally distant and detached wife.

MAN: Right.

WOMAN: I was kidding.
MAN: Yeah... uhhh...

WOMAN: (soothing this over) And his wife shows up at the meeting.

MAN: (dragging it right back down) Ah-ha! Right! See? It was her fault.

WOMAN: The song isn’t about fault.

MAN: It is, in a way.

WOMAN: It’s about how we lose track of those that we are supposed to be closest to. Not physically, but emotionally, spiritually, cognitively. Because communication decays over time. The way to keep a relationship strong is to constantly strive to communicate with your partner. How do you feel? What do you like? What’s your opinion? Little questions that mean everything over the great span of any life-long relationship - husband and wife, parent and child, brothers and sisters, or just friendships. So this relationship, in the Piña Colada song, it might have been great once upon a time. They got married, right? Something was there that told them to do that, but it’s faded with time. At some point in that marriage, this man and this woman no longer felt safe or comfortable or whatever to share something as simple as their preference for a certain fruity alcoholic beverage, their desire to get stuck outside in the rain, or even their distaste for yoga. They no longer could express their true selves, their true desires. Perhaps they felt that their spouse would attack them if they did; so the things which once burned inside them had been extinguished. The only way to relight that fire was to take out a personal ad in the paper. It was a sad and desperate act of a woman whose only crime was wanting to feel alive again, to feel that she could find someone who would listen to her needs! To her fears! To her urges! To her passion!

MAN: (long pause as this fervent speech dies down) So you admit it was her fault?


MAN: You said she took out the ad.

WOMAN: Of course she did, but he bit.

MAN: But she started it.

WOMAN: But he didn’t know that.

MAN: Right! He was innocent!

WOMAN: It’s not a trial! Even if it were, they were both guilty. The relationship was dying. They both needed to escape.

MAN: Hey, that’s the real title of the song - “Escape.”

WOMAN: Exactly!

MAN: (now he gets it) Ohhhh... yeah. So... do you?

WOMAN: Hmmm?

MAN: The song... do you?

WOMAN: Do I... what?

MAN: Do you like piña coladas?

WOMAN: (laughs, thinking he's joking around) Ohhhhh! No. No, I don't.

MAN: (he wasn’t) Oh.

WOMAN: I don't like most "girly" drinks.

MAN: Girly?

WOMAN: I prefer straight whiskey. Stiff martinis. That sort of thing.

MAN: Oh.

WOMAN: Do you like...?

MAN: Yeah, actually I do.

WOMAN: Okay. Neat.

MAN: Girly?

WOMAN: Well, I just meant, it's a sweet drink, and...

MAN: It's girly.

WOMAN: No, well, yes, I mean, it's usually meant for women...

MAN: Really?

WOMAN: Umm... I mean, historically, it was...

MAN: Historically?

WOMAN: I mean, the stereotype, you know?

MAN: (pause) No.

WOMAN: You know: men drink hard liquor; women drink sweet.

MAN: I drink sweet liquor.

WOMAN: Right, right, and that's fine... it's just a stereotype...

MAN: Yes, it is.

WOMAN: Just like how I don't fit the stereotype for women, because of what I like to drink, my friends think I’m so butch that way.

MAN: What are you saying?

WOMAN: What?

MAN: Are you saying that... because I like girly drinks, because I like piña coladas... are you saying that...

WOMAN: No! No! Nononono... not at all. I'm not saying you're gay.

MAN: I'm not!

WOMAN: No. I realize that. I mean, I’m just getting to know you and...

MAN: I’m not gay!

WOMAN: You know, it's just a silly old prejudice.

MAN: Do you have any other judgments you'd like to heap on me?

WOMAN: No. No. I...

MAN: Because you said you liked the song!

WOMAN: I do. I love the song, but I...

MAN: Right, right, that's what you said, but then you come out with... with... this! This... this...

WOMAN: I don't get what you're...

MAN: This bullshit!!

WOMAN: Excuse me?

MAN: Is it or is it not true that you don't like piña coladas or Escape begin parentheses The Piña Colada Song end parentheses by Rupert Holmes at all?!

WOMAN: Hold on... wait, what?

MAN: Do you now or have you ever liked piña coladas?

WOMAN: No, I told you that.

MAN: Yet you like the song?

WOMAN: Right, but...

MAN: You confessed to liking the song!

WOMAN: Confessed?

MAN: What other lies do you have for me?

WOMAN: Listen...

MAN: No, you listen. You're either lying about liking the song, or you're lying about hating piña coladas! You can't have it both ways! I will not start off this relationship with untruths and prevarication!! I demand honesty! Demand it! You need to respect that! And you need to respect the drinks that I drink! I don't care if you think they're girly, or if you think I'm gay. They're not, and I'm not! And even if I was either one of those things, I would still be a better person than you, because I'm honest. I don't come to a blind date brimming to the tip-top with deceit, slander and trickery; do I? What kind of sick person does that? You. You just did it. You are that sick person! (beat) You know what, though? I'm glad this is out in the open now and not later, after we've been dating for a while, what other pathetic tall-tales would I have fallen victim to? What ugly falsehoods would have popped up in our life together? When we were in our first home? In our bed? In front of each other's parents? In front of our children?! What about that? Huh? What about the children? Have you even thought about them?! No. No. You haven't. You just sit there and happily spin a tapestry of lies, trying to hide the real you from me. And why? Because, your whole being is leached through with treachery. You lie and lie and lie and lie and lie and lie and lie and lie until you become a lie!! You become not real. Every part of you. Not just your heart, but your brain, your soul, your tits, and even some of your lesser organs. I'm sorry that's what's happened to you. I'm sorry you can't be real. I'm sorry that it killed your chances with me. I'm sorry you feel it's necessary to play out your pathetic insecurities on me, a well-meaning, caring, heterosexual man, but I won't just roll over and take your malicious jabs and your damn, damn lies! You know why? Do you? Because I'm stronger than that, I'm better than that, and I don't have all these incredible bullshit issues to dump all over the place! I'm more secure than all that. So, yes. Yes, I do! I do like piña coladas! And, if you can't accept that, then you can just get the hell out of here!!

(very, very long pause)

WOMAN: Well. Ummm...

MAN: (shocked, waking up to what he just did, very resigned, slumps) Shit. Shit. I'm... listen... I'm so sorry. Really, I apologize. That was not necessary. At all.

WOMAN: Uhh... okay. Apology accepted.

MAN: I mean... so what? So you don't like piña coladas? Alright. I can live with that.

WOMAN: Good.

MAN: I'm sure you have many other desirable qualities.

WOMAN: (trying a joke) I do. I like getting caught in the rain.

MAN: (connecting again) You do? Really?


MAN: Me too! That's so great!

WOMAN: I thought you might.

MAN: You know, why don't we start over?

WOMAN: Sure. Sure. I can do that.

MAN: Great.

WOMAN: Why don't we start over someplace else? I don't think that tall, Asian waiter is ever going to help us.

MAN: Yeah. Bad vibes here now anyway. Totally my fault, I know.

WOMAN: It’s not about fault. Despite all the shouting, there's something about you I find disarmingly attractive.

MAN: Really? There is?

WOMAN: Yeah, you express you inner desires. Your needs. Your fears. Your urges. Your passion.

MAN: (overlapping) My passion.

WOMAN: (softly, connecting) You know what? Why don't we go to my place?

MAN: Alright. Yeah! Sure! Where do you live?

(standing, starting to leave)

WOMAN: Near downtown on Fifth. I've got this great apartment directly above my all-time favorite yoga studio.

MAN: (taken aback, stopping) Oh. I’m really not into yoga.

WOMAN: (taking his hand, leading him out) Yeah. I kinda figured that.


!Bonus! Joel and the Bots riffing on the song in an MST3K episode:

I share many of their concerns.

May 22, 2008

Paranormal Male Pregnancy Film Montage Synopsis

What follows is a synopsis of a proposed film montage in which the hero of the story, a man impregnated by a powerful ghost, agonizes about whether or not he's going to have an abortion; with director's notes.*

-start montage-

We see our hero walking the oceanside at sunset, pondering his decision, James Taylor music plays thoughtfully just atop the volume of the waves.

(Note: The waves are real and symbolic. Seagull cries should be there, but subtle.)


He gazes wistfully at a young couple pushing a very happy toddler in a safety swing at a local park, James Taylor still playing.

(Note: The swing is symbolic and safe. Carl says we have a safety swing from that life insurance commercial we shot last year. It's yellow, but can be painted if that doesn't work visually.)


He stands shirtless in front of the mirror, caressing his rapidly swelling abdomen, he wonders if there are any doctors who perform abortions on men, James Taylor continues.

(Note: Mirrors are almost redundantly symbolic, don't be afraid to run with it.)


He is watching a horror movie about a haunted house, coinciding with a jagged turn in the James Taylor song. He's not sure if he would be giving birth to a ghost and haunting his life and his house... forever! His face seems to ask, "Can a ghost fetus even be aborted?"

(Note: Check to see if James Taylor has a song that takes a jagged turn. Carl knows someone who has James Taylor's complete discography, except for that one live album.)


He enters a Free Clinic to set up an appointment for an abortion, gets handed a flavored condom by the goth girl behind the counter, gets creeped out by the atmosphere and leaves hastily.

(Note: Recall of nearly identical scene from hit indie film "Juno" will be culturally reflective, "in the now", and appeal to youth.)


He retreats to a bucolic mountain cabin, living simply that he may simply live. He makes tea on a woodstove, reads Jung, knits a blanket through his tears.

(Note: Temporal juxtaposition of "Juno" and Thoreau references underscores serious cultural themes to which we will allude in the press packet. Look up definition of "bucolic". Is that what we're going for?)


He emerges from the cabin after a few days. James Taylor song ends. He has made up his mind!

(Note: Talk to producers about commissioning a Paranormal Male Pregnancy song from James Taylor with special emphasis on putting a jagged turn about a third of the way into it. Do we have the budget for this? Carl might know.)

-end montage-

*Extra-twinkly thanks to Phil Gonzales for the suggested movie title and, umm, let's just call it, the possible "action sequence" through which the man is made to become great with child.

May 14, 2008

Test Your Intelligence, Dummy!

According to this guy, professional football (American football, damnit! U!S!A! U!S!A!) players, and regular schlubs in corporate settings are often made to complete tests like this one called the Wonderlic Personnel Test, which, aside from its sexalicious-sounding name, is meant to neatly categorize people into intelligence concentration camps - truly smart / smart / nearly everyone else / fucking idiot - so that we may more easily discriminate against people based on one simple parameter rather than bother ourselves with their other redeeming qualities.

The questions seem pretty simple, but there is a time limit imposed. The sample test above gives you two minutes to complete nine questions (13.3 seconds per question). The full test gives you twelve minutes for fifty questions (14.4 seconds per question).

How did you do? I will smugly assert that I got all nine correct, with 15 seconds left on the clock. This isn't important, except as a reminder that I am smarter and, therefore, better than you are. Oh, and also, you are obviously a bad human being who has been stinking up the planet for long enough. And, while we're at it, give me your money.

Alright, just kidding about all that mess. Truth is, I'm good at IQ tests, but very, very bad at many other things. Like compassion, drawing, not stabbing people in the stomach, tying knots and breakfast. Also, I can't snap my fingers. No idea why. Never could. Still can't. I know, I know - this makes me a complete fucking loser. Thankfully, this test had no questions that required the answer to be snapped on one's fingers. I can do that finger-in-your-cheek popping sound pretty well though.

Moving on, I thought it would be fun to create a similar test for you. How disstupid are you? Take my test and find out!

First task, give it a similarly porny sounding name... How about...

The Goodblow Job Aptitude Test

(Time limit: 10 minutes longer than it takes you to finish. Put your head on your desk and drool.)

1. This question is
a) the first question.
b) question #1.
c) at the beginning of the test.
d) actually a statement.
e) difficult.
f) a metaphor.

2. Assume the first two statements are true.

I always stab people in the ass. I am standing behind you. Run.

Is the final statement:
a) True?
b) False?
c) Funny?
d) Adequate warning?

3. The correct answer to this question is
a) c.
b) e.
c) a and b.
d) f.
e) b.
f) c, e, b and not f.
g) d and q.

4. A boat leaves the harbor at 11:15 PM. Why?
a) No reason, really.
b) The harbor was letting many, many other boats enter her.
c) Aliens.
d) More accurately, the harbor and the boat left each other.

5. A farmer has forty meters of fencing. He must construct an enclosure for five baby goats, and he wants to give them the largest area possible. Baby goats are
a) adorable.
b) erotic.
c) menacing.
d) easy to throw.
e) inadequate trial attorneys.
f) shish kabobable.

6. Which is the largest number?
a) infinity
b) infinity infinity
c) infinity plus eternity
d) triple infinity
e) infinity to the infinity power
f) infinity times your mom
g) infinity !extreme!

7) Can you get this question wrong?
a) yes

8) What's bothering you?
a) the weather
b) the very real juxtaposition of love and anger in the human psyche
c) the screams of your imprisoned victims
d) the ceaseless quest to find meaning in this life
e) cabbage

9) What is next in the following sequence?

1, 2, 3, 4 ...

a) ,
b) 5
c) more numbers
d) candy
e) it just ends at 4
f) all of the above

May 5, 2008

Adage 2.0

1. The four-foot long, razor-sharp, double-edged, solid steel pen is mightier than the sword.

2. You can lead a horse to water, or you can just shove a hose down its throat.

3. A watched pot never boils, but the water inside it does.

4. A bird in the hand is worth a bird in the other hand.

5. A stitch in time is impossible unless you have some sort of metaphysical sewing machine.

6. The grass is always greener when you take off your sunglasses.

7. Don't throw out the baby with the bathwater, unless it's not your baby.

8. People who live in glass houses should not throw stones or practice the shot put naked.

9. Time flies when you're not stitching it or nailing the bastard to the ground.

10. All that glitters is soooooo pretty!

11. A watched pot never boils and rarely turns into a lusty, naked, insatiable supermodel.

12. Opposites attract identical opposites.

13. Spare the rod, boil the child.

14. Ignorance is stupid.

The Names of All the People I Have Set on Fire, and My Reasons for Each

1. Sir Kendrick Worthington Cuthridge, III - He comported himself in a manner most insufferable. Quite.

2. Tallulah Mintz - I had to see if was possible that she could be hotter than she already was. The answer was yes, she could be. Dramatically so.

3. Otto M. O'Layshen - Entirely his fault.

4. Henry DeWitt - Needed to make some campfire S'mores for the other kids. Henry was the closest thing to kindling we could find.

5. The Nikklestet family - More environmentally responsible than burning natural resources to heat my home.

6. Collette Maple-Burns - This was an understandable mistake.

7. Dewey Potter - Don't even pretend you care. No one liked him anyway.

8. George Numann - He dared me to do it by tying himself to the chair next to my matches and that watering can filled with kerosene.

May 3, 2008

Suicide Anonymous

Suicide Anonymous


(lights up on a circle of folding chairs, coffee pot, cookies, cups on a small side table)

(lights fade slowly)


May 2, 2008

Local Trees Surround Village, Attack Feared Imminent

DEE CROSSING, OH - This spring has awakened Dee Crossing residents to the awareness that the tiny valley hamlet of 845 has been outflanked by a surging army of trees. Local law enforcement authorities are, for the moment, advising residents to remain calm as teams of town leaders and military strategists from the VFW post on Ball Street assess the situation.

"There's definitely more of them this year than last, and they look bigger too," Dee Crossing volunteer fire department captain and police chief, Darren Schunker, stated in a Wednesday evening phone interview placed to his home and makeshift command center. "We have noticed that, as the weather's turned warmer, the trees seem to be arming themselves with bright green bullets which they wield on the periphery of their powerful wings."

Authorities fear the green color of the munitions may underscore the massing foliage's evil intent. According to Megan Klenk, vice-president of operations at TriRiver Lumber Mill and Forestry Services, "That vivid, chartreusey green just doesn't occur in nature. There's got to be some chemical process behind it. Probably plutonium."

The prospect of attack by rampaging, radioactive swarms of trees has put Dee Crossing on alert. Resident patrols watch the interior perimeter of the enveloping force. "Mostly, they just stand there, but, sometimes, if you're real quiet, you can hear them sort of whispering to each other," said high school senior and volunteer patrol scout, Lucas Wartleburn. "God knows what sick crap they're going to try and pull."

The trees seem to be unscrupulous in their mobilizations to date. Residents are reporting that they have spotted what appear to be very little trees arrayed among the formidable adults. Schunker confirms the sighting of many trees that are "obviously just babies or very, very young" which the older trees seem willing to sacrifice in their effort to eradicate the town. "When you consider that they're going to do that, and that Larry (Grosnik, TriRiver's CEO) advised me that most of the larger ones seem to be wearing thick suicide vests made of an explosive material called 'bark', you can see the level of danger we're facing."

Authorities are warning residents against taking vigilante actions. Instead, Schunker and Dee Crossing Mayor, Rebecca Imbs, are working with TriRiver management to enlist citizens in a "massive, coordinated strike against" the trees.

"TriRiver says with enough organized volunteer help from the good people of Dee Crossing, they may be able to completely wipe out all 18,000 acres of menacing hardwood," says Imbs. Klenk adds that "TriRiver has bravely ventured into these battles before. We have the weaponry to clear this threat, but we're going to need help from Dee Crossing residents, young and old. It's them or us."

If successful in enlisting enough volunteers from the town, TriRiver estimates the bellicose trees could be "completely obliterated" within 24 months. TriRiver has also offered to clean up and dispose of the tree dead on behalf of Dee Crossing. "We don't want rotting carcasses everywhere, and Larry Grosnik has let us know that TriRiver would take care of that problem without charging residents much, especially considering the enormity of the task," remarked Imbs.

Klenk asserts that all tree corpses would be handled professionally and respectfully with their remains distributed to manufacturers willing to make products that "commemorate and memorialize the courageous citizen-soldiers of Dee Crossing, like chairs and reams of copy paper."

May 1, 2008

New Slang Terms for the Female Anatomy

I don't know about you, but I'm sick and tired of denigrating women in the same old ways. I am vowing to aid all misogynists struggling with stilted or trite derogatory euphemisms. Read on, oh dull japists!

1. Knees = "knobs", "knockers"

2. Ears = "women's ears"

3. Hair = "stupid girl hair"

4. Esophagus = "sissy esophagus"

5. Vagina = "the antipenis", "vagyna"

6. Toes = "effeminate things on the end of girly feet"

7. Femur = "femalur"

8. Boobies = "booobees"

9. Bellybutton = "tiny vagina of the north"