Tuesday, December 31, 2013

Spam email of the week

Subject: Fwd:

This is a forward about nothing.

From: News

This is an email FROM news about  news and/or nothing. It's like I'm looking in a mirror of me looking in a mirror only it's a dream but the dream is Conception but actually it was Momento only to find out that Bruce Willis was dead the whole time.

News [news-58@realestatepronews.com]

Real estate news is my favorite kind of news because it's very relevant to my life. What are the latest real estate trends? Is it a buyer's market or a farmer's market? Are interest rates something? Can I trust an agent who DOESN'T drive an absurd vehicle covered in real estate jargon? Does that house come with a dishwasher? When I have questions such as these, I don't actively research the answers myself, but instead wait to get an email from a pro in the field. Anyway, what is the news?

Freak space rock spins dusty trail

...

...

...

...

...

wtf

The Hubble telescope has spotted an asteroid radiating six comet-like tails, making it resemble a "rotating lawn sprinkler".

That's a ... that's the end of the email. That's the news. I just ... is this good news, like I should grab a telescope and try to see the rotating lawn sprinkler asteroid? Or is this bad news, like I should retreat to my underground bunker and await the asteroid apocalypse? Or is this real estate news, like now would be a good time to sell because the rotating lawn sprinkler asteroid radiating six comet-like tails is headed for your 'hood, homeboy?

In retrospect it would have been helpful if this particular email had a subject header. Nevertheless ... (peels off in stolen ReMax car to escape impending doom)

Thursday, December 19, 2013

Spam email of the week

Subject: ????? ?? ???? [???? ???? ??]

Translation: "WHAAAAAAAA? [By the way, WHAAAAAAAA?]" I'm sure this will make more sense when I open it.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
بسم الله الرحمن الرحيم
الأخ / Buddy حفظه الله
السلام عليكم ورحمة الله وبركاته

نود أخبارك بأن صديقك:


It's like someone is speaking to me in dots and Arabic, but stops in the middle to call me buddy. I like this email. It is my favorite email.

Exact blueprints and videos in making the Hendershot Generator are provided so you can follow and make your own Hendershot Generator more convenient http://hendershotgenerator.de.pn

Oh cool thanks, this website will make it a lot more convenient for me to build my Hendershot Generator. To this point the only thing stopping me from building a Hendershot Generator from scratch was lack of convenience. One time I built a generator from LEGOs, and by generator I mean house, and by LEGOs I mean crayons. And by built I mean drew.

Click Here The first FREE ENERGY GENERATOR that violates all laws of Physics and humiliates top scientists even after 84 years making them scream ITS FROM GOD http://hendershotgenerator.de.pn

Hendershot Generator activated, produces paper printouts of cures for all diseases, then does 720-degree dunk on a 20-foot hoop, and then spits out beautiful woman wearing a bikini

Woman: Hey fellas. Can your "science" do this? (sticks out tongue and twerks)

Scientists: We are humiliated! We have been trying to do this for 84 years! (one of the scientists dies from failure)

Hendershot Generator: (in robot voice) CHECK THIS OUT CHUMPS ... (makes lots of noise) (poops out 24 karat bar of gold)

Scientists: IT'S FROM GOD

Click Here A fuelless generator in which a demonstration was even conducted before the US press in which the device passed all assessment tests http://hendershotgenerator.de.pn Click Here

Frank Hendershot: 'Sup U.S. press. Go ahead and give this bad boy all the assessment tests - it don't care.

U.S. press: Uh, we're just the press - we don't administer the tests, we just report the findings.

Frank Hendershot: That's what I THOUGHT, idiots.

U.S. press: It says here this thing's fuel-less. Is that true?

Frank Hendershot: You tell me ... (activates Hendershot Generator)

Hendershot Generator: AIN'T NOBODY GOT FUEL FOR THIS (makes lots of noise) DJ SCRIBBLE, WHAT'S POPPIN'?

DJ Scribble: (plays "Everybody Dance Now")

Hendershot Generator: (starts showing footage of monster truck rally)

U.S. press: What the ... I'm not sure you have a good grasp on what a generator is supposed to do.

Tuesday, December 17, 2013

My mom – protecting the elderly from fake email since 2002


You may or may not recall, but my other venture aside from writing super important prose about things like changing the batteries in my smoke detectors is making fun of spam emails on my blog. The Lord’s work, I know, but I am not a hero. I am just a man.

One of my favorite things is when people send me their spam emails to write up. It makes me feel like “Dear Abby,” except that instead of solving people’s familial/emotional problems through great insight, I am recycling garbage on a blog that at least 10 people know/care about.

One of those 10 people is my mom who, believe it or not, also occasionally sends me her spam emails to write up. I have no doubt she tells all of her coworkers to forward her spam emails so she can send them to her son who makes fun of them on his blog. “You must be so proud,” they say to her, although my mom does not detect the sarcasm and responds, “I am, I am. Now I know it was worth it to go back to school myself so that I could get my nursing certification and pay for his Catholic education and also college.” Then her coworkers don’t know if that was sarcastic and just slowly back away from the conversation.

I talked to my mom recently and she said she had a spam email for me, only it was on her phone and she couldn’t figure out how to send it. I told her to just forward it to me as she would an email—because, you know, it’s an email—but this was apparently not an adequate suggestion. In my head I wished the Apple store employees luck and patience for when my mom arrived there to set up an appointment at the Genius Bar to figure out how to forward an email from her iPhone.

She was disappointed too because the spam email was pretty great, she said. It claimed to be from the FBI and came with detailed instructions about how to obtain her supposed lottery winnings.
“Wow, that does sound amazing,” I said.

“Yeah,” she said. “It kind of worried me, though. So I actually contacted the FBI to let them know.”

“Yeah. Wait, you what?”

Indeed my mom had gotten in touch with the FBI to alert them to her spam email. She was told to use their website to fill out a complicated form, although I’m sure the gist of the situation was provided in the section for additional comments: Dear FBI, someone is trying to impersonate you guys and they’re saying I won the lottery. My son writes about spam for a living so I am good at discerning these things. If you need me to appear in court to testify, please send the info to my regular email and not my phone because I am having trouble viewing email on my phone. Oh, and just to be sure, I didn’t actually win the lottery, did I? Ha, ha, j/k! Thanks, FBI! Love, Judy.

I asked my mom why she took time out of her very busy day to do this, and she said, “God forbid some 80-year-old woman gets fooled by this … it looks very legit.”

“Mom, why would the FBI be telling someone they won the lottery? That is the opposite of legit.”

“I know,” she said while she laughed, “but still. You never know. You hear all the stories. Of course, now they have all my information.”

I enjoyed the fact that my mom, who brings communion to the hospital on Sundays and who does things like contact the FBI about spam emails, was now worried about being in the FBI’s crosshairs like she were starring in The Bourne Identity.

Days later she finally managed to send me the email. It is as amazing as advertised. All she has to do to get her $2.4 million is send $96 in shipping to “Mr. Ken Jackson,” who is in charge of the “Anti-Terrorist and Monetary Crimes Division,” ironically. Somewhere, an 80-year-old woman was doing just that before the actual FBI broke down her door and dramatically stopped her.

Thanks to my mom.

I guess you could say reporting on spam email runs in the family. But don’t call us heroes. It’s just the Lord’s work. 

"We found the perps, Mrs. Kenny, thanks to your tireless efforts. All four of 'em operating as 'Mr. Ken Jackson.' This country owes you its gratitude."

Note: This column appears in the 12/19 issue of The Glendale Star and the 12/20 issue of the Peoria Times.

Facebook meme of the day


SO TRUE SO TRUE

TELL ME A FUNNY JOKE HUNCHBACK LADY HOLDING A MOP

Mop lady: DERP

DON'T GET IT TRY AGAIN

Mop lady: /urinates on floor/ OOPSIE

YO, YOU AIIIIGHT LADY? USE THE MOP FOR THAT DANG

Mop lady: KNOCK KNOCK

WHO'S THERE YO?

Mop lady: MY NECK

YOUR NECK WHO

Mop lady: JUST KIDDING I DON'T HAVE A NECK THAT'S THE JOKE

LOL I HAD A TERRIBLE DAY THAT JOKE MADE IT ALL GO AWAY

YOUR NECK IS HANGIN' OUT WITH YOUR CHIN IN THE BAHAMAS OR SOMETHIN'

Mop lady: IT'S ONLY FUNNY IF I SAY IT A$$HOLE

OH MY BAD

Mop lady: DID YA HEAR THE ONE ABOUT THE ASIAN AND THE BLACK GUY AND THE HOOKER

YO HOLD UP THAT DOESN'T SOUND RI--

Mop lady: THE BLACK GUY LIKES MY BUTT AND THE ASIAN GUY HAD A SMALL PENIS

THAT MAKES NO SENSE, YOU STEPPED OVER THE LINE HUNCHBACK MOP LADY

Mop lady: WHY DON'T THEY MAKE THE WHOLE PLANE OUT OF THE BLACK BOX

I'M OUT, YO

Friday, December 13, 2013

Facebook meme of the day


BOUT TO LET GO OF THIS HEART-SHAPED BALLOON

BALLOONS MAKE ME SAD :(

OTHER THINGS THAT MAKE ME SAD ARE CANDY AND PONIES

BESIDES I ASKED THAT DANG CLOWN FOR THE FACE OF WALTER WHITE NOT A HEART

DUMBASS

SORRY FOR THE TYPO BUT IT'S HARD TO PROOFREAD SOMETHING WITH THIS MANY WORDS - DAILY DOSE

OH ALSO THE BALLOON IS A METAPHOR

SOMETHIN' BE MAKIN' YOU SAD JUST LET IT GO

DOG DIED?

LET THAT SH*T GO, YO

IT'S THAT EASY

STOP HOLDING ON TO YOUR DOG'S DEATH, JUST SEND IT INTO THE CLOUDS

/RELEASES WORLD POVERTY INTO SKY/

SEE?

AIN'T GOTTA WORRY ABOUT THAT NO MORE

FOLLOW MY LEAD, AFRICA

THROW 'DEM HUNGER PANGS UP INTO DA AIR/LIKE YOU JUST DON'T CARE

BOOM, HAPPINESS

YOU'RE WELCOME

Thursday, December 12, 2013

Spam email of the week


Subject: Interested in you.

/blushing./

I'm Miss  Anna  Tsunmc, i slim in stature above all i like being honesty,trusted, sincere.

Whoa, whoa, hold up, Miss Anna Tslssmncc. Hold up. All of those things you said? Is everything I am, too! I also like being honesty and am slim in stature. Hashtag destiny.

I have gone through your contact mail today,

You WHAT? I thought you like being trusted? J/k that is cool, whatevs.

it interest me to know you more, and I hope to use this opportunity to explain myself a little about me,

Your words … like poetry. Please, go on.

am yellow in completion,

wtf. You are Marge Simpson? I maybe would have started with a different physical characteristic and then gently delved into the fact that you are yellow, i.e. “I have super big boobs and long hair and a nice butt and I like to make sex a lot also I have yellow skin no big deal.”

I guess it’s possible “completion” is not a typo but that you completed your outfit today by tossing on a yellow sweater? No? No. You are actually yellow. Okay. I will try and look past this.

Somethings I like to do in my spare time are gardening, home improvement projects, camping, bicycling in the park, backyard bar-b-ques, moon-lite walks on the beach, preparing candle-lite dinners for someone special, sending flowers to someone special for some reasons,

Here are some reasons to send flowers to someone special:
  • Happy birthday maybe?
  • Looking forward to our moon-lite walk on the beach later
  • Sorry I am yellow
  • I will plant these later in the garden after I build the deck
  • I went through your contact mail, who is "wifey?" Why don't you give these to HER you bastard
  • Don’t forget to pick up meat products for our backyard bar-b-que I love you 

sitting and watching the sun set with someone special, and cuddling in front of a fire with someone special.

You have an excellent grasp on romance for someone who was dropped on Earth yesterday.

I enjoy cooking, gardening, playing billiards, darts, dinning out, going to the cinema, traveling and site-seeing, museums, and concerts.

This may be the love-induced adrenaline talking, but what say we go plant some petunias, take in one of those talking movie shows at the local cinema, and then hustle some fools in darts?

I like almost any kind of music, but I think my favorite is instrumental jazz.

Oh snap, DEAL BREAKER. Sorry. What kind of monster are you?

Tuesday, December 10, 2013

An open letter to whoever built our smoke detectors


Dear smoke alarm company:

Two years ago I wrote what could have been considered an open letter regarding your product line. In the months since I have seen no improvement, only regression. Here is another letter because I hate you.

We recently had guests visit our home, guests who included two boys, 2 and 5 years old. As they slept—as we all slept—at around 3 a.m. I was greeted with the all-too-familiar sound of “Beep … … … … … … beep … … … … … … beep.”

The Arizona weather had dipped below freezing, which is to say it had plummeted to an overnight low of 60 degrees, making it an absurd 73 degrees inside our home. As such, the extreme cold had drained the battery on one of our smoke alarms—one of your smoke alarms.

I jumped out of bed in a panic and ran to the hallway to try and determine from which of our 28 smoke detectors the beep was coming. Luckily for me, the beep was not coming from the room where our guests’ boys were sleeping. (Lucky for you, too, because if it had been I would be filing a lawsuit instead writing this pleasant letter.) Instead it was coming from the room where my own girls slept.

I retrieved the ladder from the garage because that is a fun thing to do at 3 a.m. and I lugged it upstairs. My efforts to quietly enter my girls’ room were rendered moot when I saw both of them sitting up and quaking back and forth in fear saying, “What is that noise daddy, IS IT A MONSTER?”

I assured my girls it was only the faint beep of one of your terribly inefficient products and I climbed the ladder to change the battery. The old battery slid out of its holder and hit me on the head to add injury to insult, although it did lighten the mood of my daughters. As usual, the alarm continued to beep for about 5-10 minutes even after the new battery was installed because you have somehow managed to manufacture a line of products that must adjust to the reality of a new battery rather than be positively affected right away. One of my daughters’ dinky, plastic, talking toys is more adaptable than your product, which is supposed to be life-saving.

Oh, and guess who was now wide awake and ready to play? I tried calling a representative of your company to come to the house and watch our girls while my wife and I slept, but nobody answered. Maybe the batteries on your phones died.

A week later, as my wife was leaving the house, a different smoke detector above where our dog stays during the day starting beeping. Because this noise scares the crap out of our dog, my wife had to move him upstairs for the day so that all of his hair didn’t fall out and he didn’t experience post traumatic stress syndrome and have to see one of those dog therapists. Before leaving, my wife had to put the heat on in an attempt to silence the beep, as this is a strategy that has worked in the past. Congratulations on your contributions to energy-efficiency.

That evening I changed the battery on that smoke detector, and when I did it sent a shockwave of extremely loud and dramatic beeps throughout the house that sent the dog and children running for the exits. I imagine this is the sound the alarms are intended to make when activated by actual smoke, but I agree that it's equally important they make the same noise when a battery is changed. All of this makes sense and is convenient.

I now sit in anticipation of the winter months, and one-by-one each smoke detector emitting a faint but maddeningly consistent beep in the wee hours of the night. As I wait, I urge you to look into designing a product that does not rely on a battery that drains when exposed to temperatures considered ideal in most locales. I am also submitting bills for reimbursement for batteries, our heating, and dog therapy. You’ll know it’s from me because I will include the note, “Beep, beep mother beeeeeeeeeeeep.”


ERRONEOUS REPRESENTATION

Note: This column appears in the 12/12 issue of The Glendale Star and the 12/13 issue of the Peoria Times.

Facebook meme of the day


DANG YO CAN'T DECIDE IF I SHOULD BE A MIME OR A CLOWN

THING IS I REALLY WANT TO BE A CPA

ARE YOU THERE, GOD?

IT'S ME, STEVE

THE CLOWN GUY

TRYING TO GET SOME GUIDANCE OUT IN THIS BARREN FIELD

/HONKS NOSE/

IS ANYBODY THERE?

Voice from Heaven: You must make a "choice" (voice makes air quotes) to take a "chance" or your life will never "change," clown Steve.

YOU'RE RIGHT, YO

Voice from Heaven: Sorry for the delay, clown Steve. Didn't recognize you in your pea coat and jeans.

THAT'S AIIIIIGHT, YO, FRIDAY IS DRESS DOWN DAY

IMMA JUST EAT THIS APPLE OFF THIS WEIRD TREE AND SEE WHAT HAPPENS

/EATS APPLE/

/TURNS INTO FIRST SUCCESSFUL CLOWN CPA/

Thursday, December 05, 2013

Spam email of the week

Subject: To:Air Purification ,,,13,000 hrs UV Lights,,,Amalgam Lights & Electronic Ballasts

In my mind I am picturing a man standing on a table in the middle of a crowded bar, glass in hand and raised to the sky, screaming, "To air purification! (crowd screams in delight) ... To 13,000 hours of UV lights! (crowd a little bit less enthused) ... To amalgam lights and electronic ballasts!" (crowd is like, "Alright hold up, now that's going too far.") (Also in my mind, three commas = ellipses.)

Dear Purchasing Manager to Air Purification Company,

Close.

This is Gina from CREATOR UV & IR Lighting Co.,Ltd. in Guangzhou.

Hi Gina in Guangzhou! It turns out "Gina" is the third most popular name in the sub-provincial Chinese city of Guangzhou, so everything here checks out.

CREATOR Lighting has participated in Exhibition of AHR EXPO in USA  for three consecutive times.

Indeed your reputation precedes you, CREATOR Lighting. I was a guest speaker at the AHR Expo back in 2011 (topic: "Electronic Ballasts: What Gives?") and all the buzz was about CREATOR Lighting and could this amazing company sustain the success of their rookie season. The next two consecutive times would go on to prove: no diggity.

We are pleasure to recommend below CREATOR UV Products for you.

The pleasure are all mine, Gina from Guangzhou. Hit me off with the realness. (Note: These are actual, real attached jpgs to this email.)


This one is called "U-shaped Amalgam lamp." This is what a U looks like in Guangzhou. For all the real amalgam heads out there, this is basically air purification pornography. NSFW.




Who wants some "UV ballasts?" Pick your flava, playa. I'm partial to the black one because you know what they say - once you go black UV ballast, you never go back (because of their long cords - look at that thing!). Oops also NSFW.



This is, obviously, a "complete set of UV systems." As purchasing manager for an air purification company, I'm somewhat embarrassed to admit that I would have no idea what to do with these things if they were handed to me. I would probably have a sword-fight with the two long thingees and try to charge my phone with the whatchamacalit. Nevertheless, hit me off with three of everything, Gina, and say wussup to my Guangzhou brotha from anotha motha, Vinny.

Wednesday, December 04, 2013

Facebook meme of the day


OH SNAP THIS VAGINAL BIRTH REENACTMENT HAS REALLY PUT THINGS IN PERSPECTIVE

HOW MANY DELS (UNITS) OF PAIN IS IT WHEN YOU GIVE BIRTH TO A 2-YEAR-OLD BOY?

MAD DELS, YO

GRAB HIM BY THE EYEBROWS DOC AND PULL HIM OUT OF THE VAGINA, IS HOW YOU DO IT

THEN CUT THE CORD AND SEND HIM TO GREAT CLIPS

THIS MEME BE LIKE, "HUMANS CAN ONLY HANDLE 45 PAIN UNITS. BUT HOLD UP, BECAUSE HUMANS CAN HANDLE 57 PAIN UNITS, MY BAD. FEEL THE LOVE"

I FRACTURED 20 BONES JUST LOOKING AT THIS MEME, FOR REAL

IS THIS SCIENTIFIC CHART DRAWN TO SCALE? DOC'S HANDS BE LOOKING LIKE DOOGIE HOWSER COMPARED TO MOM'S LEG, JUST SAYIN

I NEVER THOUGHT MOTHERS LOVED UNTIL THIS MEME

GUESS NOBODY EVER SHOWED ME AN ACCURATE REPRESENTATION OF VAGINAL PAIN

NOW I KNOW

NOW I KNOW

HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY

OR CHRISTMAS WHATEVS

Tuesday, December 03, 2013

Paying through the nose to have the no-travel blues


I had to venture into our family’s fireproof box of priceless valuables for something recently, and got distracted by its contents. Our daughters’ birth certificates. Detailed instructions written out by my father-in-law about how to access his safe deposit box at the bank if he “doesn’t survive Obama’s presidency” that include various passwords and a minuscule key that seems custom made for a dollhouse. An encased Michael Jordan basketball card that I had planned to retire on but, at last search, was literally worth less than the fireproof box in which it resides. My passport.

I opened my passport book, humored by the idea that I once harbored dreams of traveling the globe. I had obtained a passport solely for our honeymoon to Barbados, a trip that took place almost 10 years ago. Its lack of cool travel stamps confirmed that I had not stepped off North American soil since. Also, I noticed, it was set to expire in two months.

I needed to renew my passport, and I was probably already too late. When I first entertained the idea of getting a passport many years ago, I would hear all these various warnings about the absurd length of time it takes for one to process. “If you’re even thinking about getting a passport you should do it now! Those things take like four years to get back. They’re like the Olympics. If you want to go abroad for your honeymoon, you should file for one before you even fall in love.”

Making matters worse was that, according to my wife, who heard it on “The Today Show,” the government shutdown had set back things like passports for months. Maybe years. Decades? One day of government production = six months civilian time, I guess.

Still, I figured it was better to at least try to renew then let it expire and get deported because I had nothing current to show Sheriff Joe. So I went about renewing my passport, which is a super fun thing to do when you have no imminent travel plans because your two girls can’t handle Safeway, much less Australia.

Speaking of super fun, having the Department of State website gently guide you through the process is a virtual obstacle course of silly hijinks: Fill out form D/SS2343 if you are renewing. If first time application or if you plan to travel with bags use form D/SS2343J, which MUST be obtained in person at participating government branch (lone participating branch in Gainesville, Fla). Use the checklist—if anything is missing from application you WILL be arrested for treason. STAPLE PHOTO VERTICALLY OR DEMOCRACY ENDS. I have a dang bachelor’s degree and I’m 100 positive my renewal application is going to be returned stamped “Fail.”

Also, guess how much it is to renew your passport? Seriously, just take a guess. Ha, ha, wrong! It’s $110. One hundred and ten dollars. For a dinky passport book! You can publish and distribute a series of children’s books for less than that. I actually cannot afford to travel now because of the cost of the documentation that allows me to do so.

And you have to mail it out with, according to the website, a “device tracking service.” I told the guy at the post office I needed one of those and without looking up he just stamped something and asked me if any liquids were in my flat, manila envelope.And I owed him $7.87.

Oh, and you also have to get your picture taken. While driving the girls to and from various things last Saturday, I hurriedly stopped in Walgreens to have my updated passport photo taken. The kind woman excitedly asked, “So, where are you going?”

“Nowhere,” I said. “I am going … nowhere.”

She specifically told me not to smile because, I guess, the government frowns on smiling. Then, this happened:

Booked on charges of wanting
to go to Europe one day

That picture cost me $11.99 plus tax.

Thank God this will just be sitting in a fireproof box when it gets here in six years.

Note: This column appears in the 12/5 issue of The Glendale Star and the 12/6 issue of the Peoria Times.

Wednesday, November 27, 2013

Spam email of the week

Subject: There is something I wanted to share with you..

Okay. That's pretty much implied when you send someone an email. Nevertheless!

If I were u I would never tell to any of friends that such a girl is
writing to u because she really makes mouths water!


And we're off! Here is me talking to my friends, trying to withhold this valuable information.

T-Mac: ... And then we made out all night! She was so hot! Like from a magazine or something. Hey Coop - toss me a brewskie, will ya'? All this talk about hot chicks is making me thirsty. For beer.

Me: That's a good one, T-Mac. Well, pretty good, I guess.

T-Mac: Hey man, whaddya mean "pretty good?"

Coop: Yeah, sounds like you got somethin' to say, K-Dawg ...

Me: Nah, it's nothing. She just ... didn't want me to say anything.

T-Mac: Oh that's bs, man! Cough up the goods, K-dawg - your with "The Crew," and you remember our motto?

Everyone: "Don't keep secrets from your bros, especially about hot chicks."

Me: Alright, alright ... she's gonna kill me, but here goes: This chick, right? She wrote to me. On email. Said she makes mouths water.

T-Mac: Whoa! She sounds hot ... TO THE MAX!

Me: I know, right?

Coop: Then what?

Me: That's it. I haven't read the rest of the email yet.

T-Mac: Wait, why didn't she want you to tell us that she makes mouths water?

Me: I don't know, probably because you guys would like, try to steal her or something.

T-Mac: What? Pfft. That's ridonk, bro! This is The Crew! We never - hey, where's Coop?

Me: Oh snap, he's trying to log on to my email! THAT'S MY GIRL, COOP!

I'm Glinda and I'm such a hot girl, u know)

Well, I don't know for sure. But I'm going to take your word for it because all this seems totes legit, GLINDA.

I have seen your profile page and I liked it, so I decided to write to you!
I wanna know you better. Probably we could make smth out, who knows?


Who knows? Maybe we will get married and have five children and your mom can move in with us when she gets dementia.

How did you guys meet?

Oh, me and Glinda? Well ... do you wanna tell, honey? Okay, I'll tell. Glinda here found a picture of me on the Internet and sent me an email saying that she is hot and makes guys mouths water. Ha, ha, she was kind of a weird slut. But there was something there ... some kind of connection. So a couple weeks later I met her in the food court of the mall and I soon discovered that she was okay looking, I guess, so we made something out of it. And here we are! How about you guys?

I forgot to tell you about myself.

You did! Luckily there's still time, since you're writing an email.

So, I am 26 and I work for one
pretty big retailer firm as a office manager. I'm 5'4, brown haired
with amazing breasts)


Welp, that's pretty much all I need to know. Here is my checklist for the perfect woman:
  • 5'4"
  • named after a character from the Land of Oz
  • works for pretty big retailer (not too big like JC Penney, but not too small like some mom and pop nonsense)
  • confident
  • amazing breasts, obvs
  • adorably thinks a closing parenthesis is a smiley face because she is a moron
  • brown hair
I guess it's the time for you to write smth)

I guess so, huh? Well here goes:

I am 35, happily married, have two girls who basically have special needs, and I make a decent living (zero dollars, annually) making fun of spam emails. I, too, make mouths water ... when I make my special mac n' cheese dinner. Also I have periodontal disease, maybe. My name is Scarecrow.

Tuesday, November 26, 2013

Black Friday: Dividing the great country Columbus founded

I think the most divisive American holiday is Black Friday. Even more divisive than Columbus Day, whose namesake people are just now realizing was maybe not very nice. Possibly Black Friday could be renamed Columbus Day since Columbus had a black heart and also bought commodities (9-year-old girls, natives) at a discount. Please call your congressman if you agree.

Oh, what’s that? Black Friday isn’t a holiday? Well, most people have off from work and you can buy a new mattress with no payments for 12 months so … it’s a holiday.

Like many, I had always assumed the “black” in Black Friday represented the sheer awfulness of the experience of going out and shopping that day. Who can forget the brave woman who lost her foot in the double sliding doors of Sears back in ’94? Probably a lot of people since it never happened, but still. It happened.

But recent years have beaten us over the head with the fact that the black signifies how stores go from red into black on this day, financially speaking. I think it was John D. Rockefeller himself who defined capitalism as “when retailers can bleed money for months and months and get it all back in one day thanks to the unofficial start of a shopping season that commemorates Christ’s birth.” God bless America.

No doubt it is our duty to help produce corporate profit, and there are two types of Americans: those who love to shop on Black Friday and those who have jobs and/or families and/or a sense of perspective. And it’s not like the latter group shirks its responsibility as Americans since Cyber Monday allows them to get their shopping done the old fashioned way—while at work.

Judging from my earlier statement re: sheer awfulness of the experience of going out and shopping that day, you can guess which camp I fall into. But even my wife who, when you compliment something she is wearing will respond not with a thank you but by saying, “Guess how much I paid? Seriously, take a guess,” resides safely with me on the side of common sense. It is from this side we watch in awe the footage of people shopping at 5 a.m. or even midnight, and realize the side of common sense is the overwhelming minority.

I will not judge the other side. Although I will because like I said, it’s a divisive holiday. I think it’s neat-o to take advantage of a day off by waking up earlier than you would have if you had to go to work just so you can go fight to spend money alongside an army of like-minded and aggressive humans. Plus parking lots are always fun. It’s like, who wants to be having a relaxing pancake breakfast with their family when they could be jostling for position in a Walmart checkout line? Not me, that’s who.

Someone from this species once said to me, “But that is our family bonding experience, my daughter and I get up super early every year to shop on Black Friday … it’s our tradition!” I certainly can’t argue with that, although it should be mentioned this family’s Fourth of July tradition is setting off fireworks in each other’s pants.

Truth be told, our family does have one great Black Friday retail-related memory. Some years back, Target was promoting its Black Friday sale by allowing online users to set up pre-recorded wake-up calls from celebrities. My wife and I thought this was super dumb, so obviously we went online and set the service up to call my sister Jill at 4 a.m. Black Friday morning. The list of celebrity voices was thin, so we chose Kermit the Frog.

As we sat at the table eating breakfast, we asked Jill if she received any weird calls that morning. “Actually yeah,” she said, “Kermit the Fr—” and then she was struck by the ridiculousness of her own words and realized what had happened. Had she actually heeded Kermit the Frog’s advice, we never would have been able to share the laugh we did that morning.

It was the best Columbus Day ever!

(Did that work? No? Darn.)

 FUN!

Note: This column appears in the 11/27 issue of The Glendale Star and 11/29 BLACK FRIDAY issue of the Peoria Times.

Monday, November 25, 2013

The creeper

We were sleeping soundly, my wife and I, one recent weekend morning. It was pitch black, the sun still seemingly hours away from rising. It was a blissful moment of much-needed rest that was interrupted by my wife’s panicked scream.

AHHHHHHHHH!

I popped my head up fast and, although my eyes were still groggy and adjusting to my surroundings, I immediately saw the source of my wife’s terror. It was a haunting silhouette of a child next to my wife’s side of the bed, her head eerily illuminated by the light coming from the monitor that we keep nearby which looks into the girls’ room. My heart skipped a beat, and for a brief moment I wondered if we were in the middle of some demented, Children of the Corn-esque horror movie. The shadowy child said nothing, but looked on, stoic, undeterred by our panic.

Finally she spoke, undoubtedly, I figured, to reveal some demented clue that may help us escape a terrible fate—“Seek the medallion from the evil jester in three midnights or beware, beWAAAAARE!”—before disappearing completely.

“I want to get in your bed,” the child whispered ominously.

“What the … NO!” my wife, her heart still beating a mile a minute, bravely and defiantly said to the mysterious figure.

Silence as the apparition pondered her next move. Then:

“I have to go poop.”

Friday, November 22, 2013

Facebook meme of the day


YOU TELL 'EM LADY WITH A MOP AND BUCKET

PEOPLE SAY I CAN'T TALK ABOUT POOP CAUSE I'M "35"

PFFT

POOP BE STANKIN' AMIRITE?

BOUT TO GO RIDE THE SLIDE AT MCDONALD'S PLAYLAND

"OUTTA THE WAY KIDS THIS MAKES ME HAPPY AND I'M NOT HURTING ANYONE"

"EXCEPT LIL DUDE O'ER THERE, MY BAD PLAYA - DIDN'T MEAN TO KICK YOU IN THE DOME"

THIS LADY BE LIKE, "I'M ONLY 29 BUT I CAN BE AN OLD MAID IF IT MAKES ME HAPPY"

I BET SHE ABOUT TO CLEAN UP SOME POOP LOL

ACTUALLY JUST DID SOME RESEARCH AND IT SAYS WE HAVE TO ACT OUR AGE IN THE CONSTITUTION

SO ERRRBODY JUST CHILL OUT, YOU CAN'T ALWAYS BELIEVE THESE MEMES

PLEASE FORGIVE THE POOP JOKES BOUT TO GO WRITE OUT A MORTGAGE CHECK OR SOMETHIN'

Thursday, November 21, 2013

Spam email of the week

Subject: Re: Web Design & Development

Okay, right off the bat I want to mention that this spam email is not interesting or funny in any way EXCEPT that it is:

From: Akon

 Hi,

HI AKON

  Hope you are well.

HOPE YOU ARE WELL TOO AKON

                          I just wanted to check if you had received my last mails sent.

OH NO! I haven't received any prior emails from you, Akon. What's up with that? I feel like I definitely would have remembered if I received an email from Senegalese American R&B and hip-hop recording artist Akon. (checks junk email folder) Nope. Nothing. I guess it's lost in cyberspace, huh, Akon? LOL. Seriously though I feel bad about this, like we're off on the wrong foot.

        Haven't heard back from you, just wondering if you are interested in our services.

I am DEFINITELY interested in your services. I want you to sing at my birthday party. Is that what this is about?

Do let me know if you are interested and I would be happy to share you more details about our past work details, client testimonials and price list.

THANKS AKON

"He is good at singing choruses and also at web development." - Gwen Stefani

"When we collaborated on 'Sexy Bitch,' he was nice." -
David Guetta

                                         Looking forward for your positive response.

It's YOUR positivity that's contagious, Akon. I feel like this is the start of a lifelong business and also personal relationship. As such I would like you to redesign my website and also to be my best friend and I will be in all your music videos drinking champagne and actin' the fool because I have made so much money thanks to my site redesign. If you feel like that's a great idea let's shake on it.



Tuesday, November 19, 2013

Five hundred family pictures please, and hold the cheese

It wasn’t like I actively fought against having family pictures taken—it was actually never discussed. My wife and I share a distaste for all things cheesy, so I assumed she found the idea of professional family pictures as cheesy as I did. Then one day a couple weeks ago she was like, “We’re having our pictures taken Saturday,” and handed me a hot pink necktie.

Darn.

When I think of family pictures, two things immediately come to mind. The first is walking into someone’s house and seeing a humongous family portrait over the fireplace where the family is dressed in all white and laughing pleasantly as they walk along a white sandy beach during an apparent dream sequence. Who could ever compete with such a clear representation of Caucasian happiness?

“Welcome to our home. You know this is really our home because that is our family above the fireplace, see? I trust you and your family have had similar blissful experiences ... ”

“Uh, actually we had to stop at a gas station bathroom on the way here because this one (points sideways with thumb to daughter) threw up fish tacos on her new shirt.”

The second thing that comes to mind are mailers from dentists. You never get a mailer from a dentist that is just a picture of the dentist like, “Hello, I am a dentist. Trust me.” It’s always like, “I am a dentist, and this is my wife Emily and my eight beautiful girls who are maybe all receiving Communion today? Also my mother-in-law Barb, her cat Sparkle, etc., etc. My point is that we are super good-looking and also I do root canals.”

Having no fireplace and not being a dentist, I thought we were in the clear. But apparently adopting daughter No. 2 prompted the need to capture photographic evidence that we are a functioning, well-dressed family unit. Considering I’d be the only male represented in this shoot (the dog wasn’t invited, for some reason), it was safe to assume the theme wouldn’t be baseball.

We met outside of Sunrise Mountain Library. The photographer’s sister/assistant took all the girls inside to do their hair while the photographer was nice enough to shoot some professional headshots of me. The (only) cool thing about being a writer is that you can have professional headshots done and it’s not weird or narcissistic. Curious library patrons looked on as I did various (sexy) poses and thought to themselves, who is that guy? Afterwards I was like, “You probably didn’t recognize me because I’m taller in person, but I’m Mike, publications manager for The Glendale Star. Who wants an autograph?”*

Now we were almost ready for the family shoot, and the photographer asked if I could help her get the props out of her car.

Props?

Ten minutes later I was sitting under a tree, in a canopy, wearing a pink boa and pretending to have a tea party with my two daughters. Flustered by the whole experience, I ended up fake pouring creamer into the sugar bowl, which was embarrassing, as if this was my first tea party or something.

Only two hours later, the shoot was done. Admittedly, it was fun, and the pictures came out great and not at all cheesy, all things considered. Afterwards we all, while still dressed similarly in our photo shoot attire, went out for Chinese food. Everybody probably thought I was a famous dentist or something, which probably explains why we got our fortune cookies for free.

*no one, apparently

Note: This column appears in the 11/21 issue of The Glendale Star and the 11/22 issue of the Peoria Times.

Oh, and here it is: 




Friday, November 15, 2013

Facebook meme of the day


ONE OF MY FLAWS IS THAT SOMETIMES I NEGLECT TO USE APOSTROPHES.

THATS JUST ME YALL.

JOIN ME WHILE I GAZE OUT ONTO SELF-AFFIRMATION MOUNTAIN.

STUPID ASS MOUNTAIN BE THINKING IM SOMEBODY ELSE - DEAL WITH MY IMPERFECTIONS YOU BIG PILE OF ROCKS.

YOU DONT LOVE ME.

GOT A SCAR ON MY LEG FROM TRYIN TO CLIMB SELF-AFFIRMATION MOUNTAIN BACK IN '05.

GOT A SCAR ON MY HEART FROM WHEN THE SHERPA I FELL IN LOVE WITH WAS LIKE DAMN YOU TALK TOO MUCH I'M OUT.
.
THAT'S AIIIIIGHT THOUGH TRUE LOVE WILL FIND ME

IM OVER HERE TRUE LOVE, JUST FOLLOW THE SCENT OF FEBREZE.

I GOT 99 PROBLEMS BUT PLEASE SEE PAST THEM SO I'M NOT ALONE.

IM JUST ME.

THESE ARE DAVE'S WORDS OF WISDOM NOT MINE.

DAVE BE MAD WISE, YO. DAVE FIND ME IN THE COMMENTS I LEFT MY NUMBER AND MEASUREMENTS.

Thursday, November 14, 2013

Spam email of the week

Subject: get high quality cheap price brand t-shirt shoes from here

What are t-shirt shoes? I want t-shirt shoes.

Dear sir,

Have a good day there.


Thanks, chief. Go ahead and have a good there yourself, okay champ? Keep on truckin'. And hey, big guy over there - have yourself a good day too, why doncha. I'm handin' out good day wishes like lollipops over here ... feeling good about things. Where were we? Are we done? Is that the end of the email? I never found out about the t-shirt shoes.

Our company sell high quality cheap price brand items.

Might wanna go ahead and proofread your work there, big fella. No biggie for me though, I'm just a regular Joe like you, and I like the cut of your jib. I'm buying what you're selling. What are you selling?

Such as A&F Polo Armani Burberry Coogi Lacoste Ed Hardy Gucci Louis Vuitton Style Guess Versace Tommy Prada clothing

They got these things called "commas" now, you should check 'em out when you get a hot minute. They're real good at separating objects and thoughts and stuff. Again, no problem for me, a lunchpail, hardhat type of fella. Anyway, this all sounds reeeaaaaaal nice. Been trying to get a Coogi cardigan on the cheap for some time now, plus I'd love to get the ol' ball and chain a nice Hardy Gucci dress. I watch Project Runway.

Jordan Woman Jordan Burberry Dolce Gabbana Ed Hardy Gucci Nike Free Nike Women Sneakers Nike Man Puma Prada Kids UGG Boot Vans shoes Welcome to check our site for more information.

Take a breath, big fella. Deeeeep breath. You good? Good. Me too. Listen - I was as skeptical as anyone when Michael Jordan teamed up with Jordin Sparks and then they both teamed up with Burberry to create a line of women's faux fur hats. But I've seen the results, and the results are fantastic. Put me down for three of those. And throw some Puma Prada Kids on there, too. YOLO.

We provide best service Quality:AAA Payment : Money Gram ,Western Union
Distribution: Sodexi, TNT, FedEx, EMS, UPS (Drop ship , mix order are accepted.)


Me: Yes, hi, I'd like to pay for these Nike Free Nike Women Sneakers Nike with my AAA card.

Cashier: Ooooh, I'm so sorry, sir, but that's not a thing.

Me: Oh. (puts card back in wallet) Do you accept money gram?

Cashier: Of course! And how would you like these shipped? May I recommend TNT?

Me: Wait - does that mean Rizzoli & Isles will personally deliver these?

Cashier: Yes, sir. Yes it does.

Me: Oh word is bond.

Tuesday, November 12, 2013

Was it all a dream? Surgery-related texts from mom

When my phone buzzed just before 5 a.m. Monday morning, I knew it was someone from my family back East since they never consider the time zone difference when texting. (The flood of annual 4 a.m. texts makes for something other than a happy birthday.)

Half asleep, I fumbled for my phone and sure enough, it was my mom. The text—which she somehow duplicated to come through twice, classic mom—read, “Dad’s in recovery, everything went well!”

Great, I thought as I put the phone down and attempted to enjoy another five minutes of sleep before my alarm went off. That’s a relief.

Wait, what?

In a familiar scenario as it pertains to my family, I had no idea what my mom was talking about. Did my dad just have surgery? What kind of surgery? Did I know about this? I definitely did not know about this. Was it all a dream?

Granted, it had been more than a week since I had spoken to my parents, but I felt like I would have remembered if, when we last spoke, they had mentioned that my dad was, ya’ know, going under the knife. Of course, the running joke is that my parents will run the gamut of useless information during conversations—what appetizer they shared at the restaurant; the status of the new roof construction at their local church; the time, date and location of the upcoming root canal of their next door neighbor (maybe I could send a card)—and somehow avoid dispensing information that could be considered a crucial part of family dialogue. I could talk to my dad for 45 minutes about who the Yankees should play at third base, and then I’ll talk to my sister the next day and she’ll say, “So I guess dad told you I started my own company … ”
I texted my mom back, “That’s great, but ummm … recovery from WHAT?”

She responded, “Remember he had the fissure in his behind?”

If I could tangibly capture, embrace, and have bronzed the one thing that most accurately encompasses life in the Kenny family, it would be the words, Remember he had the fissure in his behind? received pre-dawn on a Monday morning. The oldest living Kenny would hold onto these words, keeping them in a hidden location in a fireproof box, and then symbolically pass them down to the next generation of Kennys from his/her deathbed.

She continued, “Dad said we must have told you when the kids were arguing in the back seat, haha! Anyway, he’s fine, pain hasn’t kicked in yet, he’ll be home for a few days.”

Believe me I have been known to forget important things, especially when they’re told to me over the phone while I’m driving and two girls are singing “On Top of Spaghetti” at the top of their lungs from the back seat, but I still had no recollection of receiving such information. I pictured my dad the previous evening, looking anxiously at his phone and finally saying, “Welp, never heard from Mike to wish me luck on my anal fissure surgery. Guess I’ll turn in and hope for the best tomorrow.” And I felt really bad.

Did I forget/wasn’t listening, or was I never told? It didn’t really matter, I figured, the important thing was that the pain hadn’t kicked in yet. So there was still time?

I called my dad that evening to see how he was doing and to express my regret. I told him there was only one way for me to make it up to him, and that’s to do the only thing I know how to do. “Dad, I’ll write about this. That way everyone will know I didn’t wish you well before your anal fissure surgery, and also that you had anal fissure surgery.” He didn’t respond. The pain had kicked in.

Actually, did I really say that? I don’t remember. Was it all a dream? I guess we’ll find out when he reads this.

Note: This column appears in the 11/14 issue of The Glendale Star and the 11/15 issue of the Peoria Times.

Thursday, November 07, 2013

Spam email of the week

Subject: Can I Please Pay You?

Yes.

I am offering an ad with unlimited earning potential.

Well HELLO to you, too. Sheesh. No manners. Back in my day spam emails always began with a pleasant greeting before getting down to business. Spam emails these days ... they don't even ask how my penis is doing anymore. Anyway, I'm in. Where do I sign?

This ad has the ability to earn more money than any of your flat rate ads.

I have a question: Who is placing this ad, you or me? How much money are my flat rate ads earning and how do you know that? What is a flat rate ad? Whodunnit? Is this about that thing?

Our advertising offer:

1.       We pay you monthly.


Again, I am not sure what is happening, but I accept.

2.       We provide you with a unique coupon code.

How unique? I want my coupon code to be this:



MOIST *765

3.       We pay you 15% of every transaction that uses your unique coupon code in our online shopping cart.

I still honestly don't know if you are trying to sell me something or aggressively informing me that we are already in business together.

6.       People will be encouraged to use your  unique coupon code, because it permits a 45% shopping cart discount off of the advertised retail prices.

People love coupon codes. People are sheep. HOW DO I GROUPON THIS COUPON CODE IN THE PROMO CODE SECTION? Ha, look at how dumb you sound, sheeple.

7.       You receive $2.47 for every 6 oz jar sold (with your coupon code).

Oh cool I am/you are selling jars? Is there anything in the jars? I like jars with stuff better than empty jars, but hey, you're the boss. Maybe we can put jelly beans in the jars and make people gues-- (gunshot grazes top of head)

We are Dirty Organics and we sell organic coconut oil.

"We are Dirty Organics and we sell organic coconut oil" is the most definitive statement about anything I have ever heard. Also, Dirty Organics is a great name for a company that sells products to be ingested. "Oh, you're dirty? I want to eat whatever you are selling," is what many people are saying all the time.

Our website has approximately 200 articles in our “Product Tips” section, covering a wide range of subjects including: health, love, cooking, massage, skin and hair.

We are Dirty Organics and we sell organic coconut oil. What else would you like to know about love and massages? Our advice is to rub organic coconut oil on the person you'd like to procreate with, and then use more organic coconut oil to cook them sauteed green beans. Also don't forget about health. Please use your dumbass coupon code to earn 45 percent off our dirty jars, thnx, k bye.

Wednesday, November 06, 2013

Facebook meme of the day


"Oh snap, did someone kill your parents like in Batman?"

WHAT? NO I JUST HATE ERRRRBODY FOR VARIOUS INCONSEQUENTIAL REASONS

"For real? Maybe you should get off Facebook for a while and seek some counseling or whatever because you're always sharing memes about killing people, like literally killing people."

PFFT.

FACT OF THE MATTER IS THAT MAD DUDES WOULD BE STRAIGHT DEAD RIGHT NOW IF I WASN'T SO SCARED OF PRISON. GRANTED, PRISON WAS CREATED AS A DETERRENT FOR THINGS LIKE MURDER AND STUFF, SO THIS MEME IS KIND OF JUST REAFFIRMING THE PURPOSE OF A SOCIETAL INSTITUTION, BUT Y'ALL STILL BE HATIN'. IMMA KILL YOU JUST FOR HATIN'. WHERE'S MY GUN? OOPS FORGOT ABOUT PRISON FOR A HOT MINUTE.

I THINK MY STRONG DESIRE TO KILL IS BEST EXEMPLIFIED BY REPUTED MODERN KILLING MACHINE HOMER SIMPSON WIT A GUN TO YO' FACE. MY FAVORITE QUENTIN TARANTINO MOVIE IS THE ONE WHERE HOMER SIMPSON KILLS SAMUEL L. CLARKSON AT THE END. I HAVE A GOOD GRASP OF POP CULTURE AND ITS IDENTIFIABLE PERSONALITIES.

"GO AHEAD MAKE MY DAY, YIPPIE KAY-YAY AND ALSO HASTA LA VISTA, TERMINATOR." - HOMER SIMPSON IN "KILL BILL VOL: DEAD"

"DOH!" - RAMBO IN "RAMBO: MARGE GETS A NEW DRESS"

Tuesday, November 05, 2013

Weekend morning in the fall – a dramatization

Here is a dramatization of me cooking Trader Joe’s pumpkin pancakes on a weekend morning in the fall.

Who wants pumpkin pancakes? Yes, I AM a good father. Babe, clear the kitchen and hold all my calls.

What? No, this recipe doesn’t call for eggs. Trust me, it doesn’t. Fine, I’ll double-check, but I’m telling you ... (checks box) … you’ve got to be kidding me. This must be a different kind of mix than I remember. We have eggs, right? (checks refrigerator) I’ll be right back.

(25 minutes later)

Who wants pumpkin pancakes?

Babe, when it says milk, I can use rice milk, right? What do you mean “at my own risk?” What’s the difference? Well I would have gotten milk at the store if I realized I needed it. Because I stopped reading the box after I saw “one egg,” that’s why. Whatever.

Babe, how do you use this double-sided measuring thingee again? Which side is for liquids and which side is for solid—PANCAKE MIX SPILL, arg! Someone get the dog out of here.

(10 minutes later)

Okay, LET’S DO THIS.

The last time I did this it didn’t make enough pancakes, but two batches was too much. I think I’m just going to pro-rate the recipe. How do you do half an egg? What? Pfft, whatever.

Egg crackin’ time!

Oops.

Let’s try again.

My bad.

Let’s try again.

Seriously, how do people do this?

That’s a lot of shell. Babe, what do you use to get the shell parts out?

This butter is too hard to mix, better microwave it. (opens microwave, door handle breaks off) What the … ? Babe, who broke the microwave?

GET OUT OF THE KITCHEN, GIRLS.

This mix looks kind of runny—do you think it’s because of the rice milk? What do you mean “told you so?” You said it would be fine. (adds more pancake mix) Fixed it!

I know you’re hungry, girls, but what can I tell you? Pumpkin pancakes don’t grow on trees.

Okay, they’re looking good on the griddle. This one here looks ready for a flippin’ … (flips it over, it breaks in half and splatters all over counter) … I seriously think I am going to have an emotional breakdown.

(20 minutes later)

Breakfast I mean lunch is ready!

What’s the matter, babe? Well I wouldn’t have made so many if I realized you weren’t that hungry. Yeah, they’re a little dry, but that’s why God invented syrup.

What about you, girls? Do you like your pumpkin pancakes? Good, I’m so happy you’re not yet old enough to determine whether or not something tastes good. By the time you are, I’ll have this down pat. Promise.

Yes, we can still go to the park, after your mom helps me clean up. (we look at trail of destruction left behind in kitchen) What? I made breakfast!





Note: This column appears in the 11/7 issue of The Glendale Star and the 11/8 issue of the Peoria Times.

Friday, November 01, 2013

Facebook meme of the day


MY DANG KID TRIED TO LIE TO ME AND TELL ME SHE WASHED HER HANDS AFTER DROPPIN A DUECE BUT I WAS LIKE HOLD UP - I CHANNELED MY INNER BUGS BUNNY AND SMELLED HER HANDS AND WAS LIKE, YOU DIDN'T WASH GIRL, GET BACK IN THERE!

HERE IS MY LIST OF PEOPLE RENOWN FOR FINDING SH*T OUT:

-MIKE WALLACE
-J EDGAR HOOVER
-THE KID FROM GOONIES
-BUGS BUNNY

IN NO PARTICULAR ORDER CAUSE BUGS IS NO. 1 OBVS.

THIS MEME DONE NAILED IT, LET'S SEE WHAT THE NORMAL PEOPLE WHO TOOK TIME OUT OF THEIR BUSY SCHEDULES TO COMMENT ON THIS MEME HAD TO SAY:


MY FAVORITE THING TO DO AFTER FINDING SH*T OUT BUGS BUNNY STYLE IS TO ORDER BLACK PEPPER SPICES. HOLD UP, 'BOUT TO CHEW ON THIS INVESTIGATIVE CARROT AND FIND OUT IF ESOKAAGRICPRIDUCT IS LEGIT.

YEP IT BE LEGIT. PUTTIN' SOME BLACK PEPPER SPICE ON MY SOUP RIGHT NOW, HOMEBOY. FIGURE IT OUT.

Thursday, October 31, 2013

Spam email of the week

Subject: From ms Juliet.

Hi Ms. Juliet.. That is cool how you have a period in your name like the band FUN.. Let's set the world on fire, we can grow brighter than the sun with this email. I feel inspired. Also I hate that song and I hate you.

Hi Let me inform yu my desire to establish in your country through your help.

I learned about Juliet in high school English but Juliet doesn't know high school English HA HA HA HA HA that is a joke I just thought of, top of the head. Just keepin' it real, not trying to offend anyone here. But seriously you seem like a moron. What's up?

Although we do not know, there is this amount $6.5 my father deposit in BANK before he was killed.

Let's break this beauty down.

Although we do not know,

Although we do not know WHAT?

Here are some things I do not know, in addition to why you used the phrase "Although we do not know":

-WHAT IS GOING ON

That is the list.

there is this amount $6.5 my father deposit

Oh snap, pops was rolling with six fiddy? Let's withdraw that fundage and buy a Chipotle burrito.

in BANK

Sounds like a cool bank! BANK BANK BANK. This six dollars and fifty cents is burning a hole in my pocket ... what to do? Why don't you deposit it in BANK? Great idea! Here you go, BANK. Now I'll just sit back and let the interest accumulate, and feel safe knowing my money is in da BANK. BANK! I drive CAR to BANK and I live in HOUSE. I wear SHIRT and PANTS to BANK when I go to BANK.

before he was killed.

Sorry about that.

And it seems to me
Juliet's father lived his life
like a candle in the wind
Never knowin'
Who to cling to
When he went to BANK
And I would have like to 've known him
But I was just a kid
When he made his BANK deposit
And then died in a way that hasn't yet been explained


if you can help me

I feel like I just did, with some closure.

 details

That is the end of the email. ???????????????????????????????????????????????? THANK YOU FOR READING TODAY EVERYONE.

Tuesday, October 29, 2013

For what the future holds, please look elsewhere

One of the themes of the Clint Eastwood-directed Hereafter, starring Matt Damon, is that those with genuine psychic ability can often be reluctant to share it because of how society generally perceives psychics.

As usual, I agree with Clint Eastwood—it can’t be easy to be a psychic. To reference another movie (my entire worldview is based on information I have gathered from movies) just look at how difficult things got for Whoopie Goldberg in Ghost. She almost got murdered by that guy! But she maintained her sense of humor throughout, plus her sense of being psychic. She’s the best, Whoopie Goldberg.

I mean, not only do psychics have to deal with the burden of communication with the supernatural, but they also have to deal with the jokes of commoners like myself: What do you mean you forgot your jacket? You’re a psychic! You should have known about this cold front. LOL. (Seriously though, you should have worn a jacket.)

So psychics have it tough, for sure. However, they don’t do themselves any favors sometimes. For example, when they call me to place a classified ad for their psychic business.

Years back, a psychic advertised in this paper. It was a simple word ad in classifieds, the name of the business and contact information. After it ran for one week, the husband of the psychic called me to complain about how nobody called his wife to have a palm reading, and maybe if we changed the font or whatever, the ad would stand out more.

He went on to explain that I should heed his request because he just had heart surgery. I was like, “I don’t really understand how that is relevant, and we only offer one font for line ads.” This made him very angry and he began yelling about how if business doesn’t improve, he won’t be able to pay his heart surgery bills, and the anger he was experiencing at that very moment was not helping his heart. Or his knee, because he also just had knee surgery.

Eventually I was forced to say, “Thank you for your passion and health updates, but I am pretty sure we are not going to run your ad anymore because the hassle of you being a jerkhead is not worth the $10 you tried to spend. Your card was declined.”

Apparently, psychic businesses had a long, storied history of being a pain in the butt and also not paying for ads. The sad part is people like this give legit psychics like Long Island Medium and Whoopie Goldberg a bad name. Anyway, I was unaware that because of this, we actually had a loose policy of not placing psychic ads in our papers. Now I knew, but I never had to impose that policy because I went years without getting a similar call.

By the time I did last week, my stance had softened, mainly because I had seen Hereafter. I shouldn’t be so hard on psychics—they don’t have it easy. (As a note: I do wholeheartedly believe in the legitimacy of psychic ability, so there.) So I heard her out.

She called many, many times. Can I tell her the price again? She only wanted the ad in the Peoria Times because she had a problem with a psychic in Glendale and didn’t want to escalate things by advertising “on her turf.” PSYCHIC BEEF. The ad was only like four lines, but she’d call back repeatedly to change wording that made absolutely no difference. Also, what was the price again?

I was just about to give up when she agreed to commit and give me her payment info. I waited on hold as she fumbled through various things, telling me she couldn’t find her credit card. I was like, “What do you mean you can’t find your credit card? You’re a psychic!” I didn’t actually say that.

Finally, she found it. The exorbitant amount of time spent on this 15-word ad would finally pay off.

The card was declined.

My point is that we are officially no longer placing psychic ads in our paper. Sorry, everyone who wants to know their future :( But that is our policy, from hereafter.

 "They ... they wouldn't let me place a classified ad."

Note: This column appears in the 10/31 issue of The Glendale Star and the 11/1 issue of the Peoria Times.

Facebook meme of the day


SO TRUE SO TRUE

MAD IS DIFFERENT THAN SAD

YOU MAD BRO?

NO I'M SAD

I AIN'T MAD ATCHA (TUPAC)

I'M SAD ATCHA (ME)

WHERE YOU GOIN', BOAT?

GOT ME OUT HERE IN MY NIGHTGOWN LOOKING LIKE SOME WHITE TRASH FLOOZY

HAIR LOOKING LIKE A PANTENE COMMERCIAL THOUGH, FOR REAL

HOPE YOU CATCH A LOT OF FISH YOU GOOD-FOR-NOTHING DIRTBAG

/BOAT BLOWS FOGHORN/

OH YEAH? /HOLDS UP TWO MIDDLE FINGERS/

THAT'S THE SAD TALKIN'

Friday, October 25, 2013

Great Moments in Rap History

I was a fan of Jeru the Damaja in the 90s, but hey, weren't we all? As Americans?

Anyhoo, in 1996, Jeru released "Wrath of the Math," a solid album thanks largely to the production of DJ Premier, although Jeru could hold his own lyrically. Kind of. He liked to (using this particular track as an example) use scientific terms like ferromagnetic, and drop names of random historical figures like Gwong Jan Lin, although I always questioned the broadness of his knowledge base on such subjects. (i.e.) It was more likely they simply made for more interesting verse than rhyming Rolex with Lexus, which doesn't even rhyme.

One track on the album was called "Whatever." It was about: whatever. Here is today's great moment in rap history:

Freak on the mic, but not sexual
Call me unalike cause my rhymes are never homo
Make you sad, like when Cher left Sonny Bono

Fire burn Giuliani, Pataki and Cuomo

Let's break it down.

Freak on the mic, but not sexual

"Regardless of how well I am rapping, I will not stick this microphone up my butt." - Jeru the Damaja

Call me unalike cause my rhymes are never homo

Okay, so Jeru wasn't the first and won't be the last rapper to drop a homophobic line. Following up his promise to not stick a microphone up his butt with the proclamation that his "raps are not gay" - whatever that means - probably falls somewhere near the bottom of the offensiveness totem pole, if only for sheer predictability. But what follows that is of great interest.

Make you sad, like when Cher left Sonny Bono

When the history books are written, I hope they pay special attention to the time Jeru the Damaja boasted of his raps not being gay, and then - literally in the very next line - referenced one of the greatest gay icons in American pop culture. Here are some observations:

How many of Jeru the Damaja's fans were genuinely sad when Cher left Sonny Bono, which happened in 1975? (And yes, I had to Google "what year did Cher leave Sonny." I am at work.) This is something I have legitimately pondered for the purposes of this blog post, and my conclusion is: zero people.

Also, why was this sad? If we believe Cher's assertion that Sonny (RIP) was not a great husband and a womanizer, then shouldn't we be happy for Cher and her newly liberated life? Or was it sad in the sense of lost idealism, like when a short male entertainer marries a tall female entertainer and everyone assumes they're going to make it work? I am confused.

Lost in all this - "Make you sad" ... is that boasting? Braggadocio? Like, yo, I am the saddest rapper out there, no one can match my sadness. I will make you seriously depressed and what not, with the sadness I induce. TANGENT: This is one of my biggest issues with rap, when it's impossible to accept the premise, and the ensuing metaphor (or simile) becomes just a metaphor for metaphor's sake. To wit: There is a Redman line off a track on the New Jersey Drive soundtrack from the mid 90s where he claims to "throw more balls than Dan Marino." And it's like okay, yeah, Dan Marino throws a lot of balls, because he is a quarterback. But how does that relate to you, Redman, throwing balls? What does "throw balls" mean? Is that slang? It is no slang I have ever heard. Do you throw testicles? That is gross, Redman. You are gross.

Fire Burn Giuliani, Pataki and Cuomo

Oh okay.

To recap:

"I am not gay.
"My raps are not gay.
"That was sad when Cher left Sonny.
"I hope the entire New York establishment dies in a fire."

This has been "Great Moments in Rap History."

Thursday, October 24, 2013

Spam email of the week

Subject: I am the one

Cool. I've been looking for you?

Hello there How are you doing?

I am doing great, thanks for asking! I can already tell you are "the one" by your friendly opening greeting. The prophetic scrolls of Babylon say of The One that we "shall recognize him by his kindness and random capitalization."

I enjoy most of your user profile.

I'm sorry ... most? What part of my user profile DON'T you like? Honestly I haven't updated that thing in years - there's a good chance I put something on there that I thought was funny and witty at the time, and am now embarrassed by. Actually I just checked and my Google+ (LOL) profile pic is me making a duck face while ironically wearing a Sugar Ray trucker hat, and one of my hobbies is "keeping it real." Yikes. I will edit my user profile to your liking, and then let's reassess our relationship.

Are you interested to see my own personal photos?

Ummm, sure, I guess? I hadn't really thought about seeing your personal photos, but yeah, okay. Please send me a photo where you are riding a roller coaster and the camera catches your reaction just as the coaster descends, ha, ha! I love those. You probably look so scared and vulnerable. Also one where you are naked except for snow boots and you're licking grape jelly off a bathroom floor.

E-mail me at ponikaroyv@pisem.net and i'll respond back with my private photos.

I just realized my Blogger user profile pic is me from Little League, so maybe you are a pedophile?

Nah, I trust you, you seem cool and normal. The way you seamlessly transitioned from a backhanded and unfounded compliment to an invitation to view your pornography has put me at ease. Here goes:

Dear ponikaroyv,

It's me, from the email. Please send me your private (sexy) pics, thanks. Actually, hold on ... I'm getting another email ...


Subject: Greetings and Salutations!

Thanks!

Good day How are you currently doing?

I am doing great, currently. Ten minutes ago I was upset because no one was asking me to email them for sexy, private pics, but then I heard from "the one," a.k.a. ponikaroyv, a.k.a. "Naughty" at otofiiho@joyceandjim.co.uk, so things are looking up for me.

I enjoy your page.

Thanks! I know it's kind of silly to write about things like spam emails and baseball cards and colon cleanses, but I'm glad to know people like you enjoy it. I have always loved writing, so your positive feedback gives me great confidence and inspires me to move forward.

Are you wanting to see my own most private pics?

Sure, why not? This must be my lucky day.

E-mail me at ponikaroyv@pisem.net and i am going to respond back with my private pics.

PONIKAROYV! You sly devil ... I was just emailing you, LOL.

*Hat tip to James for the spam ... and the private pics.