They called him King Midas, but he insisted that people call him Bob.
And he was the richest man in the world.
He invested heavily in internet companies, riding the hype until right before the bottom dropped out, moving his money to the companies with actual business plans and sources of revenue.
Then, he started to invest in monkeys.
Pretty soon, his ranch was filled with monkeys of all kinds and sizes.
“Gonna get them to type Shakespeare?” asked a reporter.
“That would be stupid,” said Bob. “Shakespeare’s already written.”
And he pointed at the reporter. “Kill.”
The monkeys obeyed.
Tag: commentary
Axl the Asshole
When did women start throwing panties on stage?
Some say it started with Tom Jones and his Vegas concerts.
Others say it was Wayne Newton, because women would mistake him for Tom Jones.
And still others say it started with Elvis, and panties that ended up on Tom Jones’ or Wayne Newton’s stages were there only because of the unusual updrafts and air currents on The Strip.
But the truth is, it started with Axl Rose.
Not because women were totally in love with him or were enthralled by his music.
No, it’s because he’s such a whiny rockstar pussy.
Bonjour
“Bonjour,” said the butler.
Casey clicked the Language button on his remote.
“Konichiwa,” said the butler.
“Fix the damn thing!” yelled Lisa.
Casey clicked it a few more times, and the butler said “Hello” in ten more languages.
But never “Hello.”
Casey clicked the red button on the remote.
The butler bowed and his eyes rolled up as he shut down.
“Scratched language disk,” said Casey. “Mind if I borrow yours?”
“What?” gasped Lisa.
Casey pointed the remote at her, clicking the red button.
Lisa’s eyes rolled up and she shut down.
You’ll shout much nicer in French, he thought.
Soul Licenses
Deep in the User Agreement for the new software release, Ted slipped the sentence “User agrees to give their soul to Company” into the text.
“This will get people to read it!” he chuckled.
Nobody did, and pretty soon, Ted’s inbox filled up with souls.
The IT Department got pissed at him. “You filled the mail server, Ted! You need to send these back or delete them!”
“I can’t!” moaned Ted. “That would be murder. Or soulacide. Or…”
He resold them to The Devil for pennies on the dollar.
“I was going to get these anyway, just saving me time.”
Unhappy New Year
Due to a logistical error, the Baby New Year ended up in the womb of a crack-smoking teen runaway in Boise, Idaho, and he was born two months premature.
It caught the world completely off guard.
Not only did everything really suck for a while as the unhealthy year struggled to survive inside its incubator, but companies shed hundreds of thousands of jobs because the whole Christmas shopping season was lost.
“We’ll make Valentine’s Day the big shopping day!” they said, but there’s only so many chocolates and edible panties the market can bear.
Here’s hoping next year’s better, friends.
Resolutions List
I look back at last year’s resolutions and wince.
Not a single one accomplished.
Not a single one done.
So, I scratch out the year and write the next one above it.
Just like I did last year.
And the year before.
I guess I’d better update the actual list.
Weight loss. Let’s see.
I scratch out “20” and put in “40.”
Under “Visit Grandma” I change “At the hospital” to “At the cemetery.”
I scratch out “Monthly” and write “On her birthday.”
Wait. When’s her birthday?
I scratch it out again.
Heck, she was senile. She couldn’t remember either.
Predictions
As the year comes to a close and another year begins, some people like to make predictions.
I don’t. Why bother playing guessing games?
What shall we make?
Let’s make things for those who enjoy them.
Let’s make a difference to those who need it.
Let’s make friends, and make them happy, as happy as us.
Let’s make merry and jokes and laugh so others can laugh with us.
Let’s make amends to those we’ve foolishly wronged.
Let’s make every moment count, and make every good moment last.
And, I predict, we will be happier than the ones making predictions.
Nativity
Every December, we drag the Nativity scene out from the basement and assemble it in the front yard.
Problem is, there’s always something missing from it, like Joseph or a camel.
It’s not worth it to buy a new Nativity scene, only being used once a year, so we scrounge for replacements.
Using Grampa Eldon’s old lawn jockey as a replacement Wise Man kinda pissed off the Clevelands next door, although in my defense I did wrap it in Little Janey’s bathrobe and try to paint the face white with Liquid Paper.
Next year, we’ll just make snowmen, okay kids?
Watch The Clock
When Christmas approaches, online retailers see sales skyrocket, and so does the load on their servers.
Those who added memory and processing power, or shifted to scalable cloud solutions are running smoothly.
But others running sloppy code on overloaded old servers are crashing constantly.
And screaming at us in Support.
I look.
The server’s fine. The platform’s fine. The hardware’s fine.
You’re just slamming the crap out of it.
They say they can’t afford to buy upgrades or suffer any downtime, but we have to fix it.
I don’t have a magic wand, I tell them.
And watch the clock.
Vampire Claus
People assume vampires are skinny and wear black, but I know a fat one who wears red and white.
Yes, Santa Claus is a vampire.
The bell-ringers? The mall Santas?
Indentured human servants to scout for healthy and wealthy victims.
You can tell a lot about a person when they sit in your lap.
Their breath. Their fitness. Are their eyes clear or yellow from jaundice?
As the bag full of presents gets lighter, the sleigh and reindeer need ballast.
Those really bad children won’t be missed.
The smart ones make toys, and he calls elves.
The rest, he drinks.