I was told that when I was finished my novel, publishers would be coming out of the woodwork.
I dreamed of publishers, crawling out of the walls… my dresser… the floorboards, reaching for me through the darkness…
I’d wake up screaming, thrashing about.
That’s how the accident happened.
My wife tried to wake me up, and I knocked her down, head hitting the lamp…
The trial was a circus, and I ended up with a 20 year sentence.
I finished my novel in prison.
Publishers aren’t coming out of the woodwork for it.
Good. At least I can sleep now.
Tag: commentary
Dog Suit
You know that show where the guy’s dressed in a dog costume?
Leave it to the networks to take a good thing and ruin it.
Everybody’s wearing dog suits now.
And unlike that show where the guy’s wearing the dog costume, the first show with one, it doesn’t work at all for them.
It’s not the writers or the actors or the directors.
It just doesn’t work. You can’t just Cousin Oliver in a guy in an animal costume and make it work.
Except on the evening news.
But Dianne Sawyer is wearing a catsuit.
Ratings have never been higher.
Ode To A Troll
if i could press
a magical button
and wipe you
from existence
i’d press that button
but
i wouldn’t just press that button
i’d press that button
in style!
there would be a parade
with elephants
and horses
while marching bands played
girls in short skirts
twirling batons on fire
and old men in fezzes
what are they called?
shriners?
shriners!
went around
on those scooters.
and bringing up the rear
a massive cannon
that would fire me across
two football fields
my hand outstretched
smacking that button
and sending your
ugly
disgusting
evil
miserable
vile
obnoxious
ass
to
hell
Disaster Planning
Some experts say that the safest place to be in an earthquake is in a heavily-braced doorframe or in your bathtub.
I disagree.
I prefer to be passed out on my bed, completely oblivious to shit going on all around me.
That way, if I wake up, I’ll wake up to an even worse of a wreck of an apartment with a hangover and wonder if I did all that before passing out.
This is why I drink myself into a stupor every night… it’s disaster planning and preparation.
And, from the looks of things, my plan’s a total success.
Three Laws
Years ago, when I was working at local TV station, we installed robotic camera pedestals.
Over the course of several months, these cameras rammed into various people, causing them injury.
Then they failed to get out of the way, injuring people walking into them.
They regularly went out of control, and then rammed into people.
And failed to “ped down” passing between studios, hitting door jambs. And then, when someone approached the camera, it would “ped down” and clonk them on the head.
I added a quick set of warning labels: “WARNING: THESE ROBOTIC CAMERAS ARE NOT THREE LAWS COMPLIANT.”
Last Call
Joe’s retirement “party” is at the corner bar.
Years of experience catching serial killers, gone to budget cuts.
It was either retire or get fired.
Everybody’s here. Even the goddamned beancounters.
“There was one I never caught,” says Joe. “The Lifetime Supply Killer.”
I remember that case. Guy would send his victims a box of poisoned chocolate bars, telling them they won a lifetime supply of chocolate.
“Kinda funny, really,” said Joe.
The Director calls for a toast. We raise our glasses.
Joe stops me. “It’s a lifetime supply of champagne,” he whispers.
“To Joe!” everyone says.
And he drinks.
The Invention
I started as a chemist, working on cures for diseases and debilitating chronic conditions.
Instead, my research ended up being marketed for food coloring, artificial flavors, and other enhancements for cheap mass-produced foods.
Disgusted, I turned to physics, working on renewable and environmentally-friendly energy generation methods.
To my horror, the technology ended up used to create gaudy and useless toys and gadgets that people would play with for a while, then throw in the trash.
That’s when I gave up, moved to the woods, and bred dogs.
Anyway, that’s my story. So, Mr. Vick, which dogs did you want again?
Help
For the longest time, I used to say that the most powerful key on the keyboard was the F1 key.
F1 is the shortcut to Help for most applications.
Have you used the Help menu recently?
Just search for the topic or ask your question, and Help gives you steps to complete your task.
Or, you can look up tutorials to learn how to use various functions.
With Help, I’ve learned how to do everything I need to do on the computer.
Well, almost everything.
I hit the power key on my laptop, and it shuts down.
(Now that’s powerful.)
Paris Rehab
Remember that cokehead heiress actress chick?
You know, the spoiled bitch who went around with a little dog in her purse?
They checked her into rehab again.
Same old shit:
Get wrecked.
Get headlines.
Get clean.
Get out.
Get wrecked again.
We did our best to get her into Betty Ford, but they put her here.
Shit.
But this time, we tried something new.
We ignored the chick and worked on the dog.
Poor beast was traumatized by all the fast cars, parties, and drugs.
Teacup Chihuahuas shake, but not like this.
We’ll get him adopted.
(But the chick’s hopeless.)
Crazy
Every bench in the park across from City Hall has a homeless person on it.
I feel bad for these lonely and crazy people.
I can’t cure their craziness.
I can’t give them all homes.
But maybe I can make them a little less lonely.
So, I’m petitioning the city to get rid of half of the benches.
That way, instead of each getting their own bench, they have to share them with someone else.
Then they’ll not be lonely anymore. They’ll have someone to sit with.
Why don’t I sit with them?
What do you think I am? Crazy?