Pancake City

It’s difficult to feel intimidated by the words “freezing drizzle”.

The weather forecaster sells it the best that she can. She furrows her brow, lowers her voice, and cautions people to be very, very careful. But it’s like trying to warn someone of a dangerous clown. “Stop laughing! He’s an EVIL clown. His balloon dogs have horns.”

Perhaps if the weather forecaster drew out the ‘freezing’ part and zipped through the ‘drizzle’, the warning would be more effective. “I strongly urge everyone to be extremely careful. There a 30% of fur-ree-zeeeing rzl today.”

“Dad, I have a big favor to ask you. Things are really rough right now. Can I borrow some money?”
“Sure, son. How much do you need?”
“99 billion.”
“WHAT? What do you need 99 billion dollars for?”
“It’s really complicated.”
“This has something to do with those Case and Turner boys, doesn’t it?”
“Dad—“
“I told you not to hang out with them.”
“Look, I don’t need a lecture! I just need 99 billion dollars.”

I called Montgomery College’s bookstore, located in Maryland, a few days ago. The voicemail rattled off a list of choices. Just as I was about to press ‘2′ and miss the opportunity of a lifetime, I heard,

“Press 0 to speak to an automated attendant.”

Automated attendant? A robot! The future is here! I almost ejaculated over my collection of Issac Asimov books. 0, 0, 0!

“There is no automated attendant this time.”

Hold on a minute. Now, I don’t know a lot about robots. But I do know that they work 23/7, with an hour to lube them and to check that they haven’t gone crazy.

Do you see what MC is doing? They’re posing regular employees as robots and, we can deduce, forcing them to talk in stilted voices and wave their arms in a worried manner.

That’s wrong for robots, and even more wrong for non-robots. It’s also something I cannot watch while sitting idly by.

“
Subject: 01000001001000000110001101101111011011010111
00000110110001100001011010010110111001110100
[translate]

Dear Ms. Tammy Shawver,

I recently called your bookstore and was shocked, surprised, saddened, chagrined, flummoxed, and anti-delighted to find that you tease customers with the siren’s call of the future but do not indeed deliver.

I am of course talking about your claim to “Press 0 to speak to an automated attendant”, i.e. a robot. Yet when I pressed 0–repeatedly–the promised robot was not to be found.

I ask you, where is the robot? Where is Tibor, Robby, R2D2, Data, Number 5, Crow T., Gorog, or Vicki? Where is the rigid thinking, the tender humanity? The beeps, the boops, and most of all, the blips.

This is the moment to define yourself. Are you Montgomery College, or Lying About Robots College? Do you have a B.S. in engineering, or a B.A. in BS? Do you have a master’s degree in truth, or an honorary doctorate in deception?

Please employ real robots in your store as soon as possible. Robots are our friends and we should not deny them a place in our society. I AM NOT A NUT. Nuts don’t realize the possibility that they are nuts.

Sincerely,
Cashew Johnson

The response…

“Wow, now that’s a retirement letter!

We don’t have any positions but keep in touch!”

I will Igotmail.net. I will.

I’m going to hell…I sent this email a few minutes ago (background here).

“TED LEONSIS IS A DICK!!!!

J. here again. I used my hotmail account so my boss wouldn’t find out my birthday surprise to the big guy. (The security department pervs here monitor all our email. One of the guys there is a real ASSAOLe: Always Ogling Ladies email.)

It turns out they were monitoring my Hotmail too! My boss gets my email to you guys and forwards it to Ted Leonsis (DICK!!!).

Then the dude calls me in his office! I’m expecting him to smack me down some happy rays for planning the surprise gift for him, But he looks all mad and constipated, like when the Caps lose. He says,

“Why were you planning on buying me, ‘www.igotmail.net’?”

“You know, cause it’s like ‘You got mail’ but better, because it’s you. I mean, I.”

He gets up and leans forward on his arms. “I make $55 million dollars a year. If I need a crappy domain name from a marginally talented ass-kisser, I’ll buy it myself.”

See? Complete DICK. He doesn’t even make sense. He can’t kiss his own ass.

If you’re wondering why I’m writing this at work from my hotmail account, it’s because I QUIT! Go ahead James, forward it to Mr. Leonsis. Forward it to the whole company. I don’t care. You’re worse than Sheryl and my good-for-nothing dog. And I slept with your wife.

LEONSIS, I hope Ollie the Goalie gets Colie Cancer.

So I guess I can’t buy the domain name, but I hope you have good luck selling it…TO SOMEONE WHO DOESN’T WORK AT AOL.

Later,
Jason

P.S. Are you guys hiring? I’m really good at software programming. You know the AOL icon of the little person running? I wrote a script that makes him do jumping jacks.”

Hey everybody!

I am pleased to announce what I hope will be the first in a long series of Pancake Town contests.

What’s the contest? The first child molestor to post his or her contact information in the comments will get a small gift pack, mostly zany trinkets and odds and ends.

Practicing child molestors only. And if you’re not first, still leave a note because I will randomly select a runner-up from the remaining entries.

Thanks for reading, and if you don’t win, worry not. More contests are on the way!

As part of a class action lawsuit, a collection of music and companies (e.g. Sony, Tower Records) is giving $5-$20 to anyone who has bought a CD between 1995 and 2000. No proof needed. The settlement amount depends on the number of people who apply. If more than 8.8 million people apply, individual payments won’t be made and all the money will be donated to non-profits. Info here, apply here.

I’m using my money to buy lunch so I can throw it at an economist.

ME: “You know how I could afford to throw a steak sandwich at you? Because it was a free lunch! Free, free, FREE! How does irony taste, economDICK?”
ECONOMIST: “Actually, it tastes very tender and juicy, with a subtle smokiness that enriches the aroma.”
ME: “Give me my lunch back.”
ECONOMIST: “$5.”

1. When describing how America has killed some terrorists, Bush said: “Let’s put it this way: They are no longer a problem to the United States and our friends and allies.”

Bush must have gotten that line from that bad movie he doesn’t want to see again…

BAD GUY1: “What did you do with the school teacher?”
BAD GUY2: “Let’s just say she was…erased.”
BAD GUYS 1+2: “HA HA HA HA HA…”
PIZZA BOY: “Pizza here!”
BAD GUY 1: “Snake, do you have a $20?”
BAD GUY 2: “I’m out Boss.”
BAD GUY 1: “Then escort him outside and make a ‘special delivery.’ ”
BAD GUYS 1+2: “HA HA HA HA HA…”
BAD GUY 1: “Where’d he go?”
PIZZA BOY: [running away] “This pawn isn’t dying for Pizza Castle!”

2. I wish there was a less derogatory way of saying this, but when Laura Bush applauds, she looks like a seal. The way she squishes her face, puffs her chest, and slaps her wrists together in a rainbow—all signs point to seal. Not a trained water park seal, but a natural one, a seal emerging from an icy dip in the ocean and surprised by a 400-watt spotlight shining on her face from a helicopter crammed with gawking tourists.

3. How many times did Congress applaud during the State of the Union address?
a) 26 times
b) 44 times
c) 73 times
d) Not enough! Less talking, more applauding.

4. This headline was on the Washington Post’s web site for half an hour after Bush’s address. “President Brings America To the Brink of War.” A bit of an overstatement, to put it generously.

I wonder if, as a reward for staying up late, the Washington Post lets its editors put up any headline they want for the first half-hour after the speech. I wish I visited the site during the first five minutes…“President Boards Plane to Baghdad, Shoots Big Wad Over Palace of Cad, Makes Dad Glad, Hussein Mad, Peace Protesters Sad?”

Answer to #3: c.

“Hi Jason, regarding “igotmail.net”,

Go ahead and make us an offer and we will tell you if you are in the ballpark.

As soon as we receive payment (Paypal, Qchex, Visa or Mastercard) we will transfer it to you the same day.

Sincerely,
[ ] “

Cursed! They’re using the “Never make an offer first” tactic. What should I offer them? $100? A child? My love? Email me your suggestions. I’ll respond to them in a few days. Here’s how I delayed them:

“Need to run, dog kidnapped (thing with wife, long story). Sorry! Will make offer soon.”

In earlier centuries, one of the roles of children stories was to warn kids of child predators (Little Red Riding Hood, Hansel and Gretel…) After I wrote Spider Songs (previous post), I felt like it was echoing a poem I read before, so I searched the web (Ha!).

Remember “The Spider and the Fly“? I think that’s the poem that was influencing me. I completely missed the child predator subtext in it when I was a kid. It’s a real treat to reread a childhood tale and realize it’s more rich than when you first read it.

As I was leafing through the phone book, I spotted this message from the Hello Answering Service. “Thanks to you, it’s been over 75 years.”

Finally. Validation for my theory that I led two past lives, one as a newspaper boy from 1917-1931, until I was gunned down in the streets of Chicago by pressuring Capone’s righthand man to buy a copy of the Sentinel. ‘Come on, Mister.” I pleaded. “It’s the story of the year!” I yelled the headline: “CAPONE ARRESTED FOR TAX FRAUD! AND HE’S A PUSSY!”

In my second life, 1933-1974 (two-year new life waiting period), I worked as a struggling web page designer. I would gather spiders in the wood, increase their intelligence by dipping them in mercury (pharmacist’s instructions), and wait for them to spin pages of elegant poetry. The plan worked beautifully. One of their poems:

Meat with Wings

Hello, Meat with Wings.
How I would like to meet you
to whisper in your ear,
come near, come near.
Love I will bring,
songs I will sing,
as I massage your wings
and caress you, dear.
You are so much more
than Meat with Wings.
Come near, come near.

I gathered their poems for a collection, “64 poems by 8 spiders and a water insect who looks like a spider, and writes more beautifully than the spiders, at least until they ate him”.

As the 64th poem was being composed, a young bum knocked on my door and asked if I knew of a place he could stay on that rainy night. Before I could answer, he said “Thanks”, walked in with his muddy shoes and fell asleep on my couch.

We chatted when he woke to raid my fridge. He was gone the next day with my spiders and my poems. That bum, Jack Kerouac, stole my life’s work, added some drug references, and became famous. I attended all his readings and gave him the evil eye until his death in 1969. I succumbed five years later to toxic poisoning.

Igotmail.com

“Igotmail.com!

J-Dog here. You got mail and I got money! I’m a systems programmer at AOL in Virginia, trying to make it up the corporate ladder. It’s the big man’s birthday next week (Ted Leonsis) and I want to get him this domain name as a gift.

Here’s how I picture it. He starts AOL. The system goes, “You got mail.” He responds, “I got mail!” Then he reads my email: “And I got you a web site, big man!” Boom! I get a promotion and a raise more bloated than the betaware I’m programming.

How much are you selling the name for? Can you get it to me in a week or less? Respond quickly please!

Thanks,
Jason”

Note 1: I sent the above email to Igotmail.net because they openly beg for a buyer, while Igotmail.com is registered but unhosted.

Unclaimed Domain Name Gem of the Day
Igotmale.com

As a gay man, I can attest to the lack of quality gay porn on the web. The same person is in all the shots: a hairless, vapid-looking, blonde-hair, blue-eyed lemur who looks like he was once a backup singer for Scorpions. I call him Chuck. Chuck is either lying on a satin pillow with his jeans unzipped or making love to Chuck II (Chuck with a dimple).

Occasionally, Chuck III will walk in on Chuck I and Chuck II, and, after getting over the shock (approximately seven seconds), join in the action. A few minutes, the camera jiggles, and—in what may be an impromptu move—the camera operator, Chuck IV (Chuck I in a brown wig and two dimples) enters the frame.

There just aren’t enough gay people to make good quality porn. We even have to recruit from the straight community. You may have heard of “gay for pay”, straight actors performing in homoerotic videos because it pays better than straight porn.

While I am heartened that some straight people can set their homophobia aside long enough to have their dick sucked for $500, I still hope that pornographers overcome their resistance to investing in the gay market and bring the same sense of competition and professionalism they have brought to the straight porn community. Because what really matters is the porn. And equality in the military, workplace, professional and college sports, marriage, and the media.

Note 2: If the vague images of homosexual sex made you uncomfortable, you can erase those disturbing images be rereading that passage “straightified” (I replaced the Chucks with names of beautiful women).

“As a gay man, I can attest to the lack of quality gay porn on the web. The same person is in all the shots: a hairless, vapid-looking, blonde-hair, blue-eyed lemur who looks like he was once a backup singer for Scorpions. I call him Chuck. Chuck is either lying on a satin pillow with his jeans unzipped or making love to Tia Carrere (Chuck with a dimple).

Occasionally, Sara Michelle Geller will walk in on Chuck I and Tia Carrere, and, after getting over the shock (approximately seven seconds), join in the action. A few minutes, the camera jiggles, and—in what may be an impromptu move—the camera operator, your Grandmother (Chuck I in a brown wig and two breasts down to her knees) enters the frame.”

Have a good night sleep.

Pick the joke!

Best part about the new Matrix trailer:
a) Keanu doesn’t talk.
b) Laurence Fishburne does talk.
c) Did I mention that Keanu doesn’t talk?

I received an envelope with the following printed above the address window: “PRIVATE CORRESPONDENCE FOR ADDRESSEE ONLY.”

I felt so embarrassed when I read this. All this time, I’ve been opening my roommate’s mail and taking his magazine subscriptions to open mike night at the post office. “LEARN HOW TO SAVE 35 CENTS SEWING YOUR OWN BUTTONS! MUST REPLY IN 5 DAYS! Thank you. You’ve been a great crowd. Remember to tip your postal carrier.”

I wish other objects were as thoughtful as my envelope…

“EXCLUSIVE PROTECTIVE SHELL DESIGNED FOR BIPEDAL ADVENTURE TRAVELERS. PENALTY FOR NON-APPENDAGE USE.”

“CONTAINMENT SYSTEM MADE WITH ALMOST MOTIONLESS LIQUID. TO BE USED ONLY BY VALUABLE PEOPLE WITH OPPOSABLE THUMBS.”

“LIQUID WASTE DISPOSAL UNIT / SNOW SIGNATURE DEVICE / MINIATURE FIREHOSE. GROWS FASTER THAN SEA HORSES. $19.95.$9.95!”

I posted a new picture, comedy MP3, and an article, Things You Don’t Want To Hear From Your Doctor.