December 30, 2005
From the “I Must Need Eye Surgery because I couldn’t Possibly have Read that Correctly, Could I Have?” File: TAKE TWO – From the Bronx Tale to “Mmm, Give me Some of your Tail, Boy.”
It must be something in the water. First a terrorist is outraged that he wasn’t consulted during the making of a film and now this recent quote by an actor-turned-thug.
In 1993, Lillo Brancato Jr. starred as Robert DeNiro’s troubled son in The Bronx Tale. (It’s a fine film should you need something to watch this weekend.) Brancato went on to have roles in Crimson Tide, Renaissance Man, Enemy of the State, and a few other movies, all of which would cause Roger Ebert to say, “I’m giving all of these movies big thumbs down because, frankly, I’ve never heard of any of them. More importantly, the guy at the local burger shopped promised me a free order of fries if I’d pan all non-mainstream Branacto films – said it had something to do with not liking meatballs."
As you probably know, earlier this month, Brancato and a friend broke into a basement apartment in the Bronx to steal prescription drugs. By the time their little burglary was over, Brancato had been shot two times, yet lived unfortunately, while 28-year-old off-duty police officer Daniel Enchautegui lay dead. On December 15, Brancato and his accomplice, the actual shooter, were arraigned on charges of murder. Can I get a "Hip Hip, Hooray" for the felony murder rule?!?
In a New York Post interview that was published yesterday, Brancato claimed that he wept while reading a newspaper account of the police officer’s funeral.
Do you believe him?
I do.
For two reasons.
First, I’m sure Brancato feels 
incredibly guilty that another person is dead just because he and his buddy were two scumballs who wanted to satisfy their drug habits. Any person with a semblance of decency would feel horrible. And while Brancato seems like a douche bag, he doesn't strike me as a sociopath.
Second, Brancato also probably has shed several tears thinking about the fact that he’s going to get to enjoy the wonders of sodomy (on the receiving end no doubt) for a very long period of time, if not for the rest of his life. That's got to be heartwarming! Anyone up for starting a "Get Brancato plenty of KY Jelly" fund? "You is awfully purty, boy."
What baffles me is Brancato's claim that he had no idea that his partner in crime had a gun. "If I would have known, I wouldn't have allowed him in my car. Imagine, we get pulled over and I get caught with an armed felon in my car. Since I've been in the movies, it would have instantly drawn attention."
Heavens to mergatroid, imagine that!
A famous person driving with another person who has a gun - that's page one news! But an actor burglarizing a basement apartment in order to satisfy a drug craving, hell, that's not even worth a mention on cable access!
In other words, Brancato is an idiot.
Not only is he a very strong candidate for the 2005-2006 Mental Poverty Program, Brancato is also the latest person to join the growing list of people who should never be allowed to procreate. If only a candidate would run on that platform!
Your ass butt rear bottom up, Lillo!
December 29, 2005
From the “I Must Need Eye Surgery because I couldn’t Possibly have Read that Correctly, Could I Have?” File
If Shaquille O’Neal were homosexual, his eyes would have lit up brighter than an exploding star had he seen just how wide my mouth opened when I read a story in today’s Sydney Morning Herald. According to the Herald, hardly a “fake” newspaper, Mohammed Daoud, “[t]he Palestinian mastermind of the Munich Olympics terrorist attack, which killed 11 Israeli athletes, says he is outraged at not being consulted for the Steven Spielberg thriller Munich” (emphasis added). Outraged? The guy masterminds a terrorist attack in which 11 athletes are murdered and he's outraged that a filmmaker didn't consult him about the attacks? Someone please explain to me why this man is still alive. I think it's time to Tookie him.
Posted by fool at 12:12 AM | Comments (2)December 28, 2005
Golf: The “I want to be like Ev” Edition – Part II
Three months ago today, I posted part I of this story. Because I’ve been too busy touching myself For some inexplicable reason, I never got around to posting part II. Well Part II’s time has arrived. So, sit back, relax, grab a colortini, read Part I, and watch the words as they fly threw the air. (Am I the only one who misses Tom Snyder?)
The Premise: My brother and I wanted to act like my dad’s “friend,” Ev, to see how annoying we could be on the golf course.
The Highlight Reel: We sat in our cart near the first tee awaiting the arrival of our playing partners.
Thinking Fool: Do you really want to do this?
Fool’s Bro: Absolutely.
A couple minutes passed before our playing partners arrived.
Playing Partner #1: Hi, guys. I’m Mike and this is Jake. We’ll be playing with you today.
Fool’s Bro: (In an "Ev" voice) Oh hi, Mike. I’m Ev.
Playing Partner #1: Nice to meet you, Ev.
Fool’s Bro: (Pointing at me) And this is my brother. He’s Ev too.
Playing Partner #1: (Completely confused) Wait, you’re both named Ev?
Thinking Fool: (Hardly able to control my composure) I’m (nearly losing it) Irv.
Fool’s Bro: (Pointing at me) Oh yes, that’s right. He’s Irv.
At this point, Mike was standing about two feet from us. He and my brother continued to engage in small talk while I literally had my face buried in my hands, hoping that Mike could not tell that I was laughing harder than a group of crack whores at a Richard Pryor concert. I was applying sunscreen at the time; so the fact that my hands were covering my face was not completely weird. On the other hand, the fact that they were covering my face for nearly two minutes probably would have struck the average person as being a little odd.
The Second Green – The Accents
Playing Partner #1: Are you guys Dutch? You both have really weird accents?
Fool’s Bro: No, we’re actually from Arizona.
Playing Partner #1: ARIZONA??? You guys definitely sound like you’re from another country, Germany or Amsterdam or something.
Fool’s Bro: Well, our mom grew up in Illinois.
Playing Partner #1: Oh.
Now, as Hubie Brown would say, “Freeze it right there.” Here we are two guys from Arizona. Okay? We’re talking with the most awkward voices you’ve ever heard. Imagine someone trying to do a really bad British accent, not even coming close to doing it correctly, and pausing at the weirdest times. That’s pretty much what we sounded like. So, Mike calls us out on this immediately – rightfully so might I add – to which my brother replies, “Well, our mom grew up in Illinois.” My brother might as well have said, “Well, we spent a week in Florida when we were teenagers and had sex with a couple of dolphins. That's why we talk this way.” For whatever reason, Mike dropped the issue at that point.
Although we really wanted to be jerks the entire time (like Ev), Mike and Jake turned out to be really nice guys, so we ended up acting like human beings a supermajority of the time. This proved somewhat difficult because we maintained our weird accents throughout the entire round. Despite our desire to be nice, I'm happy to report that there were a few Ev-like moments during the round.
The Drive
After my brother outdrove Jake on one hole, he was eager to let Jake know.
Fool’s Bro: Oh, would you look at that, Jake. You hit yours really well, and I barely used a half-swing, yet I STILL hit mine farther than you did!
The First Par Three
Jake’s tee shot landed about 3 feet from the cup. When we all got to the green, Jake’s playing partner complimented him on his unbelievable shot. I also complimented him. “Ev,” on the other hand, complimented himself.
Fool’s Bro: Hey Jake, I hit a shot like that on a similar hole last week, and I got it even closer to the pin than you did!
The Errant Tee Shots
On one hole, my brother and Mike hit their tee shots way to the left. I hit mine right down the middle. Before Jake teed off, I offered him a little bit of advice.
Thinking Fool: Hey Jake. Make sure you try to do what I did. I hit my ball right down the middle of the fairway. Mike, on the other hand, well, he hit a HORRIBLE shot. I don’t know if you saw his, but it went as far left as a ball could go.
The Cart Girl
Fool’s Bro: How much money can you make a day doing what it is you’re doing?
Cart Girl: I usually make anywhere from 50 to 70.
Fool’s Bro: Is that all? I have a sister who does this and she makes between 100 and 120.
Cart Girl: (Trying to sound Katie Couric perky) Oh, that’s really great for her.
Fool’s Bro: (After a few seconds of awkward silence) What’s the biggest tip you’ve ever gotten?
Cart Girl: A guy gave me twenty bucks once.
Fool’s Bro: (Looking astonished and boastful) One time my sister got 40!
Hysterectomy Anyone?
Finally, in keeping with the spirit of Ev, we couldn’t keep ourselves from dropping a hysterectomy comment.
Fool’s Bro: (While we were waiting on the tee box) I tell you what. Sue’s had the most difficult time keeping her weight down ever since her hysterectomy.
Mike and Jake: (Total silence.)
What made the round even more fun was Mike's belief that every tee box could easily double as a urinal. I don't know how many times the guy just decided to take a leak on the side of the tee box, but it certainly approached double digits.
Anyone want to play golf with us?
Posted by fool at 12:36 AM | Comments (2)December 27, 2005
Christmas without the Shaman: Year Two
This was the second Christmas my family spent without my degenerate ex-brother-in-law. (That’s not entirely accurate; obviously, we spent many Christmases without him before he and my sister met, but that’s pretty obvious. Frankly, I shouldn’t have to clarify things like this, but then again, I know who some of my readers are, so better safe than sorry!) 
I don’t know about you, but I pray that nobody in Lansing, Michigan needs a skilled Emergency Room doctor during the holidays. If the Shaman happens to be working when people need a good doctor, there’s no doubt a very good chance that some people will receive absolutely horrendous medical treatment. At least we can all take comfort in the fact that he’s not going to be a surgeon anymore! That ought to save a few hundred thousand lives. Seriously, I know I sound hard on this guy, but you ought to listen to some of his voicemails. Without fail, he continually sounds like a candidate for a mental poverty program.
December 25, 2005
Merry Christmas!!!
December 23, 2005
Come on George, One Day Won't Hurt!
“It’s been a good year for the American people.”
– President George W. Bush, Thursday, December 22, 2005
“It’d be an even better one if you'd give federal workers today off, you cheap bastard.”
– Thinking Fool, Friday, December 23, 2005Posted by fool at 08:00 AM | Comments (2)
December 22, 2005
Conversations at Work: Volume IV
My boss’ secretary is a very loud human being. Whenever she makes comments from her desk, all of my coworkers and I can hear her, even if our doors are shut. (This undoubtedly has something to do with the fact that our office walls are thinner than Calista Flockhart after a trip to the bathroom.) The other day, the boss’ secretary broke out in one of her random exclamations.
Boss’ Secretary: Oh no!
Coworker #1: (To me via instant message) I hope she just found out she has an inoperable disease.
Merry Christmas to all. Don't fret, the red and green will go away soon.
December 21, 2005
An Open Letter to Germany from the United States (Followed by a letter from the Iranian President)
Dear Germany,
Apparently you are confused. April Fool’s Day takes place on April 1, not in mid-December.
We get the joke. Honestly, it wasn’t really funny, but we definitely commend you for trying. After all, Germans haven’t always been known for their great humor; so we applaud your attempt to make progress in this area.
We can only assume that you are playing some sort of joke when you tell us that you recently released Mohammad Ali Hammadi from a German prison. Surely you can’t be serious that in a post-9/11 world, you voluntarily released a man who helped hijack TWA Flight 847 in 1985.
We know you’ve got to be kidding when your justice minister says things like, Hammadi “served his term.” Ha ha. We get it. Good attempt at humor, guys. After all, Hammadi served 18 years of a life sentence. That hardly constitutes “serving his term.”
We know Germany wouldn’t release the thug who murdered U.S. Navy Steelworker Robert Stethem, a young man who only got to enjoy this world for 23 years before having his life cut short by Hammadi and an accomplice.
We know Germany, a thriving Western democracy, wouldn’t release a man who, along with an accomplice, took Robert Stethem to the cockpit of the hijacked TWA plane, viciously beat the American serviceman, and then shot him dead. (Click here for a picture of what Stethem looked like after being murdered).
Surely you haven’t forgotten the powerful images of Stethem’s battered corpse being dumped from the hijacked aircraft onto a Beirut airport tarmac.
Hammadi was convicted of murder, air piracy, and possession of explosives. He actually was arrested in Frankfurt in 1987 when customs agents found explosives in his luggage. You know he isn't the type of person we want roaming around the world these days, right?
There have been rumors that you released Hammadi from prison in exchange for terrorists releasing a German hostage in Iraq. You realize that by offering up one of theirs for one of yours, you only encourage terrorists to take more hostages in the future? You do realize how their mentality works, don’t you?
You haven’t forgotten that Hamburg was, and might still be, one of al Qaeda’s key European hangouts, have you?
Of course you haven't! A country as sophisticated as Germany couldn't be that stupid!
Oh, Germany, you pranksters. We know you wouldn’t release 41-year-old Hammadi and even fly him back to Lebanon so he could spend the rest of his life in the Middle East.
Great joke, guys. Your humor is improving.
Very truly yours,
The United States of America
P.S. – If this isn’t some sort of joke and you really did release Hammadi and return him to Lebanon, best of luck importing anything into our country again. Oh, and by the way, when terrorists hit a German city, and they will hit a German city, make sure you have France on your speed dial. We’ve got caller i.d.
Posted by fool at 01:24 AM | Comments (2)An Open Letter to Germany from Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad
Dear Germany,
I want to commend you on your decision to release Mohammad Ali Hammadi from prison. As you know, Mohammad is one of the world’s finest patriots and we look forward to having him back in this part of the world. More importantly, I would very much like it if you would give strong consideration to adopting my recent proposal to move Israel from the Middle East to someplace in Germany. I like how you handled the Jews the last time around, hypothetically of course.
With great admiration and affection,
Mahmoud Ahmadinejad
President of Iran
P.S. – Do you happen to have any extra plutonium that we may borrow?
December 20, 2005
Conversations at Work: Volume III
The other day, Coworker #1, Coworker #2, and I ventured to lunch and for better or worse, we spent most of the time talking about our boss’ secretary. Just to remind you, Coworker #1 likes the boss’ secretary about as much as Nancy Grace likes criminal defendants.
Coworker #1: Here’s the real question. What do you think would hurt [the boss’ secretary] worse, getting fired or getting divorced?
Thinking Fool: Are you kidding? Getting divorced for sure.
Coworker #2: Yeah, I’d have to say getting divorced too.
Coworker #1: (Pausing for a few seconds) Well, then divorce is what we’ll have to shoot for.
Yup, my nonsmoking coworkers are awesome.
Posted by fool at 12:19 AM | Comments (1)December 19, 2005
King Kong Crap
Before this weekend, I don’t think I had ever wanted to shoot someone at a movie theater. Yesterday, I wanted to shoot several people, and I’m not talking about shooting to injure; I wanted to shoot to kill. First, there was the nice Indian couple who apparently thought their Georgetown movie-going experience was an audition to be the new hosts for Mystery Science Theater. After about an hour of their incessant chatter, I finally told them to pipe down. For the most part, they obliged. I wasn’t so patient with the two young punks seated to my right. If the Indian couple thought they were auditioning for Mystery Science Theater, the two young punks thought they were auditioning for Mystery Science Theater: The EXTRA Loud Version. After about twenty minutes of listening to their ongoing, loud commentary, I told one of them to keep it down. He did... for about thirty minutes. His friend didn’t get the memo. (At least the Indian couple whispered most of the time.) To make matters worse, the young punk who controlled himself for a while actually fielded TWO phone calls during the movie. By “fielded TWO phone calls,” I don’t mean his phone rang and he turned it off. I mean his phone rang, he answered, and then he proceeded to talk to people. Then there were the geniuses who thought King Kong was an appropriate film for their infant child. To the shock of no one, the infant started screaming like an Islamofascist chopping off a hostage's head. Surprisingly, the child's parents actually realized their baby’s screaming was an appropriate time to remove him and themselves from the theater. I just wish someone would have chopped off their heads before they had conceived the adorable little screamer. (Although I’ve said it before, it bears repeating: babies belong at movie theaters about as much as Jimmy Carter’s name belongs on a battleship.)
Needless to say, I felt completely overwhelmed and about halfway through the movie, I simply gave up. I decided battling the inconsiderate, 
loud people was not worth my energy, especially given the fact that I thought King Kong was boring from minute one through minute 187. (For those who are a little slow on the uptake, the movie is 187 minutes, which means I was bored throughout the entire film.) Yes, I realize that puts me in the minority as every person in the world seems to think this film is one huge orgasm. Regardless, there's not a person alive who was happier to see that stupid gorilla fall off the Empire State Building than I was. It's not that I wanted Kong to die. To the contrary, I wanted him to kill all the bastard humans in the film, not to mention several in the movie theater, and then attempt to procreate with Naomi Watts (that'd result in a fun sequel). I just knew that with Kong dead, the movie would be ending soon and I'd finally get to leave the theater. In other words, when Kong was plummeting towards Earth, I could only think of two words, "Praise Allah."
Does anyone know where I can get a gun? I plan to see a lot of movies over the next two weeks.
Posted by fool at 12:46 AM | Comments (7)December 16, 2005
How to Keep People from Sitting Next to You on a Southwest Flight (and also not die)
Do you think Southwest Airlines will have fewer passengers this holiday season now that the former safety-conscious airline has demonstrated its ability to use planes as human-crushing machines? I don’t. Although most airlines suffer following crashes, I don’t get the sense that Southwest’s recent mishap at Chicago’s Midway Airport will tarnish the airline at all, particularly given the fact that nobody on the plane actually died. In fact, you may even find yourself flying Southwest Airlines during this holiday season. If you do, try adopting Papa Fool’s approach for boarding Southwest airplanes.
Several years ago, Papa Fool and I were flying somewhere on Southwest and were hoping like hell that we’d have an open seat between us (it’s much easier to play cards and snort lines of cocaine that way). We knew our flight was going to be packed, but not filled to capacity. In other words, we thought there was an outside chance that we’d keep the middle seat vacant. That’s where my dad’s wisdom and experience took over.
Without further ado, I present to you Papa Fool’s Foolproof Strategy for Maintaining an Open Seat Next To You on a Southwest Flight (Trademark pending).
Step #1: Board the aircraft as early as possible. In other words, ensure that you are in Group A.
Step #2: Pick an aisle or window seat. (If you voluntarily pick a middle seat, you should not be allowed to procreate). If you’re traveling with a partner – fortunately, it doesn’t matter if the partner is a gay lover, girlfriend, husband, son, business associate, circus clown, or even a leper*** – one of you should sit in the aisle seat while the other person sits in the window seat.
Step #3: The person in the aisle seat should start coughing more than a high school football team at a doctor’s office, especially when people are walking by your row. In addition, the person in the window seat should sneeze (it’s seriously worth practicing your sneezing skills) as many times as possible. I’m talking enough sneezes to make people think you do more coke than Kate Moss. (Both individuals should also feel free to pick their noses at any time.)
Step #4: Watch as passengers look down at you and your partner with an “I am so glad this airline doesn’t have assigned seating because God knows I’d do anything not to have to sit next to these two guys” look plastered across their faces!
Step #5: Periodically glance over at each other and smile.
Step #6: If for some strange reason, some weirdo happens to make a move as though he’s going to sit next to you, immediately ask the man if he’ll pull your finger.
Step #7: Once plane is airborne, pull down the vacant seat’s tray table and proceed to play a variety of card games, gambling on every single one of them.
Step #8: Hope like hell you’re not flying into Midway during a snowstorm.
Step #9: Pray to God (unless you plan to hijack aircraft and crash plane into building, in which case, pretend Allah is asleep and wants you to put off your plan).
**Note A: If a Victoria’s Secret model boards the aircraft, Steps 3, 4, 6, and 7 should not be carried out under any circumstances.
***Note B: If you actually manage to travel with someone suffering from leprosy, it is not necessary to carry out Steps 3 or 6 because nobody will sit next to you guys, even if one of Allah’s fine servants is pointing a gun at someone.
Travel safely.
Posted by fool at 12:18 AM | Comments (3)December 15, 2005
Two Memories From My Days as a Summer Associate at a Washington Law Firm
Random Memory #1: Back in the day when I was a summer associate at a law firm in Washington, D.C., I composed what I still think was a pretty nifty email.
-----Original Message-----
From: Very Serious and Incredibly Diligent Summer Associate
Sent: Thursday, July 08, 2004 5:06 PM
To: Summer Associates DC
Subject: Admin Law
Has anyone taken Administrative Law?
-----------------
From: Thinking Fool
Sent: Thursday, July 08, 2004 5:08 PM
To: Very Serious and Incredibly Diligent Summer Associate, Summer Associates DC
Subject: Re: Admin Law
[Very Serious and Incredibly Diligent Summer Associate], I have not taken it. At my screening interview, [Summer Partner] recommended I take it before graduating. I have some friends who took it last semester with an adjunct FROM UCLA. Apparently, she was an awesome teacher. Hope this helps.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Random Memory #2: The biggest perk about being a summer associate at a big law firm was the plethora of fine dining experiences. If you actually wanted to have a nice lunch every single day, you could definitely achieve such a goal and never have to pay for a meal the entire summer. One day, my favorite summer associate had lunch scheduled with two partners. He was looking forward to this particular dining experience because he actually liked the partners a lot, and they happened to work in the area of law that interested him the most. About thirty minutes before his lunch was scheduled to begin, a fourth-year female associate called my friend and told him that he had to cancel whatever lunch plans he had scheduled because some public interest types from outside the firm were going to give a presentation about pro bono opportunities in D.C. Apparently, the female associate was in charge of the program and was horrified to learn that most of the summer associates did not plan on attending the event. (Nobody had even told us about it until a few dozen minutes before it was set to begin.) My friend was understandably upset. It was late in the summer, so he wanted to keep his lunch plans with the partners because he didn't know if he'd have another opportunity to eat with them. On the other hand, he didn't want to spurn a firm event because he didn't know if that'd look bad to the hiring committee. Thus, he consulted one of the firm's paralegals.
My Friend: Hey, I have lunch plans with Partners X and Y, but "Fourth-Year Female Associate" told me to cancel them to go to some pro bono event.
Paralegal: Who told you to cancel them?
My Friend: "Fourth-Year Female Associate."
Paralegal: She's a fucking NOBODY!
My friend kept his plans and somehow we all managed to get offers for permanent employment.
Posted by fool at 01:11 AM | Comments (7)December 14, 2005
Adventures at Work: "How Dare You Tell My Friend about My Dirty Habit...No, It doesn't matter that she already knew about it...That's Not Relevant."
Anyone who’s lived longer than a day knows that sometimes, despite all efforts to the contrary, you find yourself in the middle of a dispute wondering, “How the hell did I get myself into this situation?” Yesterday that precise thought percolated through my brain like the lethal toxins that traveled through Tookie’s body in San Quentin's death chamber.
On Tuesday afternoon, my boss’ secretary stepped out of the office for a few minutes when her friend, a woman who works on the same floor, popped her head into the office for a moment. “Lucy” asked me where the secretary was. I didn’t know for certain, but suspected that she had gone out for a smoke break. Thus, I replied, “I’m not totally sure, but I think she went to satisfy a craving.”
When the secretary returned, I recounted the exchange that had taken place between Lucy and me. Well, I might as well have told her that I had just sent a hit-man to rape and murder her entire family. To say she was pissed would be akin to saying Hitler was a little nutty!
Thinking Fool: Why are you mad at me?
Boss’ Secretary: Because I don't want anyone to know I smoke.
Thinking Fool:Then maybe you should quit, you idiot.But I didn't tell her that you smoked.
Boss’ Secretary: You told her I went outside to satisfy a craving and I'm sure she knew that meant I was going to go smoke.
Thinking Fool: True, but you could have had a craving for some sort of food. Plus, even if she assumed that I meant you were going outside to smoke, aren't you and she smoking buddies?
Boss’ Secretary: That has nothing to do with it.
Thinking Fool: Actually, it has everything to do with it. You're mad at me for spilling the beans to another person that you are a smoker, yet that person already knows you are a smoker. I fail to see the harm that I've inflicted.
Boss’ Secretary: I don't want to talk about it.
Thinking Fool: Well, this has certainly been productive.At least I now know logic has no place in your mind.
After the secretary left, I talked to some of my other coworkers and asked them for advice. Because they have all worked with her longer than I have, I figured they’d have some tips on how I could patch things up with the secretary. (She was seriously furious.) Coworker #1, who dislikes the secretary immensely (think O.J.'s level of hatred for Nicole), had the best response.
Coworker #1: I look at it this way. Basically, right now she doesn’t like you. In other words, you’ve somehow managed to escape the hell that is prison, yet for reasons that absolutely baffle me, you’re trying to break back in. I just don’t get it. I definitely think you’re in the perfect place. So, I’d do nothing and hope she never forgives you.
When we were talking about the secretary’s smoking habits, which include smoking on the building’s balcony, coworker #1 offered another gem.
Coworker #1: She REALLY shouldn’t be smoking on the balcony, unless of course there’s a sniper out there, in which case, we should encourage it.
Yup, my coworkers are awesome, well, the nonsmokers at least!
Posted by fool at 12:35 AM | Comments (4)December 13, 2005
Horrible Human Beings: Volume II – The Law School Classmate
After the first day of the bar exam, a group of classmates and I had dinner at a fairly nice Italian restaurant in Ontario, California, which, if you happen to be wondering, is a complete and total dump of a city. (Fortunately, it has an In-N-Out burger. Unfortunately, it has an awful Hilton Hotel, which I thought would be a nice place to stay while taking the bar.) Although we talked about a variety of things, at some point, the name of a student who was hated by everyone wasn’t particularly well liked managed to surface. One of my classmates had never heard of this woman, which came as a complete shock to the rest of us because although my law school was quite large, having never heard of this woman would be akin to living in Iraq and not knowing anything about Saddam Hussein. We tried to tell our classmate just how horrible this woman was, but he seemed unfazed.
Ignorant Classmate: Come on, guys. She can’t be that bad.
Thinking Fool: Put it this way. During my final semester in law school, I spent a lot of time teaching street law to juvenile delinquents and men at a halfway house. Some of these people committed really violent crimes. Knowing that, I can honestly look you in the eyes and tell you that I would rather spend time with every single one of those street law students than spend a minute with this particular classmate.
The Moral of the Story: Don’t piss everyone off at orientation by trying to be a show off and then follow that up by being an awful human being for the next three years, unless of course you don't want people to like you. If that's your ultimate goal, then you've got a foolproof strategy.
Posted by fool at 12:05 AM | Comments (5)December 12, 2005
Some Teachers Are Full of Crap: Exhibit A
One of my faithful readers once asked me whether I actually remember all of the stories that I tell. I can honestly say that I do. It’s true that with the passage of time, some memories might get tweaked a little, but by and large everything I write is factually accurate. With that stated, I’ve deliberately blocked out some childhood memories of being touched in inappropriate places, but that’s largely been done out of embarrassment – embarrassment that more people didn’t think I was attractive enough to touch. With that in mind, let me take you back to a time when I was in the first grade.
My teacher was a physically attractive woman (see above comment about lack of touching (in case you were wondering)), but a little odd. Her biggest concern seemed to be about students wasting food, which led to a rather insane policy. In a nutshell, her policy was simple - if you didn’t eat everything in your lunchbox, you were to bring the uneaten food home; so your parents would know what you liked and didn’t like. Under no circumstances were you to throw food away. If you did, there would be consequences.
We learned about this rule on the first day of class. To the best of my memory, the rule was never repeated until about four months later when Mrs. F caught a student violating the rule. On that particular day, a young girl named Samantha threw away a portion of an apple turnover. Mrs. F saw Sammy do this (or now that I think about it, I’m pretty sure some little bastard actually told on Sammy - what a horrible human being); so Mrs. F made Sammy take the food out of the garbage and EAT it. I kid you not. The woman made a first grader eat food out of the garbage for violating a rule that we had been informed of on the first day of class, but one which had never been mentioned since. (God forbid first graders actually forget something.) Clearly, we were dealing with a whack-job.
To her credit, the whack-job helped me learn how to read. What she did not help me do was learn what a “couple” meant. Instead, she taught the class that a "pair is two" and "a couple is three." Well, I don't know about you, but I generally believed what my teachers taught me, especially at that age; so I steadfastly thought that a "couple" was synonymous with "three" until my dad set me straight. To this day, I'm bitter that she never touched me.
The revelation took place when my dad and I were ordering food at a Jack-in-the-Box drive-through-window. My dad asked me what I wanted, and I told him, “Two tacos.” (I also ordered some other stuff – most likely fries and some sort of drink, but the rest of the order is completely irrelevant to the story and I honestly don’t remember what I ordered. If that portion of the story is something you’d really like to know, may I suggest walking barefoot from wherever you are to the Yukon Territory.) Needless to say, when my dad looked at the drive-through intercom and said, “We’d like a couple of tacos,” I nearly fainted.
Thinking Fool: (Quite worried) No dad! I only want two tacos, not three!
Papa Fool: (Pulling the car forward) I ordered you two.
Thinking Fool: No, you didn’t. You ordered me a “couple.”
Papa Fool: A “couple” is two.
Thinking Fool: No, it’s not. It’s three.
Papa Fool: Wherethe helldid you learn thatbullshit?
Thinking Fool: At school, from my teacher.
Papa Fool:I’m paying HOW much fucking money to send you to this place?Hmm, well that’s interesting. You’ll just have to trust your dad on this one. A couple is two.
Thinking Fool: (Skeptical) Hmm, okay. (Thinking, "You realize I'm going to have to verify this!")
Mrs. F only lasted another year before she got knocked up and drifted off the school’s radar. I’m pretty certain she wasn’t knocked up by a student – certainly not by a first grader – but I can’t confirm that. I hated first grade.
Posted by fool at 12:23 AM | Comments (1)December 09, 2005
Conversations at Work: Volume II
My coworkers and I are celebrating the holiday season by participating in a secret gift exchange with each other. The following lunchtime conversation took place earlier this week.
Thinking Fool: I think our boss' secretary drew your name for the Secret Santa thing.
Coworker #1: Oh no. That's terrible. She'll probably end up giving me a crucifix.
Thinking Fool: Why would that be so bad?
Coworker #1: I'm Jewish.
Thinking Fool: I know. But shouldn’t a crucifix serve as a reminder of a day when your people were extraordinarily giddy?
Coworker #1: I hate you.
Yes, I'd say things continue to be going quite well.
Posted by fool at 12:10 AMDecember 08, 2005
Horrible Human Beings: I Taught One of Them
After my first year of law school, I spent part of the summer teaching an introductory law class to a group of high school students. Most of the students were not only incredibly intelligent, but also quite nice. However, one young bitch woman came up short on both fronts. This particular student wasn’t an idiot, but she also wasn’t the type of person who would ever need to worry about vying for a position at Oxford. More importantly, her disposition was about as friendly as the BTK killer's when he made house calls. She had a horrible attitude throughout the entire summer and even tried to get me in trouble for giving her a bad grade on her first assignment. (That definitely got us off to a good start, though I swear I actually bent over backwards to cut her some slack on assignments and tests because I knew I didn't like her due to the fact that she was a horrible human being.)
The last question on my final exam was the following: “What grade do you feel you deserve in this course and why?”
One girl, who just happened to receive the highest score on the final exam, wrote something like, “I probably deserve a D in this class because I didn’t give a good speech and could have worked harder.” Would it come as a shock to learn that this particular girl didn’t exactly have a ton of self-confidence? (I actually fear that she’ll kill herself one day.) She ended up getting an A, which was well deserved even if her speech really did suck.
The bitchy girl, on the other hand, took an entirely different approach in crafting her response to the question. She used reasoning that even Saddam Hussein would dismiss as being completely idiotic. “I believe I earned an A because (read this carefully) although I didn’t do well on the homework, quizzes, or tests, or participate much in the class discussions, I feel I contributed a lot to the class.” To quote GE Friend, “Ummmmmmm!” I almost jotted a little note next to her answer stating something like, "You've got to be fucking kidding, right? Were you high when you wrote this?" I just ended up not giving her an "A" instead. Yes, I'd rather teach the street law kids than ever encounter this particular girl again.
December 07, 2005
If Only I had Slightly Larger Testicles: Volume II
While in law school, the Thinking Fool, who just happens to be one shade whiter than Casper the Ghost, interviewed for a lot of jobs. Needless to say, I became pretty familiar with the whole interview process. After a quick introduction, (think dogs smelling each others' private parts) the interviewer usually launched right into the infamous open-ended question. I always had my desired response ready to go, but never used it. If only I had slightly larger testicles...
Interviewer: Hi, Fool. I’m Jane Doe, senior partner with Billable, Hours and Billable. We're a great firm that doesincredibly boringexciting work. We'll get to all of that in a minute, but first, would you mind telling me a little about yourself?
Thinking Fool: Well, I was born... a poor black child.
I figured that even if the interviewer had seen The Jerk, there's still no way I was going to be hired. Nevertheless, I really wish I would have tried it once. After all, I told one interviewer about my classmate who urinated into an empty water bottle in the middle of a property lecture. Strange, I didn't get a callback from that particular interviewer. I really shouldn't ever be allowed to procreate.
Posted by fool at 12:44 AM | Comments (2)December 06, 2005
"The Saddam Hussein Show" - NBC Thursdays, After Joey
Did you see the latest picture of Saddam Hussein? 
It’s nothing short of fantastic! I don’t like to support brutal dictators any more than the average person, but I'm making an exception with Saddam - this guy's great! Some network executive should ink this boy to star in his own reality television show ASAP! If you think Ozzy, Anna-Nicole, or Nick and Jessica provided entertainment, I guarantee you that you'd adore "The Saddam Hussein Show."
Don't believe me? Tell me you don't find the following amusing, or at least interesting.
Example #1: Yesterday, the lunatic former dictator told his trial judge, “I am not afraid of execution.” That’s good because the last time I checked, the odds of Saddam NOT being executed were around 15,000,000 to 1. (I guess there’s a chance he could have a heart attack and die before a rope snatches the life out of his body.) There's just something really cool about a man, who was too scared to die going down in a blaze of glory like his sons (at least they had some guts), talking about his inevitable execution. If you brought in Dr. Phil for a few segments of this, I promise an absolute homerun (and maybe even a few tears!).
Example #2: Yesterday, Saddam also displayed his enormous lifelong skill of knowing how to treat people in ways that will ensure his continued good fortune when he threatened his trial judge by saying, “When the revolution of the heroic Iraq arrives, you will be held accountable.” It’s one thing to threaten the trial judge when there’s a jury deciding your fate. It’s an entirely different matter to threaten the trial judge when there is NO jury involved in your case. (True, the trial judge is only one of several judges who will determine Saddam’s fate, but regardless, threatening one of the key decision-makers doesn’t strike me as wise, though it’s clearly enormously entertaining!) Before he's executed, Saddam should do the world a favor by writing a book about treating people well. He certainly has mastered that skill. Hell, maybe he and Tookie Williams can get together and co-author a children's book. Tookie's already been nominated for a Nobel Peace Prize; there's no reason Saddam can't join Tookie's ranks.
Example #3: Don’t forget that last week Saddam complained to the same trial judge about having to walk up four flights of stairs (the horror) because of a broken elevator in the courthouse. When the judge replied that he would tell the police about the elevator, Saddam became enraged. “I don’t want you to tell them. I WANT YOU TO ORDER THEM!" If this man is ever medicated before a court appearance, it will be a sad, sad day for the world.
Look, I don’t care that the guy butchered countless souls. In my book, the guy is entertaining. Don't get me wrong, I still look forward to the day Saddam bids farewell to our world. I just want him to have his own reality television show before he meets Allah. That's why if I were running the Peacock Network, I'd order my executives to work something out with Saddam’s people immediately. And if the show ended up being a ratings juggernaut (and there’s no doubt in my mind that it would be a ratings juggernaut), I'd tell my network executives to follow the program with a reality show about O.J. Simpson! If there's any justice in the world, the Juice's program would end the same way Saddam's would - with a televised execution of the show's star. Now let's grab a bite to eat.
Posted by fool at 12:01 AMDecember 05, 2005
From Our Fine Friends at MTV: Room Raiders - A Television Show NOT Worth Watching (Though it Certainly Helps Us Figure Out Whom We Don't Want Procreating)
Have you seen the show Room Raiders on MTV? If you haven’t (you’re not missing much), let me explain the basic premise of the program. An MTV crew suddenly “kidnaps” three people, placing them in the back of a van (this is precisely the reason vans should be outlawed). The van is equipped with a television monitor, which allows the three kidnapped victims to watch as a member of the opposite sex rummages through the victims’ rooms in order to determine which victim he or she’d like to bang take out on a date. (All photos are either removed or covered to ensure that the Room Raider won’t be able to select his potential date based on physical appearance.) At the end of the show, the raider and the victims are brought together in one room, where the raider tells the victims what he liked and didn’t like about their rooms. Then victims are dismissed one by one until eventually the person with the “best room” is forced to gets to go on a date with the Room Raider. (Why is it that people are ALWAYS excited to be chosen on these dating shows? I think Ted Bundy's skeleton could appear on one of these programs and even knowing that he's a serial killer, some lucky girl would be jazzed about beating the competition and actually being selected by Theodore. Just baffles my mind. Sometimes, it really is better to lose.)
Some points about the show...
First, the program is horrible.
Second, obviously because I love Laguna Beach and My Super Sweet Sixteen for some unexplainable reason, TIVO thought I’d enjoy watching Room Raiders, so it recorded the program without my consent. It now knows not to make this mistake in the future. (I hate disciplining TIVO because I appreciate and want to encourage its free thinking, but sometimes its behavior simply cannot be condoned.)
Third, MTV goes out of its way to make you think that the people who are taken out of their homes have no idea what the hell is going on. That sort of makes sense. After all, the “kidnapping” has to be a surprise or else the victims would be able to remove embarrassing articles from their rooms, which obviously would not make the show as interesting. My question is this: how the hell does MTV just randomly target people and know that its crew can forcefully remove those people from their homes? How has MTV not gotten sued? How have MTV crew members avoided being arrested for kidnapping? Have MTV crew members been arrested for kidnapping? Why did Eddie Murphy agree to do Beverly Hills Cop III?
Fourth (in case you forgot point number one), Room Raiders is absolutely dreadfully awful.
Fifth, the episode I watched featured a white dude who longed to be the next Eminem and who actually thought it was cool that one of the girls had a star named after her (a wall in the girl’s room proudly displayed a document from the International Star Registry proving that some lunatic former boyfriend person named a star after this particular young woman). The International Star Registry is lucky that I’m not in a position of extreme power because if I were, that place would be shut down. I cannot think of a bigger scam than the one being run by the founders of that particular organization. (You have to have some level of admiration for people who legally take advantage of other people's stupidity, but in the case of the International Star Registry, it's more like taking candy from a kid on the short bus - some things you simply should not do.) With the exception of astronomers, any person who has spent more than $50 to name a star after another human being should be sterilized immediately unless that person voluntarily agrees never to procreate. We cannot continue to let people like this breed. The country cannot sustain that much stupidity indefinitely. (If you've ever wanted a star named after you or actually been excited when a star was named after you and you were older than 10 when you had these feelings, it'd be nice if you'd start taking birth control a little more seriously.)
Sixth, any person who appears on Room Raiders should not be allowed to procreate. (That particular list is getting quite long.)
I've finally figured out how to use the "strike out" feature. This makes me very happy.
December 01, 2005
The Pleasures of the Working World If Only I had Slightly Larger Testicles: Volume I
My boss has been in an incredibly good mood this week. By “incredibly good mood,” I mean he’s been as happy as a pedophile at a senior citizen center. (This is not typical behavior for him – usually, he’s nothing but terrific, but I guess we all have our moments.) Although he’s uttered several tremendous lines over the last few days, my favorite comment took place when he entered my work area and said, “Fool, are you trying to make my life more difficult?” Blame it on being caught off guard, but I actually replied, “No.” (I have a hunch the question was rhetorical.) A few more seconds of thought (and slightly larger testicles) would have produced the following response: “Well, of course I’m trying to make your life more difficult. And just so you’re aware, other things I purposefully do because I enjoy doing them and know they’re in my best interest include: pissing outside when it’s super windy, taking forks and jabbing them in my eyes, and agitating pit bulls until they chase me through open fields. I’m glad we had this chat. Now, how can I be of particular assistance to you?”
Posted by fool at 06:51 AM | Comments (2)
