April 27, 2006
Odds, Ends, and Sheep
Yesterday, I was the subject of a post at “Brevity is... wit.” Click here if you’d like to know what I’m talking about. Click here if you’d like to purchase a snow cone maker. Click here if you are a jerk.
Next week, this blog will celebrate its one year anniversary. I plan to celebrate by hiring some sheep for a few hours (private celebration) and by organizing a happy hour that I will not attend (public celebration). If anyone is in the D.C. area and would like to attend this happy hour – the one that I will not be attending (you think I'm joking, but I'm not) – let me know. More importantly, if anyone knows a good place in D.C. where you can hire sheep by the hour, let me know ASAP! I really don't want to get stuck paying the full-day rate again, and I'd prefer not having to travel all the way to West Virginia just to save a little money.
I also plan to mark the anniversary by assembling a “Best of Thinking Fool” list. Faithful readers, your input is desired. Whether you've been with me since day one or just recently jumped on the bandwagon, which entries do you think should be included in the "Best of" List? You've got more than 200 to choose from. Also, which entries should be included on the "Worst of Thinking Fool" list? GE Friend, I'm sure you've got plenty of suggestions for the latter list! If you have suggestions, let me know. What is gold for some is dog poop for others. Post a comment here or email me at ThinkingFool at gmail dot com.
Posted by fool at 12:00 AM | Comments (5)April 26, 2006
Maury Povich's Program Could Actually Help Society for Once - Sadly I don't think it will be Needed
For the first time in my life, I actually am hoping that a pregnant woman does not know who the father of her child is. Why? Because the world would be a much better place if Kevin Federline is not the man who recently impregnated Britney Spears.
Sigh.
They did it again.
Posted by fool at 12:11 AM | Comments (5)April 25, 2006
Inspired by Jesse Jackson, The Thinking Fool Does Damage Control
STEP ONE: PRAISE THE PERSON
Kaavya Viswanathan is my hero. Kaavya, a 19-year-old Harvard University sophomore of Indian descent, is the author of How Opal Mehta Got Kissed, Got Wild, and Got a Life, a highly publicized novel which enjoyed a first printing of 100,000 copies. I admire Kaavya, not only for her ability to ink a six-figure book deal at the age of 17, but also for her enormous courage in the face of adversity.
STEP TWO: PLAY THE RACISM CARD
On Sunday, the Harvard Crimson cited seven passages from Kaavya’s book, not to promote her masterpiece, but to ridicule her instead. I’ve deliberately shielded my eyes from other commentaries on this story – I don’t want my thoughts to be affected by others, doesn’t seem right – but I would be stunned if I am the only one who feels that the Harvard newspaper’s actions were motivated by racism.
Why else would a student newspaper attempt to embarrass Kaavya by reporting that, at its most recent count, the sophomore’s coming-of-age novel contains at least a dozen passages that happen to closely resemble the style and language of author Megan McCafferty’s works unless its staff does not like Indians?
Why else would a student newspaper, undoubtedly aware that millions of Indian women throughout the world choose to wear a bindi, the red dot, on their foreheads, feel compelled to figuratively brand a Scarlet P on Kaavya’s forehead unless it wanted to express a distasteful mocking of Indian culture?
In short, why does the Harvard Crimson hate Indians?
STEP THREE: DEMAND ANSWERS
I don’t know, but I think we deserve answers.
Its staff will argue that it is not racist by pointing out that Big Bad Random House, the publisher of McCafferty’s novels, has described the situation by throwing out statements like “literal copying actually occurred.”
What the Crimson fails to realize is that Random House might (and probably does) also hate Indians and, more importantly, like O.J. Simpson and Scott Peterson before her, Kaavya has given a satisfactory explanation for what transpired. “[A]ny phrasing similarities between [McCafferty’s] works and mine were completely unintentional and unconscious.... [I] wasn’t aware of how much I may have internalized Ms. McCafferty’s words.”
That should be the end of the discussion!
STEP FOUR: MINIMIZE THE ACTIONS
So she internalized one of her favorite author’s works. Big deal! Just because some of those words – even whole passages – happen to appear nearly verbatim in Kaavya’s novel doesn’t mean she did anything wrong.
To the contrary, McCafferty and Random House ought to pause for a moment and remember what all of our parents told us growing up: imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.
STEP FIVE: TRY TO INTRODUCE HUMOR
Of course, that statement didn’t mean much to me when I was younger since my brother idolized Mike Tyson and liked to imitate his fighting style by pretending that I was Michael Spinks.
STEP SIX: MAKE IT ABOUT YOU AND SOUND A LITTLE CRAZY
As someone who has never written a novel, I can attest to the fact that writers are affected by other writers. Like it or not, sometimes your body is overcome by goose bumps and an orgasmic-like sensation when you think about space aliens engaging in sexual acts with sheep and George Bush. That same sort of feeling, when chills engulf your body, also can be caused by reading a passage in which an author uses words to paint a picture even more vivid than the best Bob Ross painting. When you read such a passage, where each tree might have a happy little friend and maybe even a happy little ending, it’s impossible for the words not to stick in your head.
That’s why when I actually decide to write my novel, which I believe will go down in history as one of the finest pieces of literature ever crafted, you should not be surprised if a few hundred brilliant passages from other authors' works find their way into my masterpiece. Let me give you an example. What would be wrong with this?
It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair.”
~Charles Dickens, A Tale of Two Cities, 1859
~Thinking Fool, Untitled Novel, 2006
The man is dead for crying out loud.
STEP SEVEN: REMEMBER THAT THE STORY IS NOT REALLY ABOUT YOU, SO REINTRODUCE RACISM AND FOCUS
Harvard is a racist institution that hates Indians. That is why Kaavya is being persecuted.
STEP EIGHT: ATTACK BUSH
We're talking about this girl, yet nobody is talking about George Bush and how he lied about this war.
Posted by fool at 01:43 AM | Comments (5)April 24, 2006
Conversations at Work: Volume XIV
A few months ago, Coworker #1 entered my office and heard the lovely sound of piano music, specifically a song from Les Miserables, emitting from my computer’s speakers.
Coworker #1: (VERY sarcastically, i.e. in a tone that was clearly making fun of my musical selection) I love this song. It reminds me of high school.
Thinking Fool: (Seizing the moment) The part where the football players had you pinned to the ground so they could sodomize you?
Coworker #1: Umm no, not that part.
Perhaps I should have said "lacrosse" instead of "football." In any event, my musical selections continue to be ridiculed.
Posted by fool at 12:01 AM | Comments (4)April 21, 2006
Favorite Moments from High School: Volume II
As previously mentioned, my high school economics teacher was nothing short of amazing. Every time he returned our tests, he would read through the questions and answers to make sure we understood why we got points for some answers and didn’t get points for others. After one such review, the Cigarette Peddler went up to the teacher and complained that he should have received more points for a particular answer.
High School Econ Teacher: What’s the matter, babe?
Cigarette Peddler: I think I should get more points for my answer on question #2.
High School Econ Teacher: Well, let me see your exam. (Reading the answer.) No, no. See you left out half the analysis. You talked all about demand, but didn’t even mention supply once. That’s why I only gave you half credit.
Cigarette Peddler: I totally disagree. I basically said what you just said, but in a different way.
High School Econ Teacher: Babe, I read your answer. You left out half the analysis.
Cigarette Peddler: (Getting agitated) No, I didn’t. I just didn’t use the exact words you wanted me to use.
High School Econ Teacher: What are you some kind of asshole?
He didn't end up getting any more points.
Posted by fool at 12:15 AM | Comments (2)April 20, 2006
Free Stuff Out of My Reach
Imagine what it’d be like to receive a gift certificate to a wonderful restaurant if that restaurant happened to be located across the globe in a country you never plan to visit. Would kind of suck, huh?
Well, now you know how I feel every time I open the newspaper and see all of these awesome free studies that I don’t qualify for. (Click any to enlarge, especially the last one!)
Deaf and a drunk? Boy, God must really love you.
Posted by fool at 12:02 AM | Comments (2)April 19, 2006
Jack might have been Nimble and he Might have been Quick, but those qualities certainly aren't important if you want to sit in an Exit Row on U.S. Airways
When I flew out to take the bar exam, two – NOT ONE, but TWO – people sitting across the aisle were so big that both needed seatbelt extenders in order to buckle up.
This wouldn’t normally trouble me, but I happened to be sitting in an emergency exit row. Just to review, passengers seated in exit rows must be at least 15 years old, speak and understand English, and be willing and able to help with the emergency evacuation of the aircraft, including opening the emergency door.
I don’t know about you, but if I see two people who can barely fit into their seats AND who breathe harder than a high school teenager watching a porno AND who need seatbelt extenders in order to be able to buckle up on a plane, my guess is that these two aren’t going to be real helpful if the plane needs to be evacuated.
Needless to say, it took all my muster NOT to force my way to the front of the plane to get on the public address system.
Thinking Fool: Folks, don’t be alarmed. This is the Thinking Fool with you for a minute. I just wanted to let everyone know that in the case of an emergency, emergency lighting will in fact direct you to the nearest emergency exit just like the video said. However, despite the video’s instructions, please don’t just rush to the nearest exit. Normally this would be a fine strategy, but given the fact that two of the exit row occupants would have trouble riding in the same elevator together, let alone getting you people off this plane, you’re much better off finding an exit located on the left side of the aircraft or just squaring yourself with the Baby Jesus right now. Enjoy the flight. The movie is supposed to be great.Posted by fool at 01:18 AM | Comments (4)
April 18, 2006
No, Madison, You May Not Use the Bathroom. You'll just have to go in this bucket along with everyone else.
The city of Los Angeles must recruit its elementary school principals from Detroit. That's the only way to explain the following story.
An elementary school principal in Inglewood, California apparently misread the school district’s handbook and ordered a lockdown of her school in response to the recent immigration protests. No big deal, right? Well, it wouldn’t have been a big deal if the lockdown she ordered hadn’t been the one designed for nuclear attacks.
You see, the nuclear attack lockdown is no ordinary lockdown. No sir! That’s the lockdown when the boys and girls get to defecate in buckets instead of being allowed to use bathrooms!
Can you say buckets, boys and girls?
Good! I knew you could.
If nothing else, at least these kids will be well adjusted should they ever choose to live in Detroit.
I'd love to be at the next PTA meeting to hear how this one plays out.
Posted by fool at 12:37 AMApril 17, 2006
Thank God Oklahoma Has the Death Penalty
If you mentioned Kevin Ray Underwood’s name last week at this time, most people would have looked at you and said, “Who the hell is that?” (Depending on what type of person you are, they may or may not have concluded their question by referring to you as “douche bag.”) This week, we now know that Underwood is a scum ball of the highest degree who makes Kobe Bryant look like the pope. (And I’m referring to Pope John Paul II, not the current pope, who looks like he’s one generation removed from a family of West Virginian serial killers.)
According to police, last week, Underwood confessed to killing 10-year-old neighbor Jamie Rose Bolin. Jamie’s unclothed body was found inside Underwood’s apartment in a tub. Her neck had deep saw marks because apparently Underwood had a fun fantasy of kidnapping, raping, torturing, killing, and decapitating another human being before raping the headless corpse and then eating it.
Ladies, if history is any indication, some of you will reach out to this man and try to marry him while he’s sitting on death row. For those of you who are tempted to pursue this path, it is my pleasure to inform you that you are now officially added to the “Do not procreate” list.
Speaking of people who should never have procreated, Underwood’s mother has no idea how her son could do such a thing. To the contrary, she said, “He was always a wonderful boy... aside from those times when he left the toilet seat up, slaughtered the next door neighbor’s kittens, and defecated on my sofa because I wouldn’t let him set his teacher’s house on fire.” (Okay, so I added the part after the ellipsis).
It’s always easy to blame the parents when a child ends up being an insane lunatic. If the parents actually beat the kid or made him perform sexual acts on a sheep (an ugly one, mind you – there's nothing wrong if the animal is physically attractive), bestowing some amount of blame on mom and dad seems quite fair. However, when your kid grows up and rapes and murders a 10-year-old girl and then plans to eat her body, but can’t because police catch him before he gets an opportunity, well, I just have trouble believing any non-psychic parent could have spotted that one ahead of time. Some people just come out of the uterus rotten and don’t ever get better. Whether that’s the case with Underwood is unclear at this moment in time.
What is clear is the fact that Underwood ought to be dead fairly soon. I don’t care if he’s crazy – clearly he is crazy on some level – the fact that he did this to a ten-year-old girl is game, set, and match in my book. If he really is nuts, oh well; I'll figure out a way to live with myself when they're sticking a needle in his arm. In fact, may I suggest that instead of worrying about whether he has the requisite mental capacity to be executed, right before he’s killed, we should have a prison guard tell Underwood that he’s going on some sort of new ride that is opening soon at Disneyland. That way everyone comes out a winner, especially if Disney will actually sponsor the execution. Hell, the Mickey Mouse network could even turn the event into a new reality show. "Desperate Death Row Inmates. Good riddance!"
Posted by fool at 02:19 AM | Comments (3)April 14, 2006
Random Thoughts on Easter Weekend – First Britney, Then Passover, and If You have Time, Some Quick Tips about Hollywood’s Latest Crop of Films
1. Upon hearing the news about Britney Spears’ baby cracking his skull, am I the only one who thought, “Damn, I wish I would have included that kid in my ghoul pool picks this year.” Don’t get me wrong; I hope Sean Preston grows up to be a well-adjusted, healthy adult. Unfortunately, the odds of that happening are about the same as the odds of the Iranian people nominating President Bush for the "Ayatollah Khomeini Man of the Year" award.
2. As a non-Jew, I’m not all that familiar with the rituals associated with Passover. Fortunately for me, Coworker #1 gave me the lowdown. “We hire some homeless Hispanic man to stand on a cross so we can laugh at him. Then we plan some bank meetings. And finally, if we have time, we eat.” Good to know.
3. If you plan to see a movie this weekend, you probably could care less what I think about Hollywood’s latest offerings. If that’s the case, stop reading. For the rest of you, the following movies are playing in the D.C. metro region, which leads me to believe that most of them are playing where you live.
Take the Lead
The Gist: Antonio Banderas teaches a bunch of hooligans about life through ballroom dancing.
What Would Have Made this Movie Better: Jessica Alba and some sex scenes.
Who Should See This: (1) Women who would like to ride Antonio Banderas like a pony, (2) Men who would like to ride Antonio Banderas like a pony; and (3) Anyone who loved Save the Last Dance.
The Verdict: Not great, but not horrible either. If it’s between this and suicide, go with this. C.
V for Vendetta
The Gist: An Englishman dons a mask and blows things up in totalitarian England. Natalie Portman joins him along the way and looks dynamite with a shaved head.
What Would Have Made this Movie Better: Not a whole lot.
Who Should See This: Everyone but children and radical Muslims (we don’t need to give them any more ideas).
The Verdict: Definitely worth seeing. John Hurt is phenomenal as the totalitarian Chancellor. (For another excellent John Hurt role, rent From the Hip). A-.
Failure to Launch
The Gist: Matthew McConaughey won’t move out of his parents’ house, so his mom and dad hire Sarah Jessica Parker to help their grown boy leave the nest.
What Would Have Made this Movie Better: A good and less predictable script.
Who Should See This: (1) Women and Men who’d like to mount Matthew McConaughey and/or Sarah Jessica Parker; (2) adult children who won’t grow up.
The Verdict: Matthew McConaughey has made a lot of romantic comedies. This is by far the worst. D+.
Inside Man
The Gist: A good old fashioned bank robbery movie that leaves the audience confused at times and intrigued at others.
What Would Have Made this Movie Better: A more compelling reason for the owner of the bank to be concerned that his safety deposit box would be discovered. (I don’t want to ruin this for anyone who hasn’t seen the film, but not even Lenny from Of Mice and Men would have kept what was in the owner’s safety deposit box. Plot stupidity!)
Who Should See This: Everyone who likes Spike Lee films and everyone who likes bank robbery films.
The Verdict: Surprisingly good! I’m two for two with recent Spike Lee films. Now, if only Oliver Stone could learn how to make good movies again. I would have given this movie a higher grade had the bank owner not acted like Paris Hilton at a Mensa meeting, but props to Spike and company for entertaining me for two hours. B+.
Thank you for Smoking
The Gist: A satire about some joker who is a lobbyist for the tobacco industry.
What Would Have Made this Movie Better: (1) More sex scenes with Katie Holmes just to piss off Tom Cruise; (2) More jokes – it wasn’t over the top enough to be that good.
Who Should See This: (1) Everyone in D.C. who wants to be part of the cultural “elite” and (2) smokers.
The Verdict: Not worth the hype. Better luck next time, guys. Thanks for the handjob. C-.
Brick
The Gist: A teenage girl gets killed and her ex-boyfriend tries to figure out what happened to her. He and all the other teenagers talk like they’re in a 1940s detective movie. Sound like a cool concept? It’s not.
What Would Have Made this Movie Better: A different script, a different cast, a different director, and an abortion before it ever got made.
Who Should See This: Your sworn enemies (recommend it to them only).
The Verdict: Absolutely Awful. I haven’t seen one this bad in a long time. I lasted thirty minutes, and this is one time I’m proud to say that I didn’t last as long as most people! If you choose to see this, you ought to have your sexual organs removed. F.
April 13, 2006
One Female Prank Caller + Kobe Bryant + Mike Tyson = A Cautionary Tale
Remember when you were a kid and your mom caught you trying to set the neighbor’s house on fire? How did you feel and what did you do? You felt terrified and you APOLOGIZED profusely, that’s what! (If you were aware of the three traits that serial killers have in common as children, you also insisted that you no longer wet your bed and were never cruel to animals). Apparently a lot has changed since the time when I was a kid.
Over the weekend, a Buffalo teenage girl admitted making roughly 1,000 bogus 911 calls from her cell phone. Cue Lean On Me Principal Joe Clark’s angry voice.
“That’s ONE THOUSAND phony 9-1-1 calls that this young woman made. You know what that means? Do you? Do you, folks? That means that this young tramp can probably HARDLY READ!” (Well, it doesn’t necessarily mean that, but is there a better-delivered line from any movie than Morgan Freeman’s verbal caning of the faculty in Lean On Me?)
Kids are stupid and make mistakes. There’s no denying that. However, part of growing up is actually learning from one’s mistakes, not just shrugging your shoulders and not giving a damn. Unfortunately, this young woman doesn’t appear to give a damn. To the contrary, after being caught making the prank calls - one lasted an hour - she disrespected police and actually told them that she was going to keep making bogus 911 calls regardless of what happened to her. To quote GE Friend, "Ummmmm!?!?!?"
With this young woman's circumstances in mind, I offer you The Thinking Fool’s Updated Version of the Famous Tale about Not Crying Wolf starring the Female Teenage Prank Caller with Cameo Appearances by Kobe Bryant and Mike Tyson.
BUFFALO, NEW YORK. April 13, 2006. 5:23 p.m.
911 Operator: 9-1-1, what is your emergency?
Female Teenage Prank Caller: Hi, I need someone to come help me. I’m really in trouble.
911 Operator: What's the matter, hon?
Female Teenage Prank Caller: My cat chased a bird up a tree and I went up to get him, but I fell and my arm really hurts.
911 Operator: Your number is showing up as a cell phone. Can you give me your address so I can send an ambulance?
Female Teenage Prank Caller: Hahahaha! I fooled you again; it’s me! You’re like so stupid.
911 Operator: Young woman, you should NOT mess around with the 9-1-1 system. One day, it’s going to haunt you.
BUFFALO, NEW YORK. April 14, 2006. 4:30 p.m.
911 Operator: 9-1-1, what is your emergency?
Female Teenage Prank Caller: Hi, I’m really scared. Can you help me?
911 Operator: What's the matter?
Female Teenage Prank Caller: I was accidentally playing with some matches and I ended up lighting the string of my tampon on fire and I can’t put the fire out.
911 Operator: OH MY! Give me your address so I can send help.
Female Teenage Prank Caller: Hahahaha! It’s me again. You’re so stupid. That’s the 999th time I’ve tricked you!
911 Operator: Young lady, I don’t know why you continue to do this, but you’re going to end up regretting it.
Female Teenage Prank Caller: Whatever! Like you’re lame and probably are fat and ugly too! Hahahaha!
BUFFALO, NEW YORK. April 21, 2006. 11:08 a.m. A local hotel where famous athletes are staying to recuperate from sports injuries and to judge the local beauty pageant.
Hotel Room Service Operator: Room service, may I help you?
Kobe Bryant: Yeah!
Hotel Room Service Operator: What can I get for you, Mr. Bryant?
Kobe Bryant: How bout a hot young blonde who likes to bend over chairs.
Hotel Room Service Operator: Okay, Mr. Bryant. That wasn’t funny the first time you said it, the second time you said it, or the seventh time you said it. And it’s certainly not any funnier now. Do you want any food?
Kobe Bryant: Haha! No, I’m good. Look, you all need to lighten up around here. None of those Colorado charges stuck. In fact, the only thing from that time that stuck was my pecker when I accidentally put it in a tub of rubber cement. Haha!
Hotel Room Service Operator: Goodbye, Mr. Bryant.
Kobe Bryant: Bye.
The Same Day. 1:24 p.m.
Hotel Concierge: This is the hotel concierge, Brian speaking. How may I help you?
Mike Tyson: Oh hi. This is Mike Tyson in the penthouse. I know this is an odd request, but do you know if there’s a local store that sells unicorns?
Hotel Concierge: Geeze, I don’t know, Mr. Tyson. I can certainly check. Do you have a particular size in mind?
Mike Tyson: Oh, not really. Just the normal size, I guess.
Hotel Concierge: Hmm, okay. Well, this is certainly an odd request, but I can do my best to track down some information and get back to you if that’s alright. May I ask if you’re thinking a stuffed animal or a ceramic figure or something else?
Mike Tyson: Sir, let me be very specific. I don’t want a make-believe unicorn. Nothing stuffed or ceramic or drawn. I want a living one. Do you understand?
Hotel Concierge: Very well, Mr. Tyson. Let me see what I can track down for you. (Click) (To other concierge) This guy’s fucking crazier than Darren Daulton and David Koresh combined.
The Same Day. The Hallway of the Top Floor. 11:22 p.m.
Female Teenage Prank Caller: I never thought I’d be able to get to the top floor of this hotel without a room key. WOW! Look at that. The penthouse door is open. I’ve got to see what’s inside. HOLY COW! It’s so beautiful. I’m so glad I came up here. I’m also glad I started taking medication that makes me say everything I think out loud even when I’m by myself like now!
The Same Day. The Pool. 11:23 p.m.
Kobe Bryant: Well, I’ll be a non-rapist in Colorado if that isn’t Mike Tyson. HEY MIKE! Over here!
Mike Tyson: Kobe Bryant, why the hell are you here?
Kobe Bryant: Ah, I had to get some work done on my knee. You know, I’ve got to stay in top condition to make sure my team stays in seventh place in the Western Conference. Last time we didn’t make the playoffs, it was largely my fault, and I ended up getting accused of rape! I’m not going to let that happen again.
Mike Tyson: You’re not going to allow yourself to get accused of rape again?
Kobe Bryant: No, I’m not going to allow myself to miss the playoffs again, you knucklehead.
Mike Tyson: Hey, Kobe, do you want to come up to my penthouse with me. I ordered a unicorn earlier today, and I told them to just deliver it to my room when it got in.
Kobe Bryant: You bet I do! And, if we’re lucky, we can even order some room service! They love me down there! But that’s not a surprise; everybody loves me!
The Same Day. The Penthouse. 11:27 p.m.
Female Teenage Prank Caller: Wow, I wonder why nobody’s using this room. It’s so nice up here. I sure am glad that I dyed my hair blonde earlier today. I look just like that girl from Colorado that Kobe Bryant tried to rape. Hahahaha, I heard Kobe Bryant’s in town. That gives me an idea.
911 Operator: 9-1-1, What is your emergency?
Female Teenage Prank Caller: Hi, I really need your help. I’m stranded in a hotel room with Kobe Bryant and I think he’s going to do things to me.
911 Operator: Okay, just calm down. Tell me what hotel you’re at and I’ll send police right over.
Female Teenage Prank Caller: Hahahaha! I tricked you again, stupid! Hahahaha!
The Same Day. The Hallway of the Top Floor. 11:28 p.m.
Kobe Bryant: Damn, Mike. Why’d you make me hobble up all those stairs? We should have just taken the elevator.
Mike Tyson: Oh quit your whining, you pansy. Real men don’t take elevators.
Kobe Bryant: Well, don’t forget I’ve got a bad knee. Of course, that wouldn’t keep me from wanting to have a little Colorado fun if you know what I mean.
The Same Day. The Penthouse. 11:29 p.m.
Female Teenage Prank Caller: I can’t believe how stupid that lady at 9-1-1 is. She’ll fall for anything! I’m just going to see what’s in the mini-b... What the hell?
Mike Tyson: Holy bejesus! Look what we have here!
Kobe Bryant: (Smiling Wickedly) It’s a lovely young lady! Wow, you look like you should live in Colorado. (Dead-bolting door.)
Mike Tyson: I am so fucking pissed off. I expected to come up here and see a unicorn. But what do I see instead? A young beautiful woman!!! Someone must have said a spell and turned my unicorn into a woman! This is just unbelievably irritating. I’m madder now than I was in prison after I got convicted of raping a woman who was voluntarily in my hotel room.
911 Operator: 9-1-1, what is your emergency?
Female Teenage Prank Caller: I really am trapped in a hotel room with Mike Tyson and Kobe Bryant. Please, please, please! I need your help!!!!
911 Operator: Well, you just enjoy yourself, Ms. Liar. (Click.)
FADE TO BLACK.
ROLL CREDITS.
THE END.
April 12, 2006
What's on Tap for Manana
Tomorrow, why a judge should consider requiring a teenage girl in Buffalo, New York to spend time with Kobe Bryant and Mike Tyson OR what I wish I would have done on the second day of the February bar exam OR definitive proof as to why the Mexican Army is the most inefficient organization in the world. Have a preference?
Posted by fool at 01:54 AM | Comments (1)April 11, 2006
Ugly People: Day 2?
As I exited the metro on my way home from work yesterday, I strolled by a young “woman” I hope I never see again. I didn’t get close enough to smell this creature, but based on appearance alone, I’m guessing the last time she saw the inside of a shower was sometime in March (and I’m not talking about late March; I’m talking early March at best). I couldn’t help but notice the fluorescent green words plastered across her black tee-shirt.
Do you mind not standing so close to me? People might think I want you.
Somehow, I really think that should be the least of her concerns.
Posted by fool at 12:37 AM | Comments (4)April 10, 2006
Cutting the 10-Year-Old Girl ZERO Slack!
Last week, I was having dinner at a local D.C. hangout when I overheard what I thought was a fantastic conversation.
Woman: Did you hear what that mom said at the next table?
Man: No, what?
Woman: She told her daughter that she hopes she’ll grow up to be a lawyer or some other professional.
Man: Yeah, so?
Woman: Well, that girl ought to listen to her mom and become a professional of some sort because she’s sure as hell not going to get anywhere based on her looks.
Man: Umm, isn’t that a little harsh. She’s like 10 years old.
Woman: Yeah, but you can’t tell me that you’ve ever seen an uglier kid than that.
The woman had a point, a very good point.
Posted by fool at 01:00 AM | Comments (1)April 07, 2006
Conversations at Work: Volume XIII
Earlier this week, the Boss’ Secretary sounded deathly ill. At one point, I literally thought, “You can’t be perfectly healthy one day and die of lung cancer the next, can you?” Coworker #2 and I both offered to get the Boss’ Secretary anything she needed. Coworker #1 had a specific thought in mind.
Thinking Fool: [Boss’ Secretary], you sound just horrible. Can I get you anything?
Boss’ Secretary: No, I’ll be fine (cough), but thanks.
Thinking Fool: Are you sure? I'd be happy to run down the block and get you some soup. Are you sure there's nothing you need?
Coworker #1: (To me via instant message) Maybe a rope and a low ceiling?
The love fest continues. To catch up on earlier displays of affection, click on the numbers: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, and 12.
Posted by fool at 12:44 AM | Comments (4)April 06, 2006
Katie Holmes and Tom Cruise: The Conversation that I Wish Had Happened
A few days ago, Tom Cruise was in Germany promoting Mission Impossible III, a film you’ll boycott if you have so much as an ounce of decency. Although Cruise didn’t have the following phone conversation with Katie Holmes, his pregnant girlfriend, who is expected to go into labor very soon, I like to pretend that they did have the following phone conversation.
Tom Cruise: Hey, Kate. It’s so good to hear your voice. My assistant said you needed to talk to me.
Katie Holmes: I do, Tom. I do. It’s really hard for me to tell you this, but-
Tom Cruise: Before you say another word, Kate, I just think it’s really important that you understand something. My assistant told me that you told him to tell me that “Katie was on the phone.” Kate, you know I don’t want you calling yourself “Katie” anymore. I hate it, Kate. I really hate it. I mean, honestly Kate, do you think I should stay in love with a woman who won’t even extend me the common courtesy of calling herself what I want her to call herself. You know, Kate. Nicole had this problem too. At first, I wanted her to call herself, “Moesha,” but she refused. Then, right before we got divorced, I told her that she needed to legally change her name to “Not as Famous as Tom Cruise,” but she refused to do that too, Kate. I don’t want you to refuse me, Kate. I’m not saying I’m anything like Kobe Bryant, but I don’t handle rejection well, Kate. Do you understand?
Katie Holmes: Um, yeah, Tom, I do. But, the reason I’m calling is because-
Tom Cruise: Let me stop you right there, Kate. You don’t know the real reason you’re calling. I’ve studied the real reason you’re calling and you honestly don’t have a clue. I know the facts, Kate. I’ve studied this stuff. You don’t know anything.
Katie Holmes: Um, sweetie, I think you’re going to be really mad at me, but-
Tom Cruise: If you’re going to tell me that you plan to make even a whisper of a sound during my child’s birth – I mean our child’s birth - it’s really going to disappoint me, Kate. I mean, you know how the Church preaches that infants should not hear any noises during their entry into this world. That’s largely why I decided against my publicist’s advice to have you give birth to my child - I mean our child, Kate – at a local rodeo. Please don’t make that face. I know you’re making that face, Kate. I can sense it over the fun. Kate, honestly, it was a slip of the tongue, I promise. You’ve got to believe me, Kate. It’s OUR child, not MY child, okay? (Yelling) I’M JUST SO EXCITED ABOUT BEING IN LOVE WITH YOU, KATE, THAT I SAY STUPID THINGS SOMETIMES.
Katie Holmes: Um, Tom. Real quick, you should know that-
Tom Cruise: They need me back on the set, Kate. I’ve got to promote this movie to the Germans. God, the Germans. You’ve got to respect those people, Kate. They nearly wiped out an entire civilization of people. That’s dedication. The Scientologists could learn a lot from studying their methods. Anyway, I’ll try to schedule you in for a phone conversation on my way back to the States. Is that okay, Kate? I really need to go. (Yelling) I CAN’T WAIT TO BE WITH YOU WHILE YOU GIVE BIRTH TO MY CHILD, SILENTLY OF COURSE. Love you, Kate. Now say it back. SAY IT BACK, KATE!
Katie Holmes: Tom, I’ve decided to have an abortion.
Hey, it'd make for a fun Oprah!
Posted by fool at 12:55 AM | Comments (3)April 05, 2006
In the Spirit of Tax Season, How Not to Deal with the IRS - A Case Study: Satellite Guy v. Internal Revenue Service
Papa Fool enjoys watching sports even more than Michael Jackson enjoys playing “Priests and Altar Boys.” (Don't you think Milton Bradley could make a fortune if it'd develop such a board game?) Thus, for the last two decades, the family room of the Fool residence has looked more like a mini-version of the ESPN Zone than something you’d expect to find in a suburban dwelling.
For years, “Satellite Guy” took care of all the household’s television needs. Now, he wasn't any ordinary satellite installer. To the contrary, Satellite Guy was an eccentric man as versed in Shakespeare and theater as he was in electronics and sports. He could discuss Jeffersonian democracies as easily as he could talk about Baywatch. In other words, he was incredibly fun to talk to. I'll never forget the day that he got off on a tangent about the IRS. It actually turned out to be the last time I ever talked to him.
Satellite Guy: You know, I got a deficiency notice from the IRS the other day, and it just made me so angry.
Thinking Fool: Why?
Satellite Guy: Well, because I’m a small business owner and I pay a lot of money in taxes, but these bastards, I swear, they just want to suck you for every penny you have. They think just because you own a business, you must be a millionaire! The other day, I got this letter that says I owe X amount more in taxes and that if I don’t pay it by such and such a date, I’m going to owe interest and penalties. It just totally pissed me off.
Thinking Fool: So what’d you do?
Satellite Guy: I did what every American who pays taxes should do. I took the form that they enclosed, wrote “Fuck You” across it, and mailed it back to them.
At this point, complete shock saturated my face. I mean, seriously. Who writes, “Fuck you” on a tax form and mails it to the IRS?
Thinking Fool: Umm, aren’t you scared they’re going to come after you?
Satellite Guy: Are you kidding? Look at this logically. I pay a lot of money in taxes each year. If they want to prosecute me, they’ll put me out of business. That’s money they’re going to lose in revenue each year, and instead, they’d have to actually pay to house me in prison. Now how do they win under that scenario?
As shocking as this may be, a few months later, Satellite Guy’s business phone was disconnected and he was nowhere to be found. My family thought we had heard the last of him, but several years later, my mom received a random phone call on her cell phone while she was working.
Mama Fool: Hello.
Satellite Guy: [Mama Fool], guess who this is.
Mama Fool: You know, I’m really busy at work right now. Can you just tell me?
Satellite Guy: It’s [Satellite Guy].
Mama Fool: [Satellite Guy], really? Wow!!! I didn’t expect to hear from you!
Satellite Guy: Why, what did you think happened to me?
Mama Fool: Honestly, I figured you were in jail.
Satellite Guy: Well, I’ve had to lay low for awhile.
Three years have passed since Satellite Guy called my mom. My brother and I still don’t know what “I’ve had to lay low for awhile” means. We just are certain that we don’t ever want to be in a position where we have to use that phrase to describe our current circumstances.
Posted by fool at 12:00 AM | Comments (2)April 04, 2006
And Justice for All... or at least ONE!
Papa Fool has been an attorney for more than 35 years. He’s used the law to accomplish a lot of good in his life, but the following is perhaps my favorite story. Several years ago, the janitor who cleans his office building approached Papa Fool and told him that the owners of another building were refusing to pay $1,850 that they owed him for janitorial services. In other words, the other building's owners were douche bag extraordinaires. Apparently they thought the “dumb Mexican” would have no recourse; so they tried to stiff the poor guy. “Tried” is the operative word. After sending the building’s owners a letter demanding $2,350, Papa Fool received a phone call from their representative. (It's amazing how people behave differently once they receive a letter from an actual attorney.)
Building’s Representative: Hi, we received your letter about [janitor’s] services and you know, I talked to my bosses, and they don’t want to get involved in some sort of legal battle, so they’ve agreed to settle this matter for $1,000.
Papa Fool: Well, you’re going to have to read my letter more carefully because we want $2,350.
Building’s Representative: Well, I know that’s what you said you wanted, but I don’t think that’s realistic.
Papa Fool: We want $2,350.
Building’s Representative: Let me see what I can do.
A few days passed after that conversation.
Building’s Representative: Hi, Mr. [Papa Fool]. I’ve got some good news. I talked to my bosses and they authorized me to settle this matter for $1,500. So, should I send over the paperwork?
Papa Fool: Only if you plan to send a check for $2,350.
Another couple days passed.
Building’s Representative: Okay, my bosses admit that they owe your guy $1,850 and they’re willing to pay him that. They apologize for delaying payment and want you to know it won’t happen again. So, I assume we have an agreement.
Papa Fool: No, we don’t have an agreement. We’ll have an agreement when you offer $2,350.
Building’s Representative: But, your guy only did $1,850 worth of work.
Papa Fool: That may be true, but I’m fully prepared to litigate this case if we don’t receive $2,350. I'm sure a jury will love your clients.
After about an hour passed, the building’s representative called back.
Building’s Representative: Okay, my clients have agreed to pay $2,350.
So, in the end, the evil company ended up paying $500 more than it should have, and the hard-working janitor ended up making $500 more than he should have. Sometimes lawyers really can do good.
Posted by fool at 01:02 AMApril 03, 2006
Newspaper Fun
I bought my current dresser from Ikea three and a half years ago. It hasn’t fallen apart yet, but when it does, I might give this new dresser a look.
What exactly is a "bed-cum dresser?" Brothel owners, feel free to chime in.
Posted by fool at 08:25 AM | Comments (5)