Yes, I’m Rodney. Oh, is today the day the camera crew was supposed to follow me around?, I’ll say casually when they arrive, acting like I just walk around the house wearing a shirt with a collar all the time like some kind of big shot. I was just settling down to read a few chapters of Ulysses. Would you care for a gingerbread cookie once they cool off? Gone will be the following items: the Iron Maiden posters in my living room, the stack of Club Internationals and Schlitz empties in my bedroom, and the pizza-stained mountain of paper plates on the card table in my dining area. As Fonzie proved, garage apartments need not be the seedy havens of nefarious activity which are so frequently documented by the very same local news channel whose van will soon be at my door. I’ll need to make a good impression, and shoring up my admittedly lax personal hygiene and housekeeping habits is just as important as making sure I’ve given myself time plenty of time to finish masturbating before they arrive.
They said they’d be here at 7 a.m. sharp Wednesday morning, so I’ve got 36 hours to get this place tidied up. It’s not going to be easy, but investigative reporter Cynthia Sujira Senghor and her crew deserve nothing but the best. After all, they’re the ones who are gonna blow the lid off this international matchmaking scam that’s been taking advantage of successful bachelors who are too busy with their professional lives to seek out a mate through conventional means. Although it’s been a while since I entertained company, I do remember that a good host shouldn’t have a kitchen counter full of newspapers open to the bra ads, or an unflushed toilet whose contents look like egg drop soup. And my mother taught me that closed-toed shoes are a must, as a true gentleman never reveals how many toenails he’s lost to fungus. While I’m thinking about it, I must call the city to come pick up this raccoon trap, though the next season of Boardwalk Empire won’t be the same without my little watching buddy.
The only thing I’m worried about is that they said they wanted to get a few shots of me at work, and there’s a lot that could go wrong there. I’m probably just gonna have to send a hooker to Myron’s house Wednesday morning to keep him away from the office. Seems easier than trying to convince him to take down that “Fuck Rodney” banner above his cubicle that I had to pay to have professionally done at FedEx Kinko’s after losing a bet that our boss was gay. Plus, since word of our wager got out, my desk is really maybe even uncomfortably close to a forklift loading zone, which may pose a challenge to Channel 11′s sound engineers. The stakes are high, but if this all goes well, it could be a big turning point for me; maybe even increase my chances with that cute new temp in payroll. Just let her try and come up with a reason not to go to the movies with me after finally seeing me as the center of attention for a positive reason. I’m not usually romantically compatible with American girls, but it would be a real waste of all this housework not to try and get some dirty leg while the place is clean.
polar fear club
All right, gentlemen, it looks like everyone is here. I’d like to begin by mentioning how appreciative we are that everyone was able to make it on such short notice. I trust you all understand that we would not have called you away from your obligations elsewhere had not the subject of this meeting been as urgent as it is time-sensitive. For your troubles we have provided some delicious finger sandwiches, which will be made available when your cell phones are returned to you at the conclusion of this briefing. Now to the business at hand: I am pleased to announce that several decades of tireless work by our research and development team has at last yielded the achievement that should put us comfortably ahead of our competitors in the firearms manufacturing business for a generation. That’s right, boys. We’re talking about a gun that shoots knives.
To be sure, such a paradigm-shifting breakthrough is bound to raise quite a few questions, but please keep your hands down until the end. Hopefully this orientation will provide answers to most of them. To wit: is the gun that shoots knives extremely dangerous to use? Is it prohibitively expensive to maintain and keep loaded? Moreover, is it messy? The answer to all of these questions is most definitely in the affirmative, particularly the last one, as these slides of the gun that shoots knives being tested on live javelina hogs will attest. But despite its horrible impracticality, we believe this remarkable creation will have appeal due to the considerable status and respect commanded only by owners of a weapon that virtually guarantees a closed-casket funeral for its targets. In fact, you might say the gun that shoots knives is perfect for when you’ve worked really hard on an important presentation, only to have some cutup in the back possibly ruin it all by making snide comments under his breath. Am I making myself perfectly clear, Johnson?
I’m sure I don’t need to tell anyone that we’re gonna need to keep a lid on this thing for as long as we can, so no talking to the media, even the friendly outlets, as the gun that shoots knives is still not completely ready and we don’t want a repeat of ’88. The final stage of field testing dovetails with the first stage of our marketing strategy, which as per usual, is to leak a few of these to some gang members. After a few reports on the evening news about Bloods and Crips killing each other with guns that shoot knives, we fully expect to corner such coveted demographics as males between the ages of 33-39 who have a samurai sword prominently displayed in their dens, sexy female assassins between the ages of 16-48, and divorced cigarette boat-owning males between the ages of 48-55 whose online dating profiles say they’re seeking females between the ages of 22-26.
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Our customers have depended on www.chaiselongue.com for generations, because we haven’t strayed from the principles our business was founded upon. We cater to a discriminating clientele with an eye for quality, and our many repeat customers appreciate that our high standards and commitment to service have remained the same since 1996. And unlike our competitors at www.chaiselounge.com, we offer our grand, opulent chaise longues at the prices the dealers get before they mark them up. Also unlike our competitors, we won’t insult our customers by using the dumbed-down American malapropism “chaise lounge.” Clearly, if you are in the market for an elegant chaise longue, you’re looking to class up the joint, so maybe you should fucking act like it already. What, you think the late Susan Sontag spelled it “chaise lounge” like some kind of fucking sixteen year-old barely literate frontier wife nursing two toddlers in a goddam covered wagon? Nah man, fuck outta here with that bullshit.
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french prince of bel air
Instructions: Put the headphones on. No, they’re not plugged into anything but this old dark corner of a barn. Let a spider crawl through the wire and into your ear. The music is the sound of her eggs hatching in your auditory canal, and you’ll need to listen carefully to it, so you can mimic it perfectly on the piano at the bookcase in the mansion that will open to reveal a secret passageway to a subterranean second mansion. That’s your home now. Sure, it’s got enough rooms for you to host a party and keep your work friends and school friends from ever meeting each other and inevitably exchanging stories about your substandard table manners, but every bathroom has the toilet paper unrolling from the back and a lock on there that prevents you from ever fixing it and every toaster in its many kitchens has a fucked up light/dark setting on the toaster that keeps you from making decent toast, even when you’re certain that you marked the perfect spot on the dial with a Sharpie. Use your wits to master the art of making toast in a frying pan, because you’ll need your strength for your day’s work of transcribing in longhand your interview with a septuagenarian parrot that has outlived multiple owners. Spend the next month holed up with the Remington Standard typewriter in your chamber and emerge with your masterpiece, then mail the manuscript to all five sets of brothers you know named Kevin and Kyle. Endure their withering criticism over your failure to adequately explain the parrot’s controversial failure to testify at the murder trial of Colombian drug kingpin Gerardo “Pan Dulce” Montoya, who acquired the blue Hyacinth macaw in 1987 in a card game and owned him until 1990, when he was shot at his Miami villa by DEA agents after a lengthy standoff. Run, the wind chafing your hot tear-stained cheeks, around the perimeter of the property, clutching your unfavorable reviews and seeking a spot to bury them where no one can see them. Settle on an area behind the hedge surrounding the western servant’s quarters and burrow with your hands under its sun-dappled leaves, until the black earth under your fingernails makes them ache. Collapse from exhaustion and listen to the sound of your breathing slowly diminish from frantic gasps to a sound too quiet for human ears, until you’re lying perfectly still. Feel the cool moist soil against your face and think to yourself what a perfect spot this would be to just silently decompose. Got it? Congratulations, you’ve just completed step one.
thou shalt call me zeroaster
Come see the one-man show that’s taking off-Broadway by storm-Stories From 101 96th Street! You’ll laugh, cry and even sy*h as Live Erotic Theater Quarterly‘s 1996 Newcomer of the Year nominee Sandy Montenegro inhabits the off-the-wall neighbors who inhabit the zaniest apartment building in the Bronx! You’ll have plenty to talk about on the long train ride home from Ralph’s Coffeehouse and Artist’s Space in Pelham Park after you get to know this dazzlingly diverse array of characters:
Mark on the fifth floor: “I mean, hey- can a guy get a pastrami on rye around here? Fifteen years I been comin’ to this deli; you’d think I could get a little service, don’t you think? I wear cheap clothes and my combover isn’t fooling anyone, right, pal? Yeah, you might say I’m a real jerk. I play my music too loud and have really noisy sex, where I yell at the woman to kick me like a horse right as I’m about to reach my peak. Be a real shame if somebody told my peers on the school board about my weird kink, but that doesn’t stop me from acting like a total asshole to people who have potentially damaging information, including audio recordings and infrared camera footage.”
Ivette on the third floor: “Yeah, papi, you might call me an around-the-way girl. Rap videos have been made about the way I take clothes out of a front-loading washer at the laundromat. Sure, I might be good-looking, but I act like it too, see, walkin around with my nose in the air and not giving anyone the time of day when I run into them in the lobby while checking the mail. If there’s one thing I like more than smoking cigarettes on the fire escape real slow and sexy, it’s kicking a guy like a horse right as he’s about to reach his peak, and I’m the best at it. Yeah. I’m bad.”
Luther the superintendent: “I don’t gave a damn when you need it, I’ll get to it when I get to it, man! Look, I’ma have to call you later, aight? Sorry about that; the nerve of these tenants! They think it’s the end of the world if they go a few days without a working toilet. I’m as sorry as anyone that you’re being inconvenienced, but I couldn’t very well come back early from Palm Beach without cancelling some pretty nice dinner reservations, so my hands were tied. Hey, not for nothing, but we’ve all got problems. I can’t keep my Jaguar out of the shop, but do you hear me complaining about it? Besides, it’s not all bad. Just the other day, a guy in one of my buildings invited me to do some freaky, freaky stuff with a girl that’s known for kicking a dude like a horse right as he’s about to reach his peak, and I’ve always wanted to try that. Mother of Mary, it was everything I ever dreamed of and more. They told me that a threesome was a longtime fantasy of theirs, but they had had a hard time finding someone. Apparently one of their neighbors had been in the running until they began jumping to conclusions and harboring totally unfounded suspicions about his astronomy hobby. Between you and me, they seemed like a couple of snobby jerks.”
Audiences called Stories From 101 96th Street “an… effort,” “disturbingly racist, but in a way that was strangely ignorant of Asian stereotypes, unless there’s something I’ve been missing this whole time about them and Ritz crackers,” and “Uh, could you keep it down? People are trying to do the crossword here.” Get your tickets today, because this tour de force isn’t likely to be around long, and costume designer Rod Butterscotch really did put a lot of effort into creating a prosthetic ass big enough to meet Mr. Montenegro’s specifications for Ivette.
My son, sit down and let me talk to you; there are certain moments in a father and son’s journey that must be acknowledged, and the son becoming a man is one of them. Seeing you in the bloom of your youth, I’m reminded of -and perhaps even a little wistful for- my own younger days. I had an apartment with a couple of guys, and a pretty sweet job doing construction. Whether we were watching football on television or having the girls from across the hall over for an orgy, we ate pizza, pounded beers and smoked dank every night. Every now and then we’d overdo it, then have to take of the next day off work so we could get rid of the shakes with a couple of seven a.m. brewcephuses. Sometimes, the sanitation workers would see me rushing to get the trash out before their truck arrived, and this happened often enough that they even gave a name, “el retrasado,” to the celebration dance I would do when I accomplished this task in time. Those were exciting times for me and my roommates. As young Amish men on Rumspringa, our wild behavior was fueled by a keen though unspoken awareness that we were unlikely to ever employ that kind of irresponsible decision-making again. It occurs to me presently that those days were long ago, as shown by the fact that my eldest son is now preparing to embark upon his own time living away from home.
You may have experienced some curiosity about the outside world while growing up in our cloistered community. Your time outside will likely raise more questions on this subject than it answers, but that is the price of wisdom. When a man chooses a path, he isn’t just picking one destiny, he is forsaking all other possible destinies. Do not, however, feel envious of those many paths not chosen, for just as you might later wonder what might have been if you had become a roadie for Cypress Hill, you will also come across unfortunate souls who through tragic circumstance, never had the freedom to know of alternatives. I’m proud of the man you’re becoming, and this time in the world will do you good. As you already know, life here is perhaps uniquely demanding and requires a serious commitment. Knowing what else is out there will help you decide whether to choose baptism and accept these demands for the rest of your life, and I trust that whatever you decide, you will do so with your eyes fully open.
Hold out your hand, Othniel; I want to give you something that served me well on my Rumspringa. It’s my old pager. Be careful who you give the number to, however, as not everyone you will encounter has had the same upbringing as you. Remember that learning to co-exist with others will prove invaluable long into your life, and those skills will never be tested more than they will among the English. Know when it is necessary to tuck your chain in and hide your Walkman, but remember that misunderstandings can also be avoided with diplomacy. Extend a measure of patience and mercy even to those who would drink up all the Hennessy you got on yo shelf. Surround yourself with the kinds of friends who you can trust to tell you if you’re being wack, for if your ass is a busta, 213 will regulate.
It’s a different world than where you come from, and you should get out there and experience all it has to offer by sowing your wild oats. Though the high-waisted jean shorts and Cross Colours short sleeved hoodies favored by modern women are not always ideal for corporal evaluation, they do leave a bit less to the imagination that the ankle-length solemn dresses you’re used to around here. You’ll soon learn that the world is full of girls that you will be proud to address as “mah tenderoni,” but don’t forget that sometimes what you’re looking for was here all along. Yes, I’ve seen the way you look at Stoltzfus’ girl Hannah. Indeed she comes from hearty stock; not even the most modest attire could conceal the fact that she looks like one of those rap guys’ girlfriends. Very well, then; your satchel is packed and you are ready to depart. I will see you upon your return, should you choose it, and I will be glad to put you back to work. Having your own bathroom for the first time will no doubt prevent your butter churning muscles from losing too much of their strength.
reverse trigonometry
Hello, who am I speaking with? Eleanor… and that’s with two E’s? Well, non-consecutive, obviously. And you are a… manager or supervisor? Actually, what is your exact title? Hang on, let me get a different mechanical pencil, because after the experience I just had, I am taking notes, which I plan to turn over to the Better Business Bureau, if necessary. All right, got it. Oh, my tracking number is 5694…306…618… do you need me to slow down? Okay, just making sure: 47294…05739…well, it’s easier for me to read if I break it into sections like this, okay? Let’s see here, where were we… oh, and it ends in 149. You’re not seeing it? Let’s try it again, all at once: 56943066184729405739419. Okay, much better. Well, Eleanor, I wanted to speak with you about one of your customer service representatives that I just got off the phone with. Yes, her name was Critter Goldengraham, and during our call, Ms. Goldengraham was curt, openly dismissive of my concerns, and not at all informative. Her refusal to treat me with the merest modicum of human decency turned what should have been a brief query for your contracting firm regarding the custom Sega Genesis installation you just did on the ceiling above my indoor hot tub, into a morning-long debacle that escalated, or rather devolved, depending on your perspective, into a shouting match that spanned the call’s final 90 minutes. I have never felt so frustrated, exhausted, or, most of all, disrespected in all of my life. Additionally, I’m pretty sure I have fallen in love with her. Let me tell you something, Eleanor; I spend a LOT of money and time getting women to abuse me over the phone, but Critter was in a class by herself. She so thoroughly broke my will that after the call I had to stifle the impulse to cleanse myself by touching a hot stove the exact same way 200 times. So, how about it, lady- you gonna send me her home address or what? I wanna weird out on this broad and I am not gonna be stopped, so you might as well profit from it. What’s your game, dollface? Bootleg DVDs, secret poker games, human cockfighting? I got underworld connections like you wouldn’t believe. And I’m not just talking about my shady business partners either; I also wield quite a bit of influence back in Niil’Kelash, the subterranean home of wandering doomed souls in the afterlife. I’m an old fashioned guy, Eleanor, and I’m determined to make an honest woman out of Critter. Who knows- if this thing goes according to plan, you could be called to offer testimony on our behalf at our wedding in the very throne room of the Dark Emperor himself, Fwecc-Mehebel (some interpretations of the prophecy did say that the Selector of Gnelken shall marry a woman named for a cat, so fingers crossed!). Then, upon the recitation of our vows, we shall drink from the Skull of BeHok Ne’enb, then, our wings fully grown at last, we will ascend into the sky for the first time as husband and wife. With the legion of Laolti flying at our backs, our numbers shall block out the sun as we rend the flesh of the terrified nonbelievers to announce the beginning of His eternal reign over the conquered and enslaved heretics. This oath I seal with my blood: all hail the holy name of Fwecc-Mehebel, forever. Amen and amen.
rime of the instant mariner
“Greetings, gentle shopkeep,” the well dressed man said as he entered my humble workshop. He was as grateful to get out of the driving rain as I was to receive some unexpected business. “I was glad to find you. Many of your fellow craftsmen in this village have closed up shop early and gone home.”
I shook my head to indicate that I shared his disappointment in my peers. ”It takes a man of extraordinary discipline and fortitude to ply his trade in the face of trying circumstances,” I commiserated, surreptitiously placing my hat under my workbench and my keys into my back pocket, then kneeling behind a shelf to quickly refasten my grease-stained apron. “What may I do for you?”
He unwrapped a handkerchief to reveal an object of considerable interest, as well as considerable beauty. I furrowed my brow and grunted, trying not to betray my puzzlement, for my ignorance of this gewgaw would not have been greater had he brought forth a priceless bauble from Peking or the jewels of Araby. I wondered if I would be able to help him.
“Fret not, my good man. Ho! I do not expect you to have much immediate knowledge of this item, not in this remote hamlet. In my travels it came into a state of disrepair, and neither my driver nor my attendant nor I can seem to make much sense of it. To return home failing to deliver it in acceptable condition would cost me… quite dearly, in fact. This puts us at your mercy, but I can deduce from the way you look me in the eye that you are honorable man; and from your neat, organized workshop, that you are a man of prodigious handskill. I will gladly pay you in advance simply for trying to fix it. The name on the door said Bayard Sanyan. Is that you?”
I nodded proudly in affirmation, wiping my hand on a cloth to make it more presentable. As he shook my calloused mitt, he pressed a few gold doubloons into it. The firmness of his grasp contrasted with his digits’ softness, which was as that of a silken pillow, having been protected by the fine leather gloves I had noticed him removing. Corinthian.
“Pleasure to make your acquaintance. Drakkar Reverendston. If you can get it running again, there will be plenty more where that came from. Bought it from a gypsy. He called it an e-cigarette.”
I told him I’d do my best, then felt a sense of foreboding over what manner of man I was entering into business with as I plugged it into the USB port. Maybe it just needed to be charged.
Let’s face it; the fact that you’re home right now watching judge shows means you likely fit into one of two categories. If you were injured in a car accident and need a tough, smart lawyer who will battle the greedy insurance companies for every last dollar you have coming, hang tight; their ad will be along shortly. Probably next, in fact. For the rest of you, though: pick up the phone right now- don’t waste another second! Call Mountain Stone Academy and take your first step to an exciting career in the profitable field of drug muling! If you own a beige or white four-door sedan with clean plates, and a nice golf shirt tucked into a pressed pair of chinos, then let our experts get you on the path to getting out from under those bills by calmly telling customs agents that you’re just coming back from a routine safety inspection of your company’s newly opened plant in Monterrey!
Now, I know what you’re thinking- “Hey, TV jerkface! I’ve been burned by commercials like this in the past!” Hey, here at Mountain Stone Academy, we’ve heard the story before; hell, we lived it! You went to trade school and found a great job, then your company broke your union and shipped your job overseas. You went to bartending school, but found yourself drinking the profits to comfort yourself after hearing the customers’ depressing stories, which really seem to have grown both in intensity and frequency the last six or seven years. And just when you thought you had found your golden ticket by graduating from that televangelist’s Apostle-Anointing Institute, a couple years ago you had to close up shop, having found it impossible to compete with Tea Party rallies for your flock’s attention and hard-earned donation dollars. But at Mountain Stone Academy, we’ve got the statistics to prove that this time will be different. You see, after being repeatedly boned by the traditional, “lawful” marketplace, more and more people just like you are giving a second look to today’s black market. Hey, if the government’s not gonna extend your unemployment benefits so they can afford to continue hemorrhaging money on an unwinnable drug war, shouldn’t you at least get a piece of the action?
Come on, where do you wanna be six months from now? Still sleeping on that couch? Or impressing your new bosses with your ability to throw off the dogs, having learned from our pros how to properly line your trunk with coffee grounds? Before long, you’ll be capitalizing on challenging advancement opportunities, and Mountain Stone Academy will be there with post-graduate classes to further your development as a smuggler, as you’ll need to undertake continually riskier jobs to keep proving your loyalty! Remember, you’re a lot more valuable, and therefore harder to kill, if our Hollywood makeup artists have trained you with the technique to make a busload of teenage sex slaves look like a group of senior citizens returning from their tour of Chichen Itza. So what are you waiting for? Call the number on your screen and open the door to your future with the newfound confidence and self-respect that can only come from mastery of coveted workplace skills such as staying cool under pressure, not freaking out, and keeping your fucking mouth shut, cabron.
novelty gallagher mullet mirror
First of all, I’d like to thank the fine folks at the Center for American Regression for hosting this fundraising dinner, but mostly I’d like to thank you, the outstanding Admiral’s Club-level donors that make up my core constituency. Every time I return here to my home district, I feel so grateful to be a six-time incumbent, because it means I no longer have to have to shake the germ-laden hands of our fair district’s many non-millionaires, thanks to my near universal name recognition.
While this event is not open to the press, I would like to take a minute to address the allegations made by my opponent in next year’s upcoming race. You know, folks, I wear a lot of hats in Washington: senior member of the ignorance committee, unofficial congressional liaison to the international underground human organ trade, fixture on the Sunday talk shows when they need someone to advocate against child labor laws. I take every one of these roles very seriously, as well as a few others: straight shooter, no-nonsense negotiator, common sense everyman. One thing I am not, however, is two goats stacked on top of each other, then somehow stuffed inside a Brooks Brothers suit.
See, what the elites don’t want you to know is that I’m up there fighting for our nation’s most productive citizens, who otherwise wouldn’t have a voice in Washington due to the time-consuming task of generating every bit of wealth that their shareholders are entitled to. So they focus on divisive distractions, like this loop of rope tied around my neck. Of course, they conveniently leave out details that don’t fit their pre-crafted narrative, like the fact that the end of this rope is chewed off, unlike the invisible rope around my opponent’s neck, which remains tightly tethered to special interest groups like the powerful solar energy lobby. And not even the strongest goat teeth can chew through that rope, friends.
We must be vigilant, as our cause is now under grave threat from forces determined to destroy everything we’ve worked for, using insidious tactics like a whisper campaign insinuating that the real Rep. Stonesworthy died of a massive cocaine overdose in a swank Georgetown hotel room hosting one of his quarterly hooker summits, and that his campaign decided the most practical replacement this close to election season was a couple of farm animals with a device cleverly planted on them to deliver prerecorded speeches while the top one licks peanut butter off the roof of his mouth to make it look like he’s talking. Once again, thanks for supporting our re-election campaign. Take this opportunity to do a little networking, and of course, feel free to order another $300 plate of veal parmigiana. I hear it’s delicious, but I filled up on tin cans during the limo ride over here.
