Dear journal, I wrote a novel. It's not done though since I haven't started it yet, but I might. Probably I won't. But if i do, it's about the true story about how i am able to control the wind. Which i realized when I was little, but i just realized that yeah, I could probably still do that. It's basically pretty easy and i feel sorry for you guys if you can't because it's SIMPLE for me. I'm going to call my novel "How Easy It Is For Me to Harness Wind Power And Probably Some Other Weather Forces." I doubt I'll tell you how to do it even though, because it would be a waste of time for me to tell you i would be SO bored about talking about thigns that are easy DUH, but anyways, it's really just such a piece of cake for me, so anyways
I have a special kind of permit that lets me steal things such as artwork and collectibles from people's houses for no reason. I don't know or care why they approved my application for this permit. Technically I invented the whole thing, but I sent it in to see if I could use it and they said sure. I'm not really a lucky person and I hardly ever pump my fist in enthusiasm, but I did when my application went through because it was a pretty great day for me personally.
My mom gave me the idea of setting up a brothel. I could start by testing out all the hookers in town. Then I'd promise them double whatever they're getting paid now. But instead of paying them.... and this is where it's good for me... I'd drown them in the river and have a auction for their teeth and butt whiskers.
I stole these walkie-talkies the other day from Circuit City. I had an acquaintance video tape me running them over with my bike, and barfing on the fragments. Then I made a copy of the tape. I went back to Circuit City the next day and asked a sales associate for help in the VCR department. We found a display model and he's like, "Do you wanna put a movie in this and see how it works?" I'm like.... "Shut up and put THIS movie in." I handed him Good Will Hunting and we snuggled close till the early morn.

I finally got my pictures developed from Halloween. The night before, i went to a costume party at Don Rickles' house. I dressed up as your fat mom. Somebody crapped on my patio last Halloween, so to keep it from happening again this year, I put up a sign that says "No Asians."

I think I'll keep that up for a while.

I'm starting to get into self-mutilation. There were these people on Maury Povich yesterday who cut and scar and burn themselves because it makes them feel nice. I was skeptical at first, so I tested it out on my dad while he was sleeping. It felt pretty good, but as I was adjusting the nozzle of the blow torch, I burned my finger and I got a blister. So I kind of have mixed feelings about the whole thing.
I went to my grandma's house on thanksgiving. I didn't want to talk to anybody so I pretended I was asleep. I only got up twice, to take barfs. When it was time to go, I filled my pants with turkey and had my grandma carry me out to her car. Which I stole.
Whatever you do, don't go see the movie "Spy Game." There's this part in the middle where a guy with a giant hat sits down right in front of you.

Somebody told me that George Washington's teeth were made out of tampons. I carefully researched this matter, documenting every piece of data I could find. None were conclusive. Several weeks later, I wrote a letter to President John F. Kennedy, demanding he address my campaign to resolve this controversy. I guess you could say I lost interest. So let's dance like this. Oh right.... you can't see my dance.

Okay then, let's dance like this. Oh right.... you can't see it.

Everybody knows that the "Karate Kid" film series would have been much more successful if Mr. Mi Yagi spoke with a surfer's accent. And if he was really bad at karate. And if, at the end, Ralph Maccio got beaten up in the final tournament, while Mi Yagi casually read a newspaper, disinterested in his fate.
I overheard your parents (or legal guardian(s)) discussing their will. You get nothing. My dad said that people turn into trolls and that your parents (or legal guardian(s)) are in that transition right now. Too bad for them. And for you, considering the will. Also? I asked some super-models to marry me and they said yes. I asked Liza Minnelli if she would please marry you and she said yes. So congratulations on your marriage. Adios, whore.
They're making tootsie rolls with wrappers that look like flags now. Which is kind of like unwrapping flags containing poop. Not that I object to unwrapping flags containing poop. I think it's cool. I'm just saying.
Saw Will Smith at a book signing. He didn't write a book, but Dustin Diamond from saved by the bell did, and we're both huge fans. Will recognized me because I'm having an open affair with his wife. We beat our gums until I finally reached Dustin, who was waiting for me to hand him the book, titled, "Why My Life is Ruined." I told him that I've always been a big fan and he starts jabbering on and on about all kinds of stuff. I guess they're going to bring back the hit show "Blossom," except Blossom is really fat now, so they're going to call it "Fat Blossom," and Dustin is going to play her father. Should be cool. Also, he's releasing a line of feminine hygiene products.
I've been considering my financial predicament lately. I'm going to gamble my life savings on a potentially lucrative stock. It's a business that specializes in decorating children's' bedrooms with rotten animal carcasses. After they're done, and you pay them (an obscene amount of money), they burn the check in front of your face. Like, in your hair. Frank Stalone, my stock advisor, says that if I go "all in" on this stock, I'll be able to get this robotic arm that shoots pellets 12 feet far
Amish people shun things such as: Chores and responsibilities. I used to think they were fun dudes to hang out with but actually they aren't. A local amish kid named Muffy used to come over to my house and he'd just start going through all my appliances saying "Okay, so here's how this works..." and he'd demonstrate how to use my appliances even though I knew how to use them all. That was probably my first bad experience with Amish people.
My neighbor's kid is pretty cool, I suppose. He's approximately 2 years old and all he does is crawl around the house. We were watching him crawl around and he stuck a paperclip in an outlet, and we were all, "Oh my god!" So I sprung to my feet and I broke like 9 chairs over his head because he could have screwed up that paperclip which he didn't, luckily.

Tolstoy said it best;

"My tummy makes poo-poo and it goes out my butt."

His clever wordplay advanced the modern notion of "genius." One of my all-time favorite Tolstoy stories was told to me by some Indian I met on a reservation which I was barfing on. I can't repeat it word for word because the Indian smelled funny and I couldn't concentrate, but what I got out of it was that Tolstoy drank spermacide and poured it in his eyes on purpose. Which is cool.

Other than these facts, very little else is known about Tolstoy.

I was walking home from the store and some lady asked me to be in a commercial for a sports drink called "Fuck You, I'm Thirsty."

I'm like, "Yeah, what do I have to do?" And she says, "Just look into the camera and say, 'My nads are achin' me, mama.'" So I do like she says and she hands me $100 cash. Anyway, I got a call from Britney Spears this weekend, and she's like, "Hey, I sar your commercial for Fuck You, I'm Thirsty, and I just want you to choreograph my new music video which is called, "Zoom In On My Camel Toe... Okay Good, Good, Now Fade to My Breasts."

I just hung up the phone because my dance routines are fly, but they are not for sale.

They sell "Professional" jump ropes at the sporting goods store. I did not know that jump roping was a career option. I should have paid closer attention during those job planning courses in high school. Anyway, I went there intending to purchase a rifle, but I forgot my wallet and the cashier wouldn't accept my middle finger as collateral. I'm going to start my own sporting goods store and when that cashier comes to apply for a job, I'll be like.... "Sorry dude, you should've given me the rifle for free." And I won't even hire him. Unless his resume is good.

My neighbor was digging out a tree stump in his back yard yesterday. I rushed over to him and hollered, "Hey! I wouldn't do that if I were you!" He stopped digging and I could tell that a sense of panic had come over him. "Why not?" he asked nervously. I made my way across the line of bushes between us and put my hand on his shoulder.

"Because I'm lazy," I explained.

Anybody else sick of hearing about old people? They're in diabetes commercials, insurance billboards, obituary columns... it's outrageous! And get this, on the news the other day they did a big story about old people dropping dead from heat exhaustion. They urged my community to donate fans to keep them alive!! Tell you what, I'll donate my pubes to shove in their mouths, but I'll be damned if I donate anything electrical or useful. Furthermore, old people are just OLD.... not BROKE. If they're old AND broke, what use are they to society? The news stations probably aren't even giving the fans to old people. They're probably stacking them up in giant warehouses, laughing at how stupid we are. I'm sick of this crap.
When a man loses his arm, he becomes very proficient with the nub that replaces it. He can balance drinks on the nub. He can operate a TV remote with the nub. He can even put a sock over the nub to keep it warm. When he loses both hands, he may choose to develop his foot dexterity to address daily tasks. The human body is an eternal stream of amazing physical possibilities. I sometimes consider developing my own foot dexterity, or practicing the unicorn stick or something, so as to harness the functional potential of my body. Sadly, I think most amputees are starved for attention. That's why they develop special skills. They weren't interested in foot dexterity BEFORE they lost the arm, were they? Fuck no.
I bought this voice recognition software for my computer yesterday. It allows me to operate Windows 95 with speech commands. If I say, "Open C: Drive," it responds by opening the d: or e: drive at its discretion. I was looking at some naked pictures of your dad, and all of a sudden, Internet Explorer crashed and it asked me if I wanted to restart my computer. Instead of clicking no, I sarcastically said into the microphone, "Yeah... I'd LOVE to restart my computer and wait here for 20 minutes while it reboots." Anyway, the software doesn't recognize sarcasm which is a pain in the ass because I forgot to save an important email that somebody keeps sending me called "How To Enlarge Your Prostate Herbally." That's okay, I'll get 20 to 30 copies of it again tomorrow. My computer should be rebooted by then.
Sometimes when you get a tooth pulled, the guy asks if you want to keep the tooth as a souvenir. If you do, he puts it in a little container that you can proudly display on top of your television set. Same thing with abortions.
Some kids in my neighborhood were selling drugs door to door. I bought a bunch of them because it seemed to be for a good cause. They wanted to raise enough money to buy supplies to burn my house down with. I gave them a handful of raisins and a pat on the head before they left, and they broke a knife off into my abdomen. Rascals.
I'm a telephone psychic. I just sit around for 8 hours per day, arranging paper clips and waiting for the phone to ring. Nobody ever calls. Last night I started calling random people and telling them that their children were in danger of being molested. It came to me in a moment of telepathy, I explained, and I gave them my extension in case they wanted more info. Some f-hole called back all worried and shit. He's like, "what do you know about my son?!" I put him on hold because I get marvelous bonuses for long calls.
I used to be a student aide for a kindergarten teacher. The reason I lost that job is because.... basically I dressed normal except on mondays, wednesdays and fridays, I wore large african earrings and wax lips. I also demanded that all film strips be projected onto my bare chest. So whatever.
Hey, everybody. Your tax dollars just bought me a mechanical chicken deboner. I don't even eat chicken, but I figured I'd waste my welfare check on something big this month. My city does this thing for homeless people, where they give them like $300 per month just for being hobos. I'm gonna see if I can modify my chicken deboner into a mugging device so I can steal their checks, or at least just screw up their faces. I love the whole idea of free money for me. Thanks, America. God bless.
I know this kid with a lame tongue. It just dangles out of his mouth and gets dry and dusty. I asked him why he doesn't just snip the tip off, but I couldn't decipher his response. Lame tongue acts like he's the boss of the universe. When he speaks at restaurants, he makes us put our forks down and fold our hands politely in our laps until he's done. I will someday kill him, but today I curb my rage. For in a parallel universe where tongues like mine are strange, he IS the boss.
I want an open-casket funeral. Even if my face is chewed off, I want everyone to see it one last time before I'm buried. And if my face is intact, I want them to manipulate it so that it looks like I'm coughing really hard. And I want everyone to wear a sombrero. And I want a forcefield around my casket that burns anyone who brushes up against it. And after it burns somebody, I want it to say "Nice try, friend... Go sit down." And after the ceremony, I want the doors to lock automatically while the room fills with fish and blood. And I want you to be there.
If I knew when I'd die, I'd obtain a huge amount of money by any means necessary and then I'd buy the most spanking tuxedo you ever seen. I'd tour the states in a rat-drawn buggy, rolling through the ghetto, scattering hundred dollar bills for the wanderers to pluck from shrubs and gutters. At the end of my journey, I'd hoist the reigns above my head, and with a mighty whip, command my vermin army to march heroically into the sea. The top hat that remained afloat would someday wash ashore. My testimony... the vestige of an almost uneventful life. Happy Holidays.
In Spanish speaking countries, I am known as "Gran Pensador." That's "Great Thinker" in English. I am a fountain of smart ideas, and for whatever reason, Spanish speaking countries have been aware of this for many years. When I'm at a red light and somebody pulls up beside me, I roll down my window and gesture for them to roll down theirs. When they get their window all the way down, I roll mine back up and drive away. For I am Gran Pensador.
The earth's temperature is rising. Skin cancer rates are steadily increasing. Holes the size of Texas are opening in the skies above Antarctica as the sun blasts through to melt the polar ice caps. Bad news for a world of defeatists and calamity howlers, but after every tree I level, I'm thankful that my solar powered chainsaw has never worked better.

When I was in Elementary school, a boy named Franklin taught me how to customize my pencils with an ingenious method of paper clip inscription that he developed. He dressed business-casual and had the finest posture that a tiny boy could ever aspire to exhibit. At the end of the day, I imagined him driving himself home in a station wagon powerwheel.

I was jealous of Franklin. He'd color-coordinate his lunch while I'd drool on my desk, afraid to close my mouth at the risk of dislodging my loose teeth. Now Franklin's making electronic dictionaries, and I'm scratching the "DON'T" off of my drug war pencil. I wish he would have taught me something profitable.

So let me tell you about my Valentine's Day. I spent the night before constructing a really good valentine for this Siamese whore I've been dating, but she didn't care because I gave it to her in the morning and she only likes to eat my food and watch Alvin & The Chipmunks and smoke cigarettes in the morning. So I started crying and she yelled at me, so I stopped crying. I allow her to live with me for free because she says she'll tell her boyfriend to kill me if I ever ask her to leave. After lunch, we went to the health center to donate plasma. She spent her plasma money on a whiffle bat to beat my dog with, and I bought her some mechanical pencils and a very professional looking windbreaker. It feels good to be with somebody on Valentine's Day. Even if they hate you.
Over the past few years, I've been thinking about getting an abortion. I've talked to friends who've had it done, and I just can't decide either way. A lot of people tell me that abortions aren't really worth it for the money, but a number of my colleagues swear by them. It's a big issue, I know, and I don't mean to trivialize it with so much informal discourse, but try to see it from my point of view. When you're the only person among family and friends who hasn't had an abortion, you start to wonder if there's something you're missing out on. My sister and my dad had abortions done together, and I drove them to and from the clinic. They didn't ask me to participate in, or even observe, the proceedings. It was uncomfortable, and I just need to prove to myself that I'm worth an abortion or two. These are trying times, darling readers, and I trust that your prayers are with me.

Your school district is reassessing their free-lunch roster and.... just so you know.... you're gonna get cut. You'll have to get a part-time job after school so you can afford Meat-load Mondays, Taco Tuesdays, and Pomegranate Wednesdays. I tried talking them out of it, but they said their budget is just too tight. They "have to make cuts," and you're one of them. It has nothing to do with your grades, behavior, or even your family income. It's because you're Mexican, and they simply don't want to give poor Mexicans free lunches anymore. In fact, they've stopped serving wealthy Mexicans altogether. At the meeting I attended, your school board referred to wealthy Mexicans as "Mind-boggling Conundrums."

"How could a Mexican be wealthy?" one cabinet member wondered out loud.

I'm just the blonde-haired, blue-eyed messenger, and I hate that my message is so sad. But don't sweat it. Mexicans will someday rule this country. When that day comes, the only thing you'll need a green card for is a free lunch and a good laugh.

A woman had triplets yesterday. They were born on March 3, 2003, or, 03-03-03. Not that that makes them special in any way. I mean, identical siblings are always considered one specific entity. If Ashley Olsen died, nobody would care. We'd still have Mary Kate. If they announced the news of Ashley's death, no one would ask, "Which one was she?" because it wouldn't matter. They're both the same. A single being. Between them, they possess the same amount of human worth as one regular person. This also applies to siblings who might not be twins, but who exhibit similar characteristics. Take Emilio Estevez and Charlie Sheen, for instance. Nobody would care if one of them died, but if both died, an allotment of mourning would occur that would be sufficient to cover the loss of a single human life. How about the lead singer of Creed and the lead singer of Third Eye Blind? They're not even related, but even if both died simultaneously, no one would care. Because they're dumb.
Do you sometimes get the feeling that the whole world is talking about you in a secret language of car horns and police sirens? Are your eyes spaced too far apart, or too close together? Do you occasionally dial the wrong number? Does the wind affect your hairdo? Does grampa smell like soup? If so, call the law offices of Proctor, Weinstein & Small today. There's never a fee unless we win your case. Which doesn't happen. So yeah, there's never a fee. Also, we lose a lot of cases on purpose because it's hilarious. This one judge thought he was smart, but actually he was dumb. Stylistically speaking, I'd say our brand of representation is a mix between Frank Zappa and a famous, dead serial killer of your choosing, should they ever decide to practice law after resurrection. Anyway... call us.
The disciples of Socrates drank small amounts of hemlock. They slowly increased the amount they took, eventually developing an immunity to the poison. Socrates was a casualty of social misconduct and his followers, by association, risked execution too. Back then, a cup of hemlock was traditionally used to administer capital punishment. Nowadays, lethal injection is preferred. In an ongoing effort to stay one step ahead of my crimey future, I've been building up an immunity against lethal injectables. After my "execution," the warden will pronounce me dead, but he'll be pretty impressed when I sit up and say, "Surprise! You Guys BLOW!" Now.... I understand death by firing squad is still common in Oklahoma, so I've also been gradually increasing the caliber and proximity of a pistol to my head.
I am fully capable and willing to beat up a 12 year old girl. I am stronger than most young girls, and I am much smarter so I can easily devise sophisticated fighting strategies. If you know a 12 year old girl who would like to fight me, or if you would like to observe me punching one in the stomach, please let me know. There has been a lot of talk lately that maybe I could not even beat up a girl. Well, we're going to put a few myths to rest real soon. As well as one 12 year old girl.
Betty had a baby and she worked off every pound. Before the kid was even born. Snipped and tucked, stripped and sucked... she had the works. From Botox to mo' tox, collagen to mo' collagen. Do you think noses like those grow on faces? Nope. They don't. And the dollars used to acquire them don't grow on faces either. Betty died just moments before her skymiles kicked in. She was hit by a bus full of ugly people. This is the story of the seven-figure figure.
All these commercials for mentorship have convinced me to get involved. I bet I could do a lot of damage in a "Bigger Brother" program. There are a lot of kids who don't have an adult role model in their lives, and studies have discovered deleterious psychological inclinations in such cases. So, I think mentorship can do a lot of good. I just hope my bigger brother is cool. I hope he drives a real fast car and takes me places. Super pumped about the whole thing.
I require 13 hours of undisturbed sleep every night in order for my bowels to function properly. It's always been that way and everybody in town sympathizes. I played badminton with some local kids on Friday. One of them realized I was cheating heavily, as I often do, but when I said the words "13 hours," he knew enough to ease off. His parents probably told him about my condition. I'm not embarrassed by it. Last night I was pulled over for speeding. I simply hollered "13 hours" to the cop while peeling out in a drunken, stolen caprice. He understood. I don't feel as though I'm abusing the situation. I've been cursed without any other compensation, but a few skeptics do question my reasons for not seeing a doctor. They suggest that I'm not properly qualified to diagnose my own bowel condition. I don't pay them any mind. I know deep down in my heart that it feels good to break laws and stuff. I wont let anyone take that away from me.
Contrary to popular belief, Thomas Edison did not stink like barf. In fact, his offbeat style of thinking produced several inventions that are still embraced by millions. For instance, when porn stars shave their scrotums, they use a device that we all know and love: The Scorch-a-nut Deluxe. When Edison invented this device, his prototype was multifunctional. After scorching his scrotum, he'd scorch and clean his butthole, then he'd immediately brush his teeth with it. The motor would stop if he didn't complete each task in quick succession. This became a challenging and fun game for Edison, and one that nearly destroyed his life. To sum up this brilliant mind in a single statement, it would be agreeable to say that Edison stank like barf.
We all want "noticeably whiter teeth in just 6 days." But rather than brush our teeth occasionally, we'd rather paint them white. That's the American spirit in full-bloom. And although our mouths are rotting away, damaged more by the bleaches and laser treatments than by neglect, at least they'll look pretty for a few good years. Yessir, I demand unnaturally white teeth to blast a beam of light through the darkness that my dismal self-esteem and indolence cast upon an all-around wretched existence. What does Crest offer in this category?
I found a cool hose attachment at Walmart but I couldn't afford it. I thought maybe I could donate sperm after church today, but the porn selection at the clinic stunk. I can NOT masturbate to softcore. They might as well have given me a farmer's almanac. I couldn't think of any other ways to get that hose attachment and it was driving me nuts. I took my hose into walmart and showed the guy. He agreed that the attachment would definitely be awesome for my hose, but he said i would still have to pay for it. That is insane. I remember when there used to be a store where i could just walk in and take whatever I wanted and the guy would be like "come again real soon, you hear?" What ever happened to that store? Oh that's right walmart put them out of business.
Upon exiting that night, I witnessed two black males, approximately 25 years old, chatting in the parking lot of a 7-Eleven. Although I couldn't hear the words being spoken, their mysterious / dark skin indicated that they were engaging in some kind of crime conference. I immediately pulled up to a payphone across the street and dialed 711... A silly mistake that I promptly corrected. When the emergency operator asked why I was calling, I explained that 2 black men were speaking in a parking lot across from me. She understood, and within 30 seconds, a convoy of police cruisers pounced upon the suspects and escorted them downtown. Tomorrow I testify. I've spoken with the city prosecutor and he said that a case of Dr. Pepper was discovered in one of their cars, and that these cans are easily turned into bongs. They better find themselves a damn good lawyer.
I was in the waiting room at my doctor's office before a physical this morning. There's nothing wrong with me, but I get a physical every couple of days to make sure. When they finally called my name, I got up and walked down a hall with a sexy, old, old nurse. After a while, the doctor came in and inspected my holes. He said I should quit smoking. I blew smoke in his face and explained that he is a douche bag. We all had a good laugh, and he agreed.
In Japan, there's a game show where contestants are given segments of an animal's colon and are instructed to squeeze out the stuff that they contain. Then, by carefully examining the excrement, they are to determine the type of animal they're dealing with. We get a lot of our television programs from other countries. Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood is a product of Mother Russia, I believe. It would be cool to Americanize this crap inspector show somehow. But, instead of squeezing crap out of animals, we could beat Chinese hookers with crowbars.
Long time ago, my neighbor was supposed to build a scarecrow for his mom's garden. He didn't feel like building one because he's a lazy Protestant according to my dad. So instead, he hired a street urchin to hang out in the garden all summer long. The guy was paid well in small sandwiches and he did a pretty good job. Although, I remember looking out the window a couple times to find him looking back, listening to his Walkman and hypnotically swaying back and forth. He was like a British guardsman on lunch-break, but he slapped you in the face if you touched his small sandwiches. I never touched them except once to see what would he do. He slapped my face.
I heard they discontinued support for your respiratory assistance apparatus. You better be careful with the one you got. I mean you better make it last. Nobody's really sure what you're supposed to do when the air runs out. I guess you should just take shallow breaths for now. In case you're wondering why they pulled the plug, it's because you were their last customer and I might have mentioned something about you passing away recently. It was a stupid thing to say and I regret it. I'm not even sure why I called their headquarters. However, I DO have a scuba tank that may or may not contain oxygen. You're welcome to it. But I COULD be thinking of my fire extinguisher, in which case, you cannot have it because I don't want my stuff to get burnt ever.

Muggy's dad left early on. His mom was a plus-sized model for Elder-Beerman's. I remember counselors and hypnotists struggling to connect his crappy home-life with the way he behaved, which was often scary or mad or hungry for soup. They weren't the least bit hesitant to cast random theories, but Muggy never cried.

That little guy excelled at everything. I think he fancied himself a jack of all trades. He had natural ability and motivation to conquer the most trivial odds. Hot for a challenge, he joined the army upon graduating high school and injured a testicle during the second barbary war, gratefully returning home with a serviceable pair (though one was later removed and kept in a hollowed-out bible). Muggy was honorably discharged after 4 brave years of service. He spent the next 20 driving movie stars to glamorous openings in a twinkly limousine. During his lunch hours, he enjoyed soup and practiced writing, hatching brilliant ideas and polishing his words along the way. His first treatise began as follows:

"Always wear a stethoscope. To bag a parous lass, claim that you're a corpsman, then gently check her dilation. Herein you shall not fail. A female weanling is a potential client. Always wear a stethoscope."

It was a huge success.

Though rarely provoked, his insults were pristine:

"Dear sir, I must recommend a strict regimen of heterosexual sex instead of the kind you're accustomed to. By observing my stethoscope, you'll note that I'm a corpsman and that my advice is valid."

Sadly by age 40, Muggy found nothing much to live for. He tried passing movie scripts along to Hollywood big shots. They were GREAT, but the agencies used them to line Tori Spelling's kennel. Lost and dejected, Muggy retired to the shores of Tripoli one fateful eve where he swore to end his life. Now... he wasn't a coward; that's not why he failed to die so please don't ever say that. It's just that... he wasn't very good at suicide. Of all the things he practiced and excelled at, killing himself was never on the list. Suddenly his life had meaning. A glimmer of hope cut through the wreckage. Conquering new frontier is what kept him going all along. So Muggy turned the dice, perched fast upon an island stone that night, practicing suicide and loving life, if only for a little while.

From the dust buster to the atom bomb, Hopey's Consumer-Grade Products make life easy for the modern American. Don't touch that lid, Betty! Your brand-new Hopey Natural Ether-Powered Stove Top Assembly superheats those pots and pans faster than ever. Thinking about hiring a ballroom dance instructor? Perish the thought! Simply connect Hopey's Asbestos-Powered Dancin' Buddies to your uncoordinated house-wifey limbs and you'll be a-jitter buggin', baby-huggin' and gasoline chuggin' in no time. Are you still drying your pasta in the oven? HOW COME?!?! Hopey's Imported Italian Sunshine gives your meals an authentic touch that the Joneses certainly don't need to know about! How many times have you purchased a dartboard only to spend hours sanding and de-burring the edges? Never again! Hopey's dartboards are PRE-SANDED. Ich rikey, rikey seƱor!! Waiting for a train used to be a depressing ordeal. Say, Billy... how would you like to control the trains with Hopey's own Transit Signal Mechanism and Station Clock?! Just set the time on your miraculous station clock, and marvel at the wonders of modern technology! It works because it has GYROSCOPES. Hard to explain.

Which movement are you counting on? Feminism? Masculism? Egalitarianism? What-ever-else-there-ism? Some kind of revolution or something? Be still, afflicted fellow. Downtrodden housewife. Persecuted brother. He who be stereotyped and she who be stigmatized. Hopey is the honey in your pie.

The Case Against Snorty Buttkins

Mr chairman, on behalf of Wellsville, I present you with this letter regarding our town's notorious eccentric, Snorty Buttkins. With the new year approaching, we feel it prudent to reevaluate his his place here. We ask that our grievances be seriously considered, and that Snorty be reprimanded or expelled from Wellsville at once.

A brief list of complaints:

- Every halloween, Snorty's costume illustrates a common english expression. This year he went as "a chink in the armor" and I probably don't have to mention the ways he offended our diverse, ethnic population.

- He brings a boom box to church. Although he turns it off during sermons, he keeps his finger on the button so he can slam it on if the pastor pauses for a drink of water or to locate a passage.

- He sends greeting cards to new residents, which is fine, but the cards have pictures of crucified mermaids, and he signs them as "The Community's Crippling Scorpion."

- We truly appreciate his salting of the sidewalks during winter months, but we find his summertime buttering of the sidewalks counter-productive.

- He casually calls our children "chungroids." Nobody knows what that means, but it's unsettling.

- As you know, Wellsville takes great pride in its few remaining loose-toothed caribou, and we feel that no one has the right to taxiderm them. Mr. Buttkins' grandiose estate is decorated with a number of endangered species, INCLUDING our caribou. Why is that necessary? Also, his heavily modified SUV (christened "The Emasculator") runs on dolphin blood. Gasoline is much cheaper, but he refuses to use it. He says dolphin blood just burns cleaner.

- Snorty convinced city council to replace the library's Dewey Decimal System with something he invented called the "Luey Eskimo System," wherein mammoth blocks of ice are bartered for books and library wares.

- He also used his incredible skills of persuasion to convince Crest to replace the floss dispensers on their new toothpaste tubes with pez dispensers.

The list goes on, but we trust this summary is adequate and will prove useful in your decision making process. You should know that our strength is tested daily. Snorty's antics have driven a number of our elderly citizens to leap from cliffs.

The People of Wellsville

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