Against the assault of laughter, nothing can stand.
~Mark Twain
While the majority of my career was, wisely, spent with a moderately sized broadcast company, I worked for a McBroadcast company for a little while in a part time capacity to kill time and I had a lot of fun...which is to say that I found myself wishing to be brutally murdered each and every day of my life.
I finally decided that I'd had entirely TOO much fun doing meaningful work, such as delivering programming which was immediately tossed out the window like a cigarette butt. It was a very smooth, self ushered, departure...That is, until I received two letters from the corporate office informing me that I’d been terminated for not coming to work and that I had unclaimed wages.
The letter stated that they’d been unable to successfully deliver said wages-- triggering a folly of back and forth fruitless communiqués.
After a high level of frustration and about 73 emails, I decided to employ a helpful and professional tactic to resolve this misunderstanding...I dispatched a business letter.
This is what several of my friends, family and former colleagues label a recipe for disaster.
After looking over the emails, I sent the following to the New Orleans Operations Manager. We’ll call this manager…Maury, primarily because that's his name.
To: Maury
From: Jim
Dear Maury,
I hate to bother you, as I know that you’re busy trying to make your broadcast operation appear local-- even though the majority of your stations are programmed and staffed from 500-plus miles away.
Sadly, the closest they've been to New Orleans occurred when ordering Cajun Pasta from the TGI Friday's menu in Dallas, Tx.
By the way, the deep fried Mac -n- Cheese is PURE Heaven. If TGI Friday's tossed in a hooker in the meal deal, I'd NEVER leave!
As you know, after retiring, I received two notices from your company in July. It shocked me that the company spent $2.60 on postage as this money could have been used to feed a starving African child for approximately four days.**
**According to Sally Struthers on the "Feed The Children Commercials"
Your middle manager, who struggles to draft a quarterly “Issues in Responsible Programming” report for the FCC, could have documented feeding a starving kid (or Sally Struthers) as an excellent example as to how your company strives to be a good steward of public airwaves. (At least on paper).
The first notice indicated that my employment had been terminated-- which wasn’t very helpful at all-- since, in an abundance of common sense, I terminated employment on my own.
Now that I think about it, your note WAS quite helpful in reminding me that I made a sound and sensible decision indeed; unlike my decision to purchase a "Bowflex Gym." **
**Heretofore known as the world's most expensive coat rack.
Aside from that. I found no breaking news in your dispatch-- much like that of your mid day news/talk radio program.
The note also indicated that my contact information was not up to date and that the company could not reach me as a result.
As an important reference note, my mailing address and phone number have not changed since my ancestors immigrated to this country 275 years ago.**
**Note: The approximate amount of time it apparently takes to retrieve unpaid wages from your company.
As far as the mailing address issue is concerned, I did, in fact, briefly contemplate moving to Faluga, Iraq but determined that atmospheric conditions would be much too harsh for a sustainable quality of life-- much like that of your work facility.
The second letter indicated that I'm owed unclaimed wages.
The “unclaimed wages notice” especially caught my attention as I would deeply love to visit Harrah’s Casino this weekend so that I might toss a few bucks into the slot machine.
As another important note, should I hit BIG on the “Wild Cherry“ machine, I’ll definitely partake in the scrumptious all you can eat buffet. Would you care to join me?
After my unsuccessful resolution to this troubling issue, via 345-thousand emails, I’m now reaching out to you, requesting that you contact me so that we might devise a plan which results in a successful attempt to retrieve these “unclaimed” wagers/wages and fight the War On Terror®
I'll be happy to visit your office if you‘d like.
By the way, If anyone is celebrating a birthday, I can also bring my neighbor, Kevin. He’s literally a clown. He used to be a pornographic film actor but that's an entirely long story which would be inappropriate to discuss in a professional business dispatch.
Kevin has just completed Ringling Brother’s Clown College which, oddly, is managed more efficiently than your facility.
I shall look forward to a call this week and eagerly await your advice as to how I might proceed in retrieving the casino money…I mean, “unclaimed” wages.
Regards,
Jim
P.S. Can you PLEASE speak with someone in your sales department about eliminating all of those "Male Sexual Enhancement" commercials??? When did the United States male population collectively lose the ability to attain an erection?
To: Jim
From: Maury
Today, when I followed up with HR, they informed me that they have reached out to you on NUMEROUS occasions as well.
With all due respect, this is ridiculous, call the business office during business hours, and ask for HR. Simple.
If you want this done, as I do, simply call and get it done. Thanks.
Maury
Operations Manager, Channel Of Clarity
New Orleans
To: Maury
From: Jim
I’m taking a moment from my busy schedule to provide an update with regards to my query into the process for reclaiming the casino money…er, uncollected wages.
I took your advice...right after listening to the "Male Sexual Enhancement" commercial on your station 1-thousand times last evening.
I also took liberty, as you'll notice in the email attachment, to make punctuation edits on your previous email missive.
I will give benefit of the doubt that you sent it from an I-Phone. The Android is much more functional.
When I initially read your advice, it occurred to me that your words held a resounding level of familiarity.
Primarily because I have executed your precise set of instructions on several occasions for three months. Of course, unfortunately, I've also gained 5-pounds over this same time period. This is due to the fact that, at Popeye's, the savings NEVER stop with their value menu! I'm on a budget because you have all of my money.
I suspect that a 6-year old would have taken it upon his/herself to follow your protocol in resolving this matter. Happily, I now feel great relief that I'm smarter than a 6-year old.**
**Unless you ask my ex-girlfriend.
Not being one to pessimistically give in to adversity, much like the United Nations, The EU or those who negotiate with terrorists, I gave your instructions their due attention and called the business line.
After being placed on eternal hold, forced to listen to what I can only describe as broadcast doo doo, I left HR another voicemail.
I’m rather embarrassed to admit it, but I’ve become somewhat romantically involved with the HR voicemail system. Your executive assistant sounds HOT!!
As far as HR reaching out on “numerous” occasions, you should know that they left a message after my initial query and I returned the call. They were, again, unavailable but called back and left a voicemail for me. I called back and they were, again, unavailable.**
**This is what irritating, boring people call “phone-tag.”
Let’s break this down with a fun math analogy:
Maury Mathematics
HR making an initial call + Me returning the call + HR making a return call = “Numerous” HR attempts to reach out.
The Rest Of The World Mathematics
HR making an initial call + HR making a return call = Two calls
**(And me having sexual fantasies about a voice mailbox recording.)
I give benefit of the doubt in allowing for the possibility that my continued unsuccessful attempts to make contact this particular week might be due to “Super Bowl Fever.”
GO PACKERS!!
As a courtesy, I’ll keep you apprised of the outcome but, in the meantime, please do not hesitate to call with any updates, helpful pointers or if you have any financial interest in getting in on my Super Bowl Pool.
I like you Maury…probably more so than a man should like another man. Are you busy Friday evening?
Regards,
Jim
To: Jim
From: Maury
With all due respect, Jim, I don’t care for your tone or silliness. And, quite frankly, I think you are being downright rude. We will cut a check today though.
To: Maury
From: Jim
My manners are indeed lacking and I feel absolutely terrible that I didn't exert better efforts over the course of seeing you each and every day in the radio empire to tell you a bit more about myself but you usually whisked past me, looking at the floor, as though you'd been summoned to the White House Situation Room.
I also would have told you in the initial job interview but you were at the golf course that day and staffed it out to that creepy Program Director.
Anyway, enough about your "hands-off" management style...here's a little bit about me:
5' 11''
160 and a half pounds
Decent athletic build
Blonde hair
Blue eyes
Above average private parts (I've been told)
Clinically insane
Taurus
If you would, please pass the above info on to the HR assistant lady
Thank you for the rapid response to my inquiry, as I can now stop taking out my frustration upon the cat.
I can either pick up the check at your offices or, even better, why don't you join me at the casino this evening? It's "Taco Tuesday" and that can only mean ONE thing...We will skip the tacos and drink $100 in 2-for-1 Margaritas and throw up on someone's lawn!
Regards,
Jim
Maury left a check for me at the front desk the following morning. I'm happy to report that I wasn't taken into custody but I finally met the voicemail woman. She met me for margaritas at the casino later that night.
She is, indeed, quite attractive.
copyright Pontchartrain Press 2011
Author's Note: This little piece is dedicated to my mother and father. My dad provided more accidental comedy than I could even begin to write in this lifetime...but I'm trying
Today, however, marks 2-years since my mom's passing and I'm abundantly thankful for her deep appreciation for my ascerbic sense of humor.
Even though she had to endure numerous parent-teacher conferences because of it, she never missed an opportunity to encourage me to push forward in reaching my hopes and dreams.
While I miss her so much today, I take comfort in that I'm thankful for her love and support everyday. So...She and my father are always with me I suppose. And now they're with you, in spirit, in this particular writing piece.
As a side note, no employees were harmed in the making of this story (except me) and, Maury is no longer with the company. What a shock! Hope he got his final paycheck.
Sunday, February 27, 2011
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Lost In Translation
I found passion for writing at an early age. Whether or not I’m any good at it isn’t for me to decide…but, I enjoy it.
I give full credit to Mr. Miller…my fourth grade teacher. Mr. Miller often sent letters and notices home to my parents and, in order to save him unnecessary embarrassment which could potentially befall someone charged with the daunting task of shaping young minds, I’d return his notes before delivering them.
Mr. Miller was about 147 years old-- which presents an abundance of clarity as to why he smelled funny. He also went to the bathroom a lot and often fell asleep at his desk with false teeth dangling from his mouth in a puddle of drool.
I now understand that this was a primary reason as to why Mr. Miller was always so grumpy.
I often highlighted spelling errors and offered helpful wording and/or sentence structure recommendations on his notes because I felt that his unfavorable assessments of me would carry more weight with my mom and dad if they were a bit more polished.**
**Note: Hats off to my 3rd grade teacher, Ms. Hanner. She was an excellent teacher in the area of English composition.
Neither Mr. Miller nor the school principal seemed to find my recommendations helpful at all. In fact, my dad held even stronger feelings on the subject.
As I recall, my father was buddies with the school principal, Mr. Granstaff. Dad often asked if I knew exactly how and why my antics at school made things difficult for him. I astutely and, I believe correctly, replied:
"Because it likely made things uncomfortable for the two of them when he and Mr. G. got drunk every weekend watching football."
This is about the same time frame that my dad threatened to send me away to the local military academy.
Many of us seem to take “getting to the point“ as offensive or curt…especially when it’s presented in written form. Then again, perhaps it depends on the topic.
Examples:
Dear Jim,
I loved that story about the ways people quit their jobs…especially your resignation letter. Just wanted to drop you a quick note and let you know.
Love your writing dude!
Doug
Dear Mr. Patrick,
Our client, Chase Bank, has turned this account over to our office in order to take legal avenues to collect the $10, 872.50 owed.
So that we might collect full payment on your balance due without legal action, please call our office immediately.
Admittedly, I realize that my written words might be taken in a way in which they were not intended. It goes without saying that my SPOKEN words have the aforementioned effect.
I began my writing "Road to Recovery" by practicing on a friend of mine with a Happy Birthday sentiment on her Facebook page.
I believe that it was a strong and positive exercise in getting to the point without creating an awkward or odd aura associated with conveying my point.
As the corporate mantra, from my former employer, goes, perhaps "Less IS more."
Hey there...Hope you’re having a great day!
I had a slight problem in securing your birthday present.
It was not an elaborate gift idea but I thought you’d like it. It’s a rather long story, so I shall give you the short version.
My friend, Chris, visits South America every other year. Did you know that South America is the 4th largest continent in the world? They also broke off ties with the West (super continent-- Gondwanaland) around 135 million years ago.
It had something to do with health care reform, I suspect, but I can’t seem to substantiate this theory. Rush Limbaugh is working dilligently to confirm it, so I will sleep better, taking great comfort in the knowledge that he is on the case.
Anyway, Chris left for his trip, along with his buddy Phillip, last month for a guided expedition. I concluded that it would be great to seize this unique opportunity by having Chris capture and bring back a Collared Peccary.
Since you're a lover of animals, I just KNEW that this would be the perfect little pet!
Peccaries are cute little hoofed mammals (12-16inches) and eat berries, nuts, insects and roots.**
**(Note: Not the kind of “nuts” who live in New Orleans...or my ex-girlfriend)
Of course, because of their tendency to overeat, they also devour entire South American crops…which is why farmers use the Peccary for target practice.
Funny, I’ve never seen or heard of PETA jumping all over THAT bandwagon.
I’ve never seen Pam Anderson, the rocket scientist that she is, pose in the nude as a form of silent protest on a PETA billboard with a caption which reads…
“Save the Peccary!!!”
Anyway, Chris managed to secure a Peccary! Of course he somehow also secured a sexually transmitted disease from an overnight stay in a tiny mountain village…but that’s a LONG, crazy story!
Due to the fact that Chris allowed Phillip to book the trip this year, Phillip cut corners and hired a crazy, alcoholic expedition guide who also only had one foot. He was missing his left eye as well. He also showed up 2 hours late...slurring and reeking of alcohol.
The guide was, supposedly, from Brazil, yet he couldn't even speak Portuguese!!!! THAT should have been their first warning sign.
Allow me to point out the obvious here…There are some things one simply should NOT book through Travelocity.com.
They were lost in the Andean mountain territory for 3-weeks thanks to Phillip’s thriftiness in not choosing an experienced guide.
After a couple of weeks in the wild, food became a major issue, as did the burning sensation in Chris’ pee pee area. They were tired of eating tree limbs, leaves and insects, however, the Peccary was in culinary heaven!
This must have been hell on earth, as Chris and Phillip are avid meat eaters. So, as these things go, the Peccary became a delicious prospect to the guys.
Sadly, I’m now able to report that Peccary tastes a little like Buffalo…according to Chris.
The guys DID manage to save a tooth from the Peccary, which I commissioned a local artist to affix within a lovely little necklace. I’ll drop by and leave it on your doorstep.
If you’re home, I MUST come in and tell you the strangest story I’ve ever heard which happened to a buddy of mine the other day!
I hope you have a Happy Birthday!
Regards,
Jim
I’ve NEVER understood why American Greetings or Hallmark won’t entertain the idea of me working on their writing staff.
After learning that I was working on this piece, a girl I know thought it to be a good idea to share a recent text message conversation between she and a gentleman she’d recently met.
I was pleased to learn that I'm not the only person whose words become lost in translation:
Veronica:
You would be a fantastic “sub”
Sean:
What?
Let's pause for a second. As the recipient of her initial text, the proper response from this gentleman should have been:
a) Thank you, but I have a bad back…and my knees are fairly weak. Plus, I don’t own a “gimp“ suit or a “gag-ball.” Thanks anyway!!
b) Absolutely! I’ll be over in 15-minutes!! Should I bring my "gimp" suit? Xoxo
It will all make sense as you read on…We’ll call this little conversation:
THE CONFUSED “SUB”
Sean:
Who is this? What am I a good sub for? This is an odd message
Veronica:
You’d be a good sub for a Domme
Sean:
Yeah? No clue what that means, who is Domme? Is he/she with you? Can you be more specific?
Veronica:
Sub= submissive. Domme= dominatrix
Sean:
Ah. Who has come to this conclusion?
Veronica:
I have
Sean:
Ah. Yet I don’t have a name associated to this telephone number. How can I domme someone when their name is a mystery to me?
Veronica:
You can’t Domme.
Sean:
Why?
Veronica:
a) You’re not a girl
b) YOU would be the sub
BTW, I’m Veronica…we met about two hours ago and talked for about an hour. You gave me your number dumb ass! xo
Sean:
Ah…Well, I appreciate the compliment but I am on the wank right now and I’m too far away for anyone. Anyway, I don't think Shannon would be the "sub" type. LOL!
Veronica:
I think you may possibly be confused, but that could just be the wank. Come back to the bar tonight and we’ll talk then.
Sean:
I am really tired and I don’t know if I want to risk driving back that far. Is there no middle ground we can meet at?? What am I confused about by the way??
Sean:
I take your silence as a bad thing?
Sean:
I would love to continue this convo, but must sleep now. Tomorrow perhaps??
Sean:
U still there????
Meanwhile...the the following day:
Veronica:
I went to sleep last night after our last text…No, Silence isn’t bad. Come out tonight. I promise you'll have fun!
Sean:
So, what is going on there? Some kinda concert or something like that?
Veronica:
Yeah, something like that.
Sean:
Doesn’t look like I am heading out.
Veronica
That sucks. I be sad. :(
Sean:
Sorry to disappoint, I apparently have that affect on women…LOL!!
Veronica:
I was going to fix that.
Sean:
I appreciate the sentiment but I don't believe you're my type.
Veronica
I don't think so either.
Sean:
Gas is getting too expensive for me to get out anyway…and I have to drive to campus 3 times a week as it is. BTW, I am curious as to how the discussion of me being a good sub came about? Can you elaborate?
Veronica
On second thought, you ask way too many questions to be a sub.
And so, young Sean will never receive the answers he so desperately seeks…all because of rising fuel prices!!
Unfortunately, in the instantaneous society in which we live, communicating with my friends via instant message or text is, as I’ve been told, a disaster waiting to happen.
I’m not sure what that means, but it prompted me to take a closer look at who I associate with via social networks. Mr. Miller...where are you when I NEED you??? Oh, you're dead. I forgot.
I glanced at my “friend” folder last week and realized that I didn’t know several people on the list. These are people who I can’t recall EVER having a conversation with, much less email or message exchanges.
Who is Cynthia Hobbs???? Wait a second…she’s pretty cute.
Via Facebook Email
From: Jim
Hey Cynthia,
I noticed that you’re on my Facebook friends page. I’ve been sorting through this page in order to clean it up a bit and, while I’m not quite sure how we know one another, I glanced at your photo albums.
Judging by the visual content in numerous pictures within your online albums, I strongly suspect that you would look STUNNING without clothes-- as especially evidenced by the photo of you wearing that revealing bikini at the lake in your album titled “Chillin’ Wit Da' Peeps/ Summer 2010.”
In the high hopes that I might see more revealing photos of you in the future (either posted to your Facebook page or by personal correspondence) You'll be pleased to know that I have decided NOT to “De-Friend” you.
Instead, I thought I’d send you this email and “Poke” you. Um, not literally-- I meant “poke” in Facebook vernacular. (I.e. Subtly saying hello.)
I hope that this email and the news of my delaying "De-Friending" finds you well and in good spirits.
Regards,
Jim
Via Facebook
From: Cynthia Hobbs
Uh…WTF??? I’m your Realtor. I sold you a house 7-years ago.
With that…I suppose it’s time for me to be quiet. Perhaps Mr. Miller was correct after all. (sigh)
I give full credit to Mr. Miller…my fourth grade teacher. Mr. Miller often sent letters and notices home to my parents and, in order to save him unnecessary embarrassment which could potentially befall someone charged with the daunting task of shaping young minds, I’d return his notes before delivering them.
Mr. Miller was about 147 years old-- which presents an abundance of clarity as to why he smelled funny. He also went to the bathroom a lot and often fell asleep at his desk with false teeth dangling from his mouth in a puddle of drool.
I now understand that this was a primary reason as to why Mr. Miller was always so grumpy.
I often highlighted spelling errors and offered helpful wording and/or sentence structure recommendations on his notes because I felt that his unfavorable assessments of me would carry more weight with my mom and dad if they were a bit more polished.**
**Note: Hats off to my 3rd grade teacher, Ms. Hanner. She was an excellent teacher in the area of English composition.
Neither Mr. Miller nor the school principal seemed to find my recommendations helpful at all. In fact, my dad held even stronger feelings on the subject.
As I recall, my father was buddies with the school principal, Mr. Granstaff. Dad often asked if I knew exactly how and why my antics at school made things difficult for him. I astutely and, I believe correctly, replied:
"Because it likely made things uncomfortable for the two of them when he and Mr. G. got drunk every weekend watching football."
This is about the same time frame that my dad threatened to send me away to the local military academy.
Many of us seem to take “getting to the point“ as offensive or curt…especially when it’s presented in written form. Then again, perhaps it depends on the topic.
Examples:
I loved that story about the ways people quit their jobs…especially your resignation letter. Just wanted to drop you a quick note and let you know.
Love your writing dude!
Doug
Our client, Chase Bank, has turned this account over to our office in order to take legal avenues to collect the $10, 872.50 owed.
So that we might collect full payment on your balance due without legal action, please call our office immediately.
Admittedly, I realize that my written words might be taken in a way in which they were not intended. It goes without saying that my SPOKEN words have the aforementioned effect.
I began my writing "Road to Recovery" by practicing on a friend of mine with a Happy Birthday sentiment on her Facebook page.
I believe that it was a strong and positive exercise in getting to the point without creating an awkward or odd aura associated with conveying my point.
As the corporate mantra, from my former employer, goes, perhaps "Less IS more."
Hey there...Hope you’re having a great day!
I had a slight problem in securing your birthday present.
It was not an elaborate gift idea but I thought you’d like it. It’s a rather long story, so I shall give you the short version.
My friend, Chris, visits South America every other year. Did you know that South America is the 4th largest continent in the world? They also broke off ties with the West (super continent-- Gondwanaland) around 135 million years ago.
It had something to do with health care reform, I suspect, but I can’t seem to substantiate this theory. Rush Limbaugh is working dilligently to confirm it, so I will sleep better, taking great comfort in the knowledge that he is on the case.
Anyway, Chris left for his trip, along with his buddy Phillip, last month for a guided expedition. I concluded that it would be great to seize this unique opportunity by having Chris capture and bring back a Collared Peccary.
Since you're a lover of animals, I just KNEW that this would be the perfect little pet!
Peccaries are cute little hoofed mammals (12-16inches) and eat berries, nuts, insects and roots.**
**(Note: Not the kind of “nuts” who live in New Orleans...or my ex-girlfriend)
Of course, because of their tendency to overeat, they also devour entire South American crops…which is why farmers use the Peccary for target practice.
Funny, I’ve never seen or heard of PETA jumping all over THAT bandwagon.
I’ve never seen Pam Anderson, the rocket scientist that she is, pose in the nude as a form of silent protest on a PETA billboard with a caption which reads…
“Save the Peccary!!!”
Anyway, Chris managed to secure a Peccary! Of course he somehow also secured a sexually transmitted disease from an overnight stay in a tiny mountain village…but that’s a LONG, crazy story!
Due to the fact that Chris allowed Phillip to book the trip this year, Phillip cut corners and hired a crazy, alcoholic expedition guide who also only had one foot. He was missing his left eye as well. He also showed up 2 hours late...slurring and reeking of alcohol.
The guide was, supposedly, from Brazil, yet he couldn't even speak Portuguese!!!! THAT should have been their first warning sign.
Allow me to point out the obvious here…There are some things one simply should NOT book through Travelocity.com.
They were lost in the Andean mountain territory for 3-weeks thanks to Phillip’s thriftiness in not choosing an experienced guide.
After a couple of weeks in the wild, food became a major issue, as did the burning sensation in Chris’ pee pee area. They were tired of eating tree limbs, leaves and insects, however, the Peccary was in culinary heaven!
This must have been hell on earth, as Chris and Phillip are avid meat eaters. So, as these things go, the Peccary became a delicious prospect to the guys.
Sadly, I’m now able to report that Peccary tastes a little like Buffalo…according to Chris.
The guys DID manage to save a tooth from the Peccary, which I commissioned a local artist to affix within a lovely little necklace. I’ll drop by and leave it on your doorstep.
If you’re home, I MUST come in and tell you the strangest story I’ve ever heard which happened to a buddy of mine the other day!
I hope you have a Happy Birthday!
Regards,
Jim
I’ve NEVER understood why American Greetings or Hallmark won’t entertain the idea of me working on their writing staff.
After learning that I was working on this piece, a girl I know thought it to be a good idea to share a recent text message conversation between she and a gentleman she’d recently met.
I was pleased to learn that I'm not the only person whose words become lost in translation:
Veronica:
You would be a fantastic “sub”
Sean:
What?
Let's pause for a second. As the recipient of her initial text, the proper response from this gentleman should have been:
a) Thank you, but I have a bad back…and my knees are fairly weak. Plus, I don’t own a “gimp“ suit or a “gag-ball.” Thanks anyway!!
b) Absolutely! I’ll be over in 15-minutes!! Should I bring my "gimp" suit? Xoxo
It will all make sense as you read on…We’ll call this little conversation:
THE CONFUSED “SUB”
Sean:
Who is this? What am I a good sub for? This is an odd message
Veronica:
You’d be a good sub for a Domme
Sean:
Yeah? No clue what that means, who is Domme? Is he/she with you? Can you be more specific?
Veronica:
Sub= submissive. Domme= dominatrix
Sean:
Ah. Who has come to this conclusion?
Veronica:
I have
Sean:
Ah. Yet I don’t have a name associated to this telephone number. How can I domme someone when their name is a mystery to me?
Veronica:
You can’t Domme.
Sean:
Why?
Veronica:
a) You’re not a girl
b) YOU would be the sub
BTW, I’m Veronica…we met about two hours ago and talked for about an hour. You gave me your number dumb ass! xo
Sean:
Ah…Well, I appreciate the compliment but I am on the wank right now and I’m too far away for anyone. Anyway, I don't think Shannon would be the "sub" type. LOL!
Veronica:
I think you may possibly be confused, but that could just be the wank. Come back to the bar tonight and we’ll talk then.
Sean:
I am really tired and I don’t know if I want to risk driving back that far. Is there no middle ground we can meet at?? What am I confused about by the way??
Sean:
I take your silence as a bad thing?
Sean:
I would love to continue this convo, but must sleep now. Tomorrow perhaps??
Sean:
U still there????
Meanwhile...the the following day:
Veronica:
I went to sleep last night after our last text…No, Silence isn’t bad. Come out tonight. I promise you'll have fun!
Sean:
So, what is going on there? Some kinda concert or something like that?
Veronica:
Yeah, something like that.
Sean:
Doesn’t look like I am heading out.
Veronica
That sucks. I be sad. :(
Sean:
Sorry to disappoint, I apparently have that affect on women…LOL!!
Veronica:
I was going to fix that.
Sean:
I appreciate the sentiment but I don't believe you're my type.
Veronica
I don't think so either.
Sean:
Gas is getting too expensive for me to get out anyway…and I have to drive to campus 3 times a week as it is. BTW, I am curious as to how the discussion of me being a good sub came about? Can you elaborate?
Veronica
On second thought, you ask way too many questions to be a sub.
And so, young Sean will never receive the answers he so desperately seeks…all because of rising fuel prices!!
Unfortunately, in the instantaneous society in which we live, communicating with my friends via instant message or text is, as I’ve been told, a disaster waiting to happen.
I’m not sure what that means, but it prompted me to take a closer look at who I associate with via social networks. Mr. Miller...where are you when I NEED you??? Oh, you're dead. I forgot.
I glanced at my “friend” folder last week and realized that I didn’t know several people on the list. These are people who I can’t recall EVER having a conversation with, much less email or message exchanges.
Who is Cynthia Hobbs???? Wait a second…she’s pretty cute.
Via Facebook Email
From: Jim
Hey Cynthia,
I noticed that you’re on my Facebook friends page. I’ve been sorting through this page in order to clean it up a bit and, while I’m not quite sure how we know one another, I glanced at your photo albums.
Judging by the visual content in numerous pictures within your online albums, I strongly suspect that you would look STUNNING without clothes-- as especially evidenced by the photo of you wearing that revealing bikini at the lake in your album titled “Chillin’ Wit Da' Peeps/ Summer 2010.”
In the high hopes that I might see more revealing photos of you in the future (either posted to your Facebook page or by personal correspondence) You'll be pleased to know that I have decided NOT to “De-Friend” you.
Instead, I thought I’d send you this email and “Poke” you. Um, not literally-- I meant “poke” in Facebook vernacular. (I.e. Subtly saying hello.)
I hope that this email and the news of my delaying "De-Friending" finds you well and in good spirits.
Regards,
Jim
Via Facebook
From: Cynthia Hobbs
Uh…WTF??? I’m your Realtor. I sold you a house 7-years ago.
With that…I suppose it’s time for me to be quiet. Perhaps Mr. Miller was correct after all. (sigh)
copyright Pontchartrain Press 2011
Author's Note: For our national and international readers..."Wank" is New Orleans slang for West Bank. It's an area of the metro which prides itself on nothing in particular. Several of it's citizens routinely enjoy a dozen alcoholic libations and drive home across the bridge, usually crashing into the guardrail. It is home to several wonderful establishments such as Target. And, for a TRUE New Orleans dining experience, you'll also find a Taco Bell, The Texas Roadhouse, McDonalds AND a brand new TGI Friday's!! Those crazy "wankers."
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
Kick My (mail) Sack!!
It’s been a long time since I’ve kicked the mail sack. It‘s not that I don‘t enjoy interaction with the readers, I love it actually. I’ve just been traveling a bit over the past few weeks and, after being stranded by a snow storm in the Mid South for a short time, my mind has been preoccupied with Global WarmingÒ research.
I even sent a letter to Al Gore Ô , hoping that he might be able to better enlighten me. In addition to Global WarmingÒ questions, I alerted him to the fact that I'd found a photo of him which made him appear as though he were an angry blow-up doll. I then offered to give him a hug.
I even sent a letter to Al Gore Ô , hoping that he might be able to better enlighten me. In addition to Global WarmingÒ questions, I alerted him to the fact that I'd found a photo of him which made him appear as though he were an angry blow-up doll. I then offered to give him a hug.
Two very polite gentlemen from the Secret Service paid me a visit not long after that. They provided valuable writing critique as it pertains to sending correspondence to former Vice Presidents/Presidential candidates.
We begin with a helpful pointer for the website.
From: Eric C.
While I'm very much a fan of your writing and your blog... How can I put this delicately? It pisses me off.
Granted, I'm completely bat sh*t crazy, and silly things are what chap my ass and set me off. That doesn't make me any less of a person so don’t judge me!
OK, maybe it does, but stay with me on this.
The color scheme, it's all wrong. When I try to read (TRY, being the operative word) it makes me want to book an airline ticket to New Orleans, find you and kill you.
As a result of my dyslexia, poor education, and your f**ked up color scheme, my eyes start going all crazy when I read your website.
They actually go in and out of focus to the point where I feel the need to do that weird thing you only see in bad films and/or cartoons where they shake their head from side to side and then rub their eyes with the sides of their balled up fists as if they were cleaning the lenses of binoculars… all for the sake of being wacky.
That being said, I am a creature of habit, and I don't do well when it comes to adjusting to change. On those grounds, correcting your f**ked up color scheme would probably trigger a multi-state killing spree.
So, keep up the good work…and don't change your sh**ty color scheme!
From: Jim
That may be the nicest, most sincere compliment I’ve ever received! I now fully realize what the "City of Brotherly Love" truly means!!
Your missive reminds me of the methods which my mother and father employed to coach and encourage me to excel. They'd often shower me with positive guidance by informing me that the other kids were far better than I and that I was an accident.
Oddly, now that I think about it, it's reminiscent of pillow talk with my last girlfriend. She was such a positive influence in my life.
Your missive reminds me of the methods which my mother and father employed to coach and encourage me to excel. They'd often shower me with positive guidance by informing me that the other kids were far better than I and that I was an accident.
Oddly, now that I think about it, it's reminiscent of pillow talk with my last girlfriend. She was such a positive influence in my life.
Sorry about your dyslexia…In keeping with strict adherence to the American’s With Disabilities Act, I’m considering the following design for my new background color. I think you'll find it helpful...
P.S. Thansk for reading my Bolg! Ooops…Blog.
From: Andy
Mission Viejo, CA
I notice that you goof on Nickelback sometimes. I think they TOTALLY sold out! What do you think?
From Jim:
Well, Andy, I’m not sure that they ever bought in. But, I certainly don’t want to gratuitously bash Nickelback.
Let’s substantiate your hypothesis by applying mathematical perspective, in order to lend credibility or disprove your assertion .
We‘ll do so in the form of a “word problem.”
The scenario:
Thomas gives Julie $22.75 which he cashed in at the Coin Star machine, using the pocket change he'd amassed over the past month.**
**Thomas has never had sex with an actual woman and he is a huge fan of CSI Miami. He also collects Star Wars action figures
Julie spends $6.50 on a McDonald’s number 4 extra value meal (hold the pickles). She then gives Thomas $4.25 so that he might get the number 2 value meal. **
**Julie is a greedy, high maintenance, colossal drama queen/diva and always feels the need to purchase the most expensive items-- whether it be at a restaurant or a store.
She often runs out of money, leaving Thomas to foot her bill at the bar or nightclub.
As these things go, she flirts with Thomas just enough to receive free drinks, going home for the evening with a much better looking, more confident man while Thomas goes home alone to the studio apartment behind his grandmother's house...often contemplating suicide as he reels in massive disappointment with himself for being so gullible.
Julie then spends $12.00 on Itunes, downloading good music from real rock bands (as she waits for Thomas to bring her a double top-shelf margarita from the bar)
Question: Does Nickelback suck?
Answer: Yes.
From: Cheryl
Astoria, NY
Do you know much about birth control methods? My friend was telling me about the “Plan B” drug, but I don’t know much about it.
From: Jim
Let me thank you for placing your trust in me for planned parenthood advice. It is an admirable testament to you being sexually irresponsible.
That being said, I employ “Plan A,” which usually includes me mentally undressing my 6th grade teacher, Ms. Watson. When I’m tempted, this not only curbs my appetite for unprotected sexual relations, it also makes me throw up in my mouth a little bit.
Of course, I sometimes employ Plans “C” and “D.” While it’s the long way around the block for abstinence, it involves four shots of Irish whiskey and a trip to the Taco Bell Drive-thru.
I find that, after getting drunk and puking up Taco Bell, it is doubtful that anyone will be having “relations” with me. Except for the drive-thru window girl perhaps…which would likely just be angry sex.
Plan "E" also works from time to time. It's a combination, stemming from the sex policies of two U.S. Surgeon's General, C. Everett Koop and Joycelyn Elders. The "Koop" advocated abstinence, while Elders recommended self satisfaction as the BEST method.
You'll have to decide which works most effectively for you.
From: MessaayPlan "E" also works from time to time. It's a combination, stemming from the sex policies of two U.S. Surgeon's General, C. Everett Koop and Joycelyn Elders. The "Koop" advocated abstinence, while Elders recommended self satisfaction as the BEST method.
You'll have to decide which works most effectively for you.
 |
| I just threw up in my mouth a little bit...again. |
Riyadh, Saudi Arabia
"ارتداء الجوارب جعل كرات بلدي الحارة. وأنها تجعلني تبدو جميلة
From: Jim
Yes! I totally agree. Except for that last part.
From: Melody
Helena, MT
Hey, can I send you a recent photo of myself? It’s actually from 2002. Is that still considered to be recent? I use it on E-Harmony and other dating sites and seem to get better results.
From: Jim
Sure thing Melody. I used the following photo of myself (circa age 5) on a dating site when I was researching a story at my former news room job. It was quite effective, as I received several very nice responses.
 |
| GIGANTIC DORK! |
Had I been in the market to pick up 60 year old ladies or male pedophiles, I’d say that I hit the jackpot. Don't judge me!!!
From: Julia
Lexington, KY
As a writer, you probably smoke. What is the most dangerous cigarette?
From: Jim
From: Robert
Chicago, IL
Hey man…my best friend Larry told my wife that you wrote about me in one of your stories. It's weird that he didn't tell ME since we watch football together all the freakin' time! Anyway, would you send me an autographed copy? You can send it collect…I don’t care. Thanks!
From: Jim
Yes indeed...I remember writing about this a few weeks ago. It stemmed from a letter that I received from your friend Larry:
Dear Jim,
There’s really no way to fully express this without being brutally honest. I hang out and watch football A LOT with a buddy of mine. His name is Robert. (Go Bears!)
Anyway, my feelings have become quite conflicted over the past few months and it‘s finally reached a point where I need to act upon them.
Sure, it’s fun sitting in the man-cave watching hours and hours of football with Robert, but I can’t go on living behind this wall which has simply become a thin facade of emotional denial. I think that it's time for Robert to know the truth!
It all started last football season. I noticed a quick glance here and there, a slight brush of the hand on my shoulder once in a while, but I discounted it to an overly active imagination. Surely these weren’t seductive advances!! I have never had sexual thoughts like THIS...I mean, Robert is my BEST FRIEND for God's sake!
One night it finally happened! Robert and I passed out on the futon in the man-cave after we drank 3 cases of beer and I, being somewhat of an alcoholic, woke up and decided to have another beer while watching Sports Center. I wanted to wake him and tell him of my feelings, but he seemed to be sleeping so peacefully.
So, I went to the kitchen and there she was…Robert’s wife was standing there, drinking a Mike’s Hard Lemonade. She was completely naked…well, with the exception of a pair of over-sized fuzzy house slippers which were fashioned after Garfield the Cat. Now that I think about it, she also had a Chicago Bears hair scrunchy in her hair. Finally, she made the first move! The glances WEREN’T my imagination after all!
We had dirty, sloppy, amateur porno sex, much like that of two retarded Wildebeests. All of the rapid motion, combined with the 30 beers and the jar of salsa and bag of Tostitos which I’d consumed, caused me to throw up all over Robert’s wife.
She took me upstairs and cleaned me off and that’s when I knew it! That’s when we both knew that we were destined to be together. We both fully understood that this could only mean one thing...we must devise a plan to kill Robert.
So, my question to you is, do you think the Bears have a chance at going to the Super Bowl this year?
Thanks,
Larry
From: Steve
Houston, TX
Hey, how would you describe your writings? I tried to tell a co-worker today and then I paused for a moment, trying to find the right words. I finally admitted that I didn’t know how to describe it. I sure hope YOU know! Haha.
From: Jim
I’d describe it as a cross between a life insurance policy narrative and an assembly manual for a home entertainment system…written in Esperanto by a drunken, attention deficit disorder suffering, manic-depressive vagrant.
From: Chris
Seattle, WA
Pleeeeease do me a favor. Let everyone know that it DOESN'T RAIN IN SEATTLE EVERY DAY!
From: Jim
FIVE DAY FORECAST:
From: Ayame
Naha, Okinawa
私はあなたの文章が大好きです。私はあなたの本当の長時間
uh, suckie suckieをさせていただきたいと思います
From: Jim
Will you marry me???
From: Alisha
San Francisco, CA
I love you!
From: Jim
I would remind you that written communication is a direct violation of the restraining order. It's over Alisha...move on.
From: Jeremy
Boston, MA
I do not like your writings. That is all.
From: Jim
Yeah, I don't care for them too much myself Jeremy. Thanks for lending validation to my suspicions.
Yes indeed...the mail sack is always interesting, but I wouldn't expect anything less from the Pontch Press maniacs.
I’m happy to say that since I last shared the Pontchartrain Press mail sack, we’ve picked up over 10-thousand readers on six continents.
Special thanks to the "official" followers who have been with me from the beginning, including my friend Eric. I invite you to check his blog at:
Glazedreality.blogspot.com.
And for those who do not "publicly" follow on Blogger, that's okay. It will likely keep you off of the FBI watch-list. Hehehe. Plus, voyers are sexy!
After reading these letters and the reader statistics, a powerful, heartwarming and telling story is illustrated…
...The world is doomed.
As a side note-- the moment that someone teaches polar bears how to read, I feel pretty good about my chances of gaining an Antarctica audience.
copyright Pontchartrain Press 2011
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
Drive Thru Window...Open LATE
"Dad always thought laughter was the best medicine, which I guess is why several of us died of tuberculosis."
It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to surmise that I, typically, do not write anything profoundly deep or earth shattering. Of course, with the recent dismantling of several NASA projects, there are a lot of rocket scientists out of work. It now appears that it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to be a rocket scientist.
I’ve been abundantly fortunate in that, for most of my life, I have been surrounded by people who search for the positive. They always find humor and downright absurdity in the worst of situations.
I tried this out the other day as I walked down a neighborhood street in Uptown New Orleans. I saw a pigeon squashed almost beyond recognition. This is a creature that can soar as high as the clouds, yet chooses to run when people or vehicles approach. Rather than fly.
This is why pigeons (and Mike) are stupid and will NEVER form a central government and take over the world...this is a positive.
On a recent afternoon I found myself lounging around in the dumpster of self pity and loathing which sometimes accompany a deadline driven work schedule or negative feelings brought about by someone being rude.
Even though my thoughts tend to skew toward the melancholy around the holidays, I still try my best during trying times to adopt an attitude of optimism-- steering away from the winding and dark path of temptation toward cynicism. I must admit that...
**(The previous sentence could not be completed as it is tied up in red tape, awaiting disbursement of emergency funding from the multi-billion dollar BP oil spill and Katrina relief programs)
Finding the positives hidden amongst the negatives…a sadistic little Easter Egg hunt if you ask me. In the grand scheme, I suppose it all depends upon attitude and outlook.
Let’s pull back the curtain on an ongoing highly scientific study, also known as...typical interaction with my friends.
Usually when I write or conduct research, my instant messenger is on and minimized in the background. Which reminds me, I need to create a fake identity so that my friends would have better success in solving the JFK assassination than to spot me online.
They’ll usually instant message me when I’m doing extremely important things, such as wanting to be left alone. With no such luck, I found myself sucked into the three following conversations…simultaneously.
I wish that I were making up the following conversations, as it would effectively showcase writing ability.
Incoming conversation from
Lynn:
I’m so fed up with people and many things in general.
Jim:
Could you be a little more vague? "People" and "things" are far too specific for me, generally speaking of course.
Lynn:
I'm being serious.
Jim:
Trying to lighten the moment with something stupid...much like the way when Ryan Seacrest tries to conduct a serious interview. Let's have lunch this afternoon and you can fill me in. I promise not to do "things" which are irritating but I can't guarantee that we won't encounter "people" who might further perpetuate your feelings of being fed up.
Incoming conversation from
Mr. M:
HEY...Have you seen this latest McDonald's french fry commercial? Brilliant!!
Me:
The fry falling under the car seat into a parallel universe where the Medieval villagers living in the carpet are celebrating their prayers being answered because they're starving and the giant fry is embraced by the oppressed, toiling masses?
Mr. M:
Yes! Cool huh??
Me:
I haven’t seen it, only heard about it…I’m waiting for the Broadway musical version...don‘t spoil the ending for me.
Mr. M:
Hahaha. Smartass! Btw, would YOU eat a french fry after it falls between the seat on the floorboard?
Me:
Seeing how whatever might be hidden within the carpet of my floorboard is likely healthier than a fast food french fry...absolutely.
Incoming conversation from
Lynn:
Sometimes I wonder why I go out of my way to do anything nice, only to have people dump all over me. My work is piling up and I want to have time to enjoy the rest of the holiday! Everyone took off for the weekend and stuck me with this mess.
Me:
Hang on, I’m talking with a friend who apparently is in love with a McDonald's TV ad. Which reminds me, I feel positive that I’m the only person on the planet right now who’s engaged in a conversation which involves critiquing a french fry commercial. This is a sad commentary on my life. Even worse...now I'm craving McDonald's french fries!
Mr. M:
One time I dropped a lit cigarette under the passenger seat in my friend’s car. Smoke began to rise from under the seat!! Good thing I was drinking. I poured my beer on it and it went out.
Me:
I’m sure that will be a hilarious story to share at an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting years from now.
Lynn:
OK, just message me when you're free.
Incoming conversation from Chris:
Hey man...Good seeing you the other night.
Me:
Good seeing you too.
Chris:
Hey, I went out with that girl you introduced me to, Haylee. I'm kinda iffy bout that chick. She‘s as crazy as the day is long!
Me:
She is indeed. However, we’re only slightly past the Winter Solstice, so the days are pretty short right now. This can actually be viewed as a positive from an astronomical perspective. Especially if you're just looking for a "quickie." Proof positive:
Chris:
LOL!!! Funny.
Me:
Good luck.
Incoming conversation from
Lynn:
I’m gonna take my cold medicine and sleep. I wish people knew how badly they are stressing me out this week. I truly believe NO ONE understands a day in my life right now! I'm sick, overworked, alone on New Years miles from my family...Urgh!!!
Jim:
Let me know if you’d like some perspective…I’d rather not send it unsolicited, but since I’m now free from two earth stopping conversations about fast food and a crazy woman, I find myself with undivided attention just for you.
Lynn:
Shoot!
Jim:
You have pleasant, yet high maintenance people in your world to be sure. We all do I suppose. You’re also sick with a bad cold which, understandably, lowers emotional tolerance.
It’s difficult sometimes, and I realize that it’s easy for me to sit back from across town and offer my words like some sage atop an unrealistic mountainside. But, I’m not a sage and I’d never live on a mountainside anyway…I’m scared of goats. And rednecks with guns.
Consider this, when you see someone who always appears happy and well put together, it’s not always as easy as they make it appear; it takes work. Ultimately, it’s about being about as happy as you want to be.
We all get dumped on at some point, we all make bad decisions at some point, but we, hopefully, learn and move forward. Except for me...at least today.
I decided to complete the circle of bad dietary decisions yesterday and eat fried chicken from the convenience store on Canal Street. I suppose I'll never learn that lesson.
In all seriousness, I absolutely want to throw my hands in the air and give up some days, just as you.
I miss my mom for some odd reason more than ever today…perhaps it’s a New Years day thing. For that matter, I miss my father and the rest of my family.
We’d sit and play cards or a board game and enjoy immeasurable fun on New Years Day. It was the type of fun that a 12-year old takes for granted…until he or she reaches their 30's and realizes that people do not live forever.
Today is a tough day for you, but it will pass. Even with people in your world who seem to be trying their best to derail you, remember, there are more people in your world who do the opposite.
I find myself in a small writer’s studio on this holiday with a scared little homeless cat who probably felt as though the world had passed her by.
We’re in the middle of a city which embraces death by way of celebrating life IN death. That’s powerful perspective if you ask me.
You, me, many of our friends & colleagues, complete strangers and the scared little cat will find ourselves on difficult footing from time to time. There’s no magic phrase that I can write to change that byproduct of life, but I wish there were.
I plan to greet the new year by writing myself into a coma today for a project which will not pay a single penny.
Seeing how I am not independently wealthy, I shall then look forward to work this week with a satisfied feeling of good fortune knowing that MANY people do not love what they do. You love your job, as do I, and I wish everyone could experience that feeling.
I'd say that puts us one step ahead in the game.
There have been numerous times in my chosen career where I had no idea how I could possibly pay the next rent check, much less provide some semblance of a “quality of life.” Yet, I managed…and somehow still do.
This is a boat which is not unfamiliar to you and now is a good time for you to draw strength from those memories.
I’m not a holy roller, but I pray every day. It’s not a practice which brings comfort to everyone nor do I impose it, but it works for me.
Usually I pray that I won't be sent to Hell for my sense of humor. Hehe. But then I realize that I will probably be sent there for laughing at people who fall off bicycles.
I try to meet each day with proportionate realism. I’m not blind to the absurd, nor to the injustices and acts of inconsideration which are lobbed by acquaintances and strangers alike.
I remember these things in order to not relinquish control of my values, outlook or wellbeing to those who have no respect for others, much less for themselves.
If nothing else, these people serve as a user's manual to better guide me in understanding how NOT to behave.
I also find something for which to be thankful every day. Today, I’m thankful for Gummie Lifesavers. Why? Because they taste so damn good!
I'm also thankful that I didn’t have to take a friend of mine to Wal Mart, as I greatly dislike venturing into a Wal Mart. Malls and large department stores make me want to move to a remote island where my only social interaction is with a volley ball named "Wilson" after a terrible cargo plane crash...surviving only on tree bark and small woodland creatures.
Even when I find myself at extreme low points in life and just when I feel that everything I do is for nothing…I’m reminded of the love, encouragement and support shown to me by great friends such as yourself.
A treasure indeed.
While I can certainly take self-loathing to Olympic proportions, good people such as yourself provide a moment of pause. A flash of levity which takes the wheel from my hand and firmly places me back on a healthy road.
Take deserved time today to feel the "blahs" and to pout...it's healthy so long as it's got an expiration time and date.
And so, until we meet for food later, I happily write today. But, as with the events which inspired the story “Chariots of Fire“, I believe you were made for a purpose. I believe I was made for a purpose. Sometimes I'm not sure what it is, but, I know one thing...
...When I write, I feel pleasure...especially when it's a "cheer up soon" note to a friend.
Amen.
Lynn:
Amen.
Jim:
By the way, since I’m working for free today and my cell phone provider has no noticeable interest in waiving my current bill as a kind holiday gesture, may I pass the offering plate and count you in for a donation? Hehehe.
Lynn:
Nice try. I feel better though.
Jim:
Hahahahaha! Some guy just spilled on his bicycle in front of my window on the sidewalk! Awesome!!!!
Lynn:
WHAT is wrong with you???
Jim:
Why do people always ask me that??
Lynn:
Hey, this latest McDonald's french fry commercial IS really good.
Jim:
User Jim is currently offline
"When people are laughing, they're generally not killing each other."
~Alan Alda
copyright Pontchartrain Press 2011
Friday, December 31, 2010
Whats Next??
…Now is the accepted time to make your regular annual good resolutions. Next week you can begin paving hell with them as usual.
-- Mark Twain
The hustle and bustle of Christmas is but a fleeting memory in our mind’s photo album as we stare down the foggy path into the future. Preparations to traverse a threshold that is a brand new year punctuate the energy and excitement of the holidays.
I love the year-end retrospectives and predictions which permeate television and print media at this time of the year. They’re helpful reminders of where we’ve been and what’s to come...even though we're about to careen from the media proclaimed "Fiscal Cliff."
As an added bonus, year-end reviews are so much more meaningful and deep when hosted by Al Roker or Ryan Seacrest.
Past is, indeed, prologue.
I hope that the new year unlocks the door to pressing unknowns in this crazy, fast paced world…such as:
a) WHO will be the next American Idol??????
b) Did I pay my bar tab last night?
c) HOW is South Beach Tow a real television program?
d) How are there absolutely NO nude photos of Jessica Alba on the Internet. I'll settle for photoshop fakes!!
e) Will I ever, EVER successfully make it through the traffic signal at the intersection near my house??
I had but one obligation on Christmas day this year…it involved laying on my couch eating a tuna wrap and Fritos, bouncing between a Star Wars marathon and “A Christmas Story“, then the NFL Network special edition football game.
Each Christmas morning I usually call my buddy Todd to verify that the “Santa” presents are being unwrapped by his kid and that he's still married.
I wait for an additional hour (usually the amount of time that it takes for his kid to break all of the “Santa” presents and for Todd and his wife to wage a full scale argument.) I then swoop in and rescue him by taking him out for about three shots of whiskey as his wife blows up his cell phone.
For the record, Todd usually stashes a sexual toy in Melissa's stocking. This year his in-laws stayed over and Melissa opened "The Eager Beaver" right in front of mom and dad. Hahahaha! Todd is a hopeless romantic I suppose.
Somehow, I got blamed for it??!!
Todd is a political thriller and history author. When he's not writing, he's usually making up a story as to how I've kept him out late in order to avoid trouble at home.
Todd usually gives me a book for Christmas and this year he presented me with my very own copy of a Time Life book titled:
"Twenty Largest Disasters In World History"
Nothing says Happy Holidays quite like a front row seat to death, destruction, mayhem and suffering. The only thing which would have made my gift complete is if he’d punched me directly in the head as hard as possible and then lit me on fire.
Another part of the preparation process for greeting the new year is dismantling the Christmas decorations.
Folklore has it that it’s bad luck to enter a new year with decorations still in place. It appears that it’s bad luck to put up decorations in the first place; as proven by a close friend who fell and broke his arm this year while situating a star atop his 20-foot Christmas tree.
I only taped Christmas cards to my kitchen entryway this year. I also placed a beautiful poinsettia on my front porch...which I lifted from the lobby of the Ritz-Carlton downtown.
I received many cards this season and appreciate each one. However, in retrospect, I wish my friends would have just given me the $131.00 which they collectively spent on this pile of cards so that I might pay my parking fines to the city of New Orleans.
I don't mind paying fines and city taxes to the New Orleans Municipal Government, as it goes toward important services such as:
Writers sometimes freelance and I figured this would be a PERFECT independent project for me. Some of my sample submissions included:
I never got the job. I suppose my stuff was a little too outside the box for their taste.
My published writing and blog silliness is just that…silliness. As I reflect at the end of 2010, I'm reminded of a reader email which I recently received:
Love reading your stuff from the middle of nowhere Iraq. I could tell you where I'm stationed, but then I'd have to kill ya. Haha! It must be fun to be in your head for a day...I'm curious, do you EVER write serious stuff? If you do, I'd love to read it. Have a great New Year!
Let me refocus your attention to, what I believe to be, a very serious issue about which I wrote earlier in this piece...
WHY are there no nude photos of Jessica Alba?? WHY?
Serious stuff huh? Okay, here goes...
While I believe in the importance of assisting impoverished regions throughout the world, it’s important to note that we live in the world's wealthiest nation. Yet 13 percent of people living in the United States live in poverty. It's not my fault, nor yours...but it's a fact.
Nearly one in four children live in households that struggle to put food on the table. The number attached to that percentage translates to 16.7 million children.
Between Iraq and Afghanistan, over 180-thousand soldiers put their lives on the line each day.
Whether or not you believe in the foundation for these wars, that statistic is real and represents real people--such as the soldier who sent the above email. They greatly deserve our support and honor.
Between 6 and 8 million animals end up in shelters each year, with the exception of one little needy cat and a scruffy little dog who have recently found a happy home in the tiny offices of Pontchartrain Press.
Of the above number, 3-4 million of these animals are euthanized yearly.
The numbers go on and on and on, representing the good, the bad and the ugly. Oddly, I still find myself concentrating on the numbers which represent "good."
Such as:
The number of people who volunteer for a higher cause, the number of people who make the world a brighter place and the number of people who I encounter on a daily basis who offer something as simple as a warm and genuine smile.
Those are the people who generally make me not want to throw them or myself into an oncoming bus. And...that represents the good.
Don't mistake my sentiments...I'm not going left wing or soft...so as not to anger Rush Limbaugh.
I do, indeed, act like a child most of the time, so I recently reached out to a close writer friend of mine for deeper perspective. As an historical note, I typically do not engage in conversation of a serious nature when I call Amanda because I'm usually undressing her with my eyes, but she sums up selflessness and friendship much better than I:
Anytime I'm at a red light and someone is standing there with a sign, I give them the 72 cents in the ashtray. I know these people aren't gonna spend it on food. It's not like they're one hot meal away from turning it all around.
In fact, I hope they spend it on booze or drugs or whatever's gonna get them through one more night. At least I know where I’ll be sleeping tonight, and it won't be in an abandoned warehouse where the very attempt at staying warm may very well kill me.
I don't know how to help you make your point in this article, except to tell you MY point of view on it...
Give when you can, whatever you can, to whomever needs it. Start at home. Take care of the people you know and love. Don't let anyone in your realm be hungry, homeless or lonely if there's a way for you to help.
A healthy perspective indeed Amanda. I'm still trying to figure out how she knows that there is precisely 72 cents in the car ashtray. Then again, Amanda remembers each and every time I've been incorrect about something or did something dumb for the past 6 years.
From the streets of America to a village in Africa; another enlightening perspective from Pete:
An acquaintance who served briefly as a missionary in Africa told me about the most interesting observation she made while there:
The Americans had brought some non-perishable food items and they had fun teaching the kids to bake a cake from a Betty Crocker mix. But, the kids had the most fun with the BOX. They'd never seen one, had no concept of waste and no word for "trash."
Who needs a word for trash? A picture is worth a thousand words...
Of course, I'm KIDDING! I know trash when I see it...
I really have no clever way to make my exit from this piece other than to offer my wishes for peace, love and prosperity to you in the new year.
This has certainly been an enlightening year. A year filled with ups, downs, in betweens, gratuitous nudity, laughter, tears, a weird football season, the ONE time I finally beat Todd at a game of pool and some random guy who pulled his pants down on the St. Charles streetcar line while singing a Fats Domino song...but I wouldn't have it any other way.
Life is much more interesting that way.
Here's to the new year...and many more!! Now, back to my quest for Jessica Alba photos.
HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!
For last year's words belong to last year's language
And next year's words await another voice.
And to make an end is to make a beginning.
~T.S. Eliot
coyright Pontchartrain Press 2010
-- Mark Twain
The hustle and bustle of Christmas is but a fleeting memory in our mind’s photo album as we stare down the foggy path into the future. Preparations to traverse a threshold that is a brand new year punctuate the energy and excitement of the holidays.
I love the year-end retrospectives and predictions which permeate television and print media at this time of the year. They’re helpful reminders of where we’ve been and what’s to come...even though we're about to careen from the media proclaimed "Fiscal Cliff."
As an added bonus, year-end reviews are so much more meaningful and deep when hosted by Al Roker or Ryan Seacrest.
Past is, indeed, prologue.
I hope that the new year unlocks the door to pressing unknowns in this crazy, fast paced world…such as:
a) WHO will be the next American Idol??????
b) Did I pay my bar tab last night?
c) HOW is South Beach Tow a real television program?
d) How are there absolutely NO nude photos of Jessica Alba on the Internet. I'll settle for photoshop fakes!!
e) Will I ever, EVER successfully make it through the traffic signal at the intersection near my house??
I had but one obligation on Christmas day this year…it involved laying on my couch eating a tuna wrap and Fritos, bouncing between a Star Wars marathon and “A Christmas Story“, then the NFL Network special edition football game.
Each Christmas morning I usually call my buddy Todd to verify that the “Santa” presents are being unwrapped by his kid and that he's still married.
I wait for an additional hour (usually the amount of time that it takes for his kid to break all of the “Santa” presents and for Todd and his wife to wage a full scale argument.) I then swoop in and rescue him by taking him out for about three shots of whiskey as his wife blows up his cell phone.
For the record, Todd usually stashes a sexual toy in Melissa's stocking. This year his in-laws stayed over and Melissa opened "The Eager Beaver" right in front of mom and dad. Hahahaha! Todd is a hopeless romantic I suppose.
Somehow, I got blamed for it??!!
Todd is a political thriller and history author. When he's not writing, he's usually making up a story as to how I've kept him out late in order to avoid trouble at home.
Todd usually gives me a book for Christmas and this year he presented me with my very own copy of a Time Life book titled:
"Twenty Largest Disasters In World History"
Nothing says Happy Holidays quite like a front row seat to death, destruction, mayhem and suffering. The only thing which would have made my gift complete is if he’d punched me directly in the head as hard as possible and then lit me on fire.
Another part of the preparation process for greeting the new year is dismantling the Christmas decorations.
Folklore has it that it’s bad luck to enter a new year with decorations still in place. It appears that it’s bad luck to put up decorations in the first place; as proven by a close friend who fell and broke his arm this year while situating a star atop his 20-foot Christmas tree.
I only taped Christmas cards to my kitchen entryway this year. I also placed a beautiful poinsettia on my front porch...which I lifted from the lobby of the Ritz-Carlton downtown.
I received many cards this season and appreciate each one. However, in retrospect, I wish my friends would have just given me the $131.00 which they collectively spent on this pile of cards so that I might pay my parking fines to the city of New Orleans.
I don't mind paying fines and city taxes to the New Orleans Municipal Government, as it goes toward important services such as:
- Filling the same pothole in front of my house 197 times per year
- Repairing crime cameras after criminals either shoot them or dismantle them with ball bats
Writers sometimes freelance and I figured this would be a PERFECT independent project for me. Some of my sample submissions included:
Father’s Day
Even though my dad is dead, I wish you a happy father's day.
Bereavement
In your time of mourning, please know that our thoughts are with you. And, everyone wishes that it had been you instead.
Love
On this Valentines Day, I realize that many of your co-workers will receive masses of flowers and fancy balloon deliveries. Don't be envious...just remember, I have a huge penis!
Grandson/Birthday
To the BESTEST grandson in the whole wide world**
**Please give this card and enclosed money to your brother…Oh, and Happy Birthday!
Missing You
I miss you very much. So, I've engaged in a large amount of promiscuous sex in order to allay my feelings of loneliness, neediness and low self esteem.
Boss’ Day
F%*k You Mike!!
Just Married
WHY???????
Engagement
Congratulations on your engagement. As you spend this blissful time before the big day, keep in mind that there’s still time to find someone much better!
Get Well/Male Child
Get Well/Male Child
Sorry about your boo boo. If you had a stronger male role model in your life you wouldn't be such a sissy.
Baby Daddy/ Father's Day
To: _____________________________
Insert name(s) here
HAPPY FATHER'S DAY!
Baby Daddy/ Father's Day
To: _____________________________
Insert name(s) here
HAPPY FATHER'S DAY!
My published writing and blog silliness is just that…silliness. As I reflect at the end of 2010, I'm reminded of a reader email which I recently received:
Love reading your stuff from the middle of nowhere Iraq. I could tell you where I'm stationed, but then I'd have to kill ya. Haha! It must be fun to be in your head for a day...I'm curious, do you EVER write serious stuff? If you do, I'd love to read it. Have a great New Year!
Let me refocus your attention to, what I believe to be, a very serious issue about which I wrote earlier in this piece...
WHY are there no nude photos of Jessica Alba?? WHY?
Serious stuff huh? Okay, here goes...
While I believe in the importance of assisting impoverished regions throughout the world, it’s important to note that we live in the world's wealthiest nation. Yet 13 percent of people living in the United States live in poverty. It's not my fault, nor yours...but it's a fact.
Nearly one in four children live in households that struggle to put food on the table. The number attached to that percentage translates to 16.7 million children.
Between Iraq and Afghanistan, over 180-thousand soldiers put their lives on the line each day.
Whether or not you believe in the foundation for these wars, that statistic is real and represents real people--such as the soldier who sent the above email. They greatly deserve our support and honor.
Between 6 and 8 million animals end up in shelters each year, with the exception of one little needy cat and a scruffy little dog who have recently found a happy home in the tiny offices of Pontchartrain Press.
Of the above number, 3-4 million of these animals are euthanized yearly.
The numbers go on and on and on, representing the good, the bad and the ugly. Oddly, I still find myself concentrating on the numbers which represent "good."
Such as:
The number of people who volunteer for a higher cause, the number of people who make the world a brighter place and the number of people who I encounter on a daily basis who offer something as simple as a warm and genuine smile.
Those are the people who generally make me not want to throw them or myself into an oncoming bus. And...that represents the good.
Don't mistake my sentiments...I'm not going left wing or soft...so as not to anger Rush Limbaugh.
I do, indeed, act like a child most of the time, so I recently reached out to a close writer friend of mine for deeper perspective. As an historical note, I typically do not engage in conversation of a serious nature when I call Amanda because I'm usually undressing her with my eyes, but she sums up selflessness and friendship much better than I:
Anytime I'm at a red light and someone is standing there with a sign, I give them the 72 cents in the ashtray. I know these people aren't gonna spend it on food. It's not like they're one hot meal away from turning it all around.
In fact, I hope they spend it on booze or drugs or whatever's gonna get them through one more night. At least I know where I’ll be sleeping tonight, and it won't be in an abandoned warehouse where the very attempt at staying warm may very well kill me.
I don't know how to help you make your point in this article, except to tell you MY point of view on it...
Give when you can, whatever you can, to whomever needs it. Start at home. Take care of the people you know and love. Don't let anyone in your realm be hungry, homeless or lonely if there's a way for you to help.
A healthy perspective indeed Amanda. I'm still trying to figure out how she knows that there is precisely 72 cents in the car ashtray. Then again, Amanda remembers each and every time I've been incorrect about something or did something dumb for the past 6 years.
From the streets of America to a village in Africa; another enlightening perspective from Pete:
An acquaintance who served briefly as a missionary in Africa told me about the most interesting observation she made while there:
The Americans had brought some non-perishable food items and they had fun teaching the kids to bake a cake from a Betty Crocker mix. But, the kids had the most fun with the BOX. They'd never seen one, had no concept of waste and no word for "trash."
Who needs a word for trash? A picture is worth a thousand words...
Of course, I'm KIDDING! I know trash when I see it...
I really have no clever way to make my exit from this piece other than to offer my wishes for peace, love and prosperity to you in the new year.
This has certainly been an enlightening year. A year filled with ups, downs, in betweens, gratuitous nudity, laughter, tears, a weird football season, the ONE time I finally beat Todd at a game of pool and some random guy who pulled his pants down on the St. Charles streetcar line while singing a Fats Domino song...but I wouldn't have it any other way.
Life is much more interesting that way.
Here's to the new year...and many more!! Now, back to my quest for Jessica Alba photos.
HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!
For last year's words belong to last year's language
And next year's words await another voice.
And to make an end is to make a beginning.
~T.S. Eliot
coyright Pontchartrain Press 2010
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