Tisher and Adam

Customer Appreciation Day

2012-01-27T21:31:00.000-08:00

Today here at the Tisher and Adam blog is Customer Appreciation Day. This term has lost some of it's original meaning, so I will remind you what it used to mean oh so long ago. Customer Appreciation Day used to be about taking time out to show your customers how much you really value them. The way matters stand now, everyday is Customer Appreciation Day because the customers hold the stores ransom, demanding complete submission from the workers. You have to gently stroke them, even while they lash you, otherwise you will be beaten (more.) Workers are held at figurative gun point by the psycho consumers they serve, fearing reprimand or worse loss of job for even the slightest mishap or contradiction of their every demand.

At the Tisher and Adam Blog, we don't have that kind of relationship with our readers. One, we don't have that kind of disgusting level of success that for some reason causes you to have to ingratiate yourself with people (maybe it's guilt.) We do honest business and are confident about the product we are selling. Therefore, we don't kiss anybody's ass. And since we don't make a regular habit out of ass kissing, we feel obligated once a year to make a special point to do it. THAT'S what Customer Appreciation Day is all about. Kissing your ass. So here it goes......

SMMMMMMMMMMMMOOOOOOOOOOCCCCCHHHHHHH!!!!! (You're so wonderful, please know we couldn't exist without you, you really are very important to us. Despite all the neglect and abuse.)

There, consider your ass kissed. See, that's how abusive relationship's function, and it's what makes the woman keep coming back. Neglect, abuse, with the extremely rare instance of affection. It's a winning combination, sure to make people irresistibly drawn to you. Because it's the people that don't give a shit about us the most that we admire the most. And the real ass kissers, we fucking hate.

Clever Observations #367

2011-01-23T19:29:00.001-08:00

When you're out walking and pair of people passes you, notice how their conversation lags as they pass you. It will hold on filler words and then is expertly timed to resume once you are out of earshot.

This little trick might be exposed by walking backwards as they pass you. They won't be able start talking again, but as long as you can't be accused of following them, they won't be able to confront you. An awkward silence will result and you will wonder what in the world you are doing.

Winter Holiday Post, SPECIAL EDITION

2010-11-15T18:53:00.000-08:00

The BREAKFAST NOOK
a play

The scene is a cozy breakfast nook. It is cluttered with things, you can imagine what: magazines, cookbooks, and school notebooks on the table, old tennis shoes on the floor against the wall, a basketball under the table, homemade sculptures, an old cactus, and a piece of yarn on the windowsill, etc etc etc. It's morning, before dawn. Two children sit eating eggs. Mom is in the kitchen cooking blueberry muffins. Dad is upstairs shaving. The blinds are drawn, darkness can be seen through the cracks. It is quiet, except for Mom bustling in the kitchen, and the occasional monosyllable replies from the kids.
MOM-Excited about school?
PATRO----(shit, I almost wrote PATROKALES. Is that even how you spell it? Shit, that would be hilarious. A little kid as some legendary Greek warrior, sitting in the breakfast nook eating eggs with his brother! Anyways, I meant to write "Patrick", not PATROKALES. )
PATRICK-Yes, Mom.
MOM-What do you plan to do today?
PATRICK-Defeat the Troj---(SHIT!!! HA! Now I've really done it. Defeat the TROJANS?! No way some little kid is going to do that. Well, anyways, Patrokales doesn't even do that. Should I be spelling that some other way? That doesn't look right. I know there's the version with the "k", that's like the Greek one, then there's the one with the "c". But still...It's cool the way the Greeks spell everything with "k's", and have everything in capital letters and everything.)
PATRICK-We're going on a field trip, Mom.
MOM-Is your brother going?
PATRICK-No.
HENRY-Yes.
PATRICK-No you're not, Henry.
(Henry smiles.)
PATRICK-MOM! Henry says he's going on the field trip and he's not!
(enter Dad)
(I thought for a second, what if Dad was Ajax? That would be cool. And he commits hari kari right in the kitchen, before going to work. Boss-Johnson, why were you late for work?
JOHNSON-Oh, got tied up honorably killing myself, boss.)
JOHNSON- (I guess I'm calling him Johnson, now.) What's all this fuss about? Patrokales? Ajax? (Ajax is the son, now.)
AJAX-Patrokales spit at me.
PATROKALES-Did not!
AJAX-Did too!
JOHNSON-SHUUT UPP!! It's a madhouse in here. A man can't even hear himself think. Gotta think, Johnson, think. (sits down at the Breakfast Nook, puts his head in his hands. The kids stare, stupified.)
MOM-Dear? What's wrong?
JOHNSON-Not you too, Woman. Back into the kitchen! Goddamn it! (slams fist onto table.) A man needs to have his space. He doesn't need to be pestered and nagged all the time...He's trying so hard to make his family happy. Why can't he come downstairs and have a nice, peaceful breakfast, without ALL THE YELLING AND SCREAMING?! (JOHNSON leaps into the air, runs into the kitchen, grabs a butcher knife out of the drawer and plunges it into his chest. The kids scream and run to their mother. Johnson staggers over to the BREAKFAST NOOK. He sits down peacefully at the little table. He smiles. He picks up one of the homemade sculptures, a little dinosaur made of clay, and turns it over in his hands.)
JOHNSON-You make this at school, Henry?
HENRY (no longer Greek. The tragedy is almost over.)-Yes, Dad.
JOHNSON-It's nice. Very nice. Sorry, Boss.
(JOHNSON drops the dinosaur, slumps over against the wall, and dies. Blood runs down his pant leg and gathers around the soles of the old sneakers.)

Jalapeno pt I

2009-07-21T14:15:00.000-07:00

Jonathan approaches his friend's door and knocks. A commotion of loud music is heard within.
From inside he hears: "Come in!"
Jonathan opens the door and walks in. Smoke fills the living room. A stereo blares loud
pumping music. A voice from the
kitchen yells: "Come in, have seat! One sec!" The smoke is really bad, it seems to be burning
Jonathan's eyes. He squints slightly and fans smoke away.
Jonathan says to himself, "Is that jalapenos? " He sniffs the smokey air and coughs slightly.
He yells to the kitchen: "Are you cooking jalapenos?, some kind of peppers or
something?"
"No! Asparagus and roast beef!" the host yells.
"I could've sworn it was jalapenos..."the guest mutters, trailing off. He appears to be lost in
thought.
Suddenly a vision appears to him, it is a jalapeno with the face of a man. The
face begins speaking to
him. "It's jalapenos, Jonathan. Can't you tell by the smell? That's what he's cooking, you
know."
The face smiles and then disappears.
The guest walks to the kitchen. "Hey, what's going on here," he sounds alarmed.
The host smiles, and holds up a frying pan which he has just been holding over an open flame.
On the frying pan lay three very large jalapenos, smoking and glistening with oil and grease.
The guest jumps back slightly, horrified, but trying to conceal it.
"Just cooking us some supper," the host replies, smiling again. "I'm so glad you're here, by the
way."
He looks at Jonathan for awhile, then goes back to cooking.
"I thought you said roast beef," Jonathan mutters as he leaves the kitchen.
He walks back to the living room and sits down on the sofa. The jalapeno appears to him again. This time it seems angry.
Jonathan implores it: "I don't know what's going on here. Please help me."
The jalapeno replies, "You're in a very bad situation now, you understand."
"What should I do?" Jonathan asks.
The jalapeno shakes it's head and disappears.
Out of the kitchen comes the
host, carrying a smoking plate of food. He sets it on the table infront of Jonathan, then sits across from his guest. He is apparently delighted to be serving
his guest.
Jonathan looks down at his plate and frowns. It is one of the jalapenos he saw before,
only now it has shrunk considerably. It does not look appetizing; it is bursting
with some sort of filling.
"Mmm, looks good," Jonathan says.
"It's crab," the host replies, beaming.
"Hmm."
They begin eating, silently.
"May I have some water?" Jonathan asks. He is beginning to sweat.
The host runs to the kitchen for a glass.

(to be continued...)

How To Become a Writer in 12 Steps: PART IV

2009-07-03T20:07:00.000-07:00

We all want to be writers, it's a fact. The reason is simple: we want to create our own reality. And in fact, we already ARE writers. We create our own reality every day. Not through writing always, but through how we view the world. Take a quick scenario. You see a man driving a large pick-up truck. How do you interpret it? In other words, how do you WRITE it, IN YOUR MIND? Are you a pansy-ass liberal who sees the truck as a worthless status symbol? Or are you an asshole conservative who doesn't give a shit about anyone else and drives whatever the fuck he wants? Or, are you an enlightened piece of shit who delights in all human life, regardless of the trappings of this physical world? Either way, you are a piece of shit, no matter how you view the world. And that is the fourth lesson in our series.

STAY TUNED FOR PART FIVE: Getting Down To Brass Tacks--Writing Page One

Did You Know?

2009-06-28T13:39:00.000-07:00

Did You Know?
A rooster is a male chicken and does not produce eggs. Only the female chicken can produce eggs. The eggs we eat are unfertilized, the female chicken having had no contact with the male.

PART III

2008-09-24T20:07:00.000-07:00

Don't Tint Your Back Windows Because The Person Behind You Won't Know You're Waving At Them After They Let You Infront Of Them

Let me break down the scenario: it's happened to all of us. You're driving and you realize you need to get over, but the lane to your left is filled with traffic. Stopped up. You glance over and try and make eye contact with the person in the car next to you. No go. They're staring straight ahead, cold as ice. You look again, this time intently, and point your chin at them in an upward motion, eyes all expectant. Finally they look. Silent signals are exchanged, he lets you over. You give the complimentary wave backward and "thank you" eyes in your rear view to show your gratitude. But wait--he never saw it. Why? Tinted windows.

What's going on here? The bigger picture, folks. In writing, this is what we call a metaphor. The mundane becomes sublime through analogy. The car scenario represents what happens when we close ourselves off to other people. We strut through our days putting on a front, trying to appear more important than we are. Usually it doesn't matter, and it gets us what we what. No harm done, you're calling the plays. Until, that is, someone drops us a little favor. Then, in our haste to be Mr. Tough, we forget to be human. Forget gratitude, forget appreciation, forget love. Lesson: if your windows are tinted, no one's gonna see what's inside.

The writing business is hard. You think you need to put on a front, and you're right. Publishers don't want pussies. But when someone cuts you a break, you can't straight up diss them. That's a good way to burn all your bridges. Instead, soften up a little, bend your proud self over, and kiss a little brown. You might end up getting more than you bargained for.

--end of third lecture--

PART II

2008-09-09T20:26:00.000-07:00

Part II Start with what you know.

Start with what you know. How many of you have heard that old addage? It gets repeated over, and over, and over again. Why? Because it works. But what does it mean? It means, write about YOU. Your actions, your thoughts, your feelings, and concerns. Put em on paper and people will love it. Why? Because they're human too. And chances are your life is similar to theirs. That's when you've hit the jack pot, won the lottery. When it just so happens that, by chance, your life coincides with a million other people who are living just like you. And when you capture that life, and write about it elegantly and poetically, like all good writers can and should, that's when you've got something special. You become a spokesman for a generation.

What names come to mind when you hear that phrase? Bob Dylan? Franz Kafka? Miguel de Cervantes? Kafka spoke to millions in their new unease. Dylan defined a century. Cervantes ripped open the traditional literary style and made it his own. And what each one of these brilliant men had in common, and have in common because their memory will live on in literary history, through word of mouth tales and campfire songs, is one thing: HONESTY. Cervantes rode a horse. Kafka was a fucking freak. Dylan was a goddamn asshole. These were there gifts; writing came secondary. If you can understand that you are ready for the next part.

Is This How You Write A Book? in twelve parts

2008-09-09T20:04:00.000-07:00

Part I
Thank you ladies and gentlemen for attending. Your lovely faces continue to be an inspiration to me, my grandparents, and share-holders. Now for the question of this evening: Is this how you write a book? Is this how you write a book? I ask. Well, is it? For instance, take a man who wants to write. He is an author by trade, an enthusiast by heart, and he has a dream to create a piece of reality. A slice of life. It's what Virginia Woolf wanted, it's what Robert Sullivan wanted. It's want we all want. A living, moving, breathing organism. That's what a book becomes when you get it right. Don't get me wrong, only a few people have been able to do it. But you could be next. Let's get started.

(next....Part II Write what you know)

Joke 3

2008-06-01T16:07:00.000-07:00

A man is doing yardwork when he falls off his ladder and breaks both legs. His wife hears the crash and comes running. She finds her husband lying paralyzed on the lawn. He motions for her to come near him. "I want you to feel my pain," he says. He places her hands on his broken legs. Then, in a flash, he draws a switchblade from his pocket and slices her arm. "Now do you feel it?!" he yells. The wife begins sobbing. The husband says: "You always said you wanted a tendon bracelet!"

Are You Serious?

2008-05-14T10:17:00.000-07:00

Are you serious? You little bugger, I want to know the truth. Your words say yes but your face says "no no no!" You're joking. You have to be! Who could be believe that?!
Really, are you serious? Come on! Tell me! You meanie! I can't tell if you are lying or not. Stop joking, really. You must be joking. You're joking.
Are you?! Is that for real? I can't believe it! That's crazy! No way. No WAY. You've got to be kidding.
Are you serious?

Two Jokes

2008-03-19T00:44:00.001-07:00

Here are some good jokes I just heard from my uncle. Check em out!

1. There was a man who lied in bed and his thoughts were racing, and he could not get to sleep. He did not know what to do. He thought to himself, "My mind is like a camp fire: when my thoughts are restless it is like the fire is raging. When my thoughts are calm, it is like the fire is dying down. When I am asleep, the fire is out. If I could only figure out a way to put the fire out maybe I could trick myself into falling asleep." So he decided he would imagine a fire in his mind, and then imagine putting a big cover over the fire to suffocate it. Sure enough, when he did this his thoughts began to die down, just like a fire slowly going out. Then he would lose concentration and his thoughts would flare back up like a fire flaring back up. Again, he would use the cover and his thoughts would calm. However, each time he did this, he unconsciously held his breath. After several attempts, he finally succeeded suffocating the fire, but unfortunately he also suffocated himself.

2. There is a story of a famous writer who travels through a farming village and meets a farmer. The farmer, whose body and mind are aged and worn beyond their years, approaches the writer and asks him, "What is your talent? I plant fruits and vegetables in the earth and feed my family with them. I cut lumber to build my house, raise cattle for their milk to feed my babies, and sell grains to my neighbors. But you, you sit all day inside a comfortable home which you did not build, eat food you did not grow, and create novels that no one needs. What do you have to say?" The writer looks at the old farmer for a moment, and then reaches into a bag and pulls out two books. He opens them both and lays them before the farmer. "Read from both of these and tell me which is better to your liking, " says the writer. So the farmer begins reading, first from one book and then from the other. Afterwards he points to one and says, "That one is better." The writer smiles slowly and says to the farmer, "That one was written by a farmer."

It's my birthday!

2008-03-07T20:30:00.000-08:00

Well, it's finally my birthday. I never thought it would come. But now that its here, people are acting weird. For some reason they aren't saying anything about it. I guess they are waiting for the party tonight. On the bus on my way to work they were being very secretive about everything. When I asked John, who was sitting across from me, he gave me a blank stare and pretended not to know anything! He's really good! All I am worried about is how I will know where it is. I doubt its at my house, no one has any keys. It might be at the office, but that might be too early for a party. I bet it's afterwards, at one of the guys' houses. I just wish they would tell me! I am getting so anxious. I guess that's the point. They'll probably lead me to the place where the party and then---SURPRISE!
I love surprise parties. I always wanted one. My whole life I've always wished someone would give me one. I can't believe its finally happening!

Crazy A's Instructional Series

2008-01-29T13:47:00.001-08:00

Tired of working on Bibliographies all day long? APA format making your head spin? Well, sit back and enjoy Crazy A's playful jab at Academia in "Crazy's A's Instructional Series"

PART I
How to cite Sour cream:
Geniusly. Throw away trash.
First--document! Who are those authors?
Second--remember DAD = Diction, Allusion, Dialect
Third-air guitar
Four-be gentle, IT AINT SUSHI!

Dip finger in sour cream, spread over lips. Insert taco into hand. Make an "o" with your lips. Slide taco in. Swallow.

Pitch Notes

2008-01-23T14:41:00.002-08:00

Ladies and Gentlemen, thank you for taking the time to view my presentation here today. (Bow.)
I have an idea here (whip sheet off of easel) that could make us all very wealthy! (Make money-grubbing motion with fingers.)

I have the hot new program that will appeal to adults, teens, and child-to-tween viewers. Crossover appeal is the next big untapped market in the television reservoir and we can harness it, also we could put episodes for download on iTunes.

What does "the Office" have in common for viewers? Everyone has a job, except kids, so everyone who isn't a kid can relate to it. What does "Sesame Street" have in common for kids? Kids learn all day at school, so they are used to learning when they get home, they even have to do homework. It couldn't be more clear! Learning is a job for children! Teens learn and have jobs so they will be especially hit hard by our show which combines the two! (Whip sheet off of easel.)

"FUN MUSEUM" is an hour of dramatic and comedic television that combines a workplace scenario at an institution of learning! And I even really worked at a museum so I CAN WRITE IT FOR YOU.

The main characters are:

AMANDA - an adorable but scatterbrained teen waitress who works in the Museum coffee shop but dreams of being a major star!

TED - The dinosaur bone expert is a nerdy but funny teen who is good at his job but can't get AMANDA to notice him.

MR. PEABODY - The museum director who seems to care only about money and his catch-phrase ("I want to see 10 times the foot traffic!") but really has a nice heart and would help TED however he can. TED maybe is poor, too.

RAUOUL - An immigrant who cares only about money, and idolizes Mr. Peabody.

DR. STEVENS - the red-haired female head of the paleontology department who will become very important by season two!

TAMARA - An elementary school tween who comes to the museum every day and is always in the way.

The core of the show is a very simple tension between Ted Sherman and Amanda Robbins. But meanwhile there is also raucous comedy, like the time that really happened to me where someone brought a dog into the museum! I said "OK" but then my boss (The real-life Mr. Peabody? I'll never say!) told me it might bite someone and drive down foot traffic. So I had to go find it! This could be a running gag. Or what if there's one where they think the museum might close and there has to be a fund-raising concert! Ted could play a song to Amanda!

Thank you for your time, I'll leave these photocopies. (Pass out photocopies.) My e-mail is on the back.

TOTAL TIME: 13 minutes.

Important

2008-01-23T02:51:00.000-08:00

PLEAASE FORWARD THIS to as MANY poeeple as possible! If you do not forward this in the nest 48 hrs. Your eyes will be chopped off by a real killer!

A thousand years ago in new york city when it was still an indian village there lived a little girl named MeKong (Crazy Tree). she was killed by white men who had poisend the river and hurt all the fish. She lived on as a spirirt and she calls people to let them know if they will die in the next 24 hours!!!! Mekong will call you if you do not forward everyone on your facebook and in your myspace comments! She will tell you you will die and then she will come out of your mirror and scratch your eyes out aand kill you and your family memebers.

PLEASE FORWARD!!!

A Barrel of Trouble!

2008-01-11T23:59:00.000-08:00

So I've been quadriplegic for seven years now this November, and I've had my little helper monkey friend, Truckles, for the majority of that time. He is a whiz at the microwave and is so gentle brushing my teeth, especially after I developed gingivitis. He is truly "a great mind in a furry friend". But... and I'm sure you guessed there would be a "but!"

It is nearly impossible to keep him from seeing "Monkey Shines"!

The movie was released a couple decades ago, apparently, but I only became aware of it in 2005 when my dad left a copy propped up as a practical joke on a high shelf in his guest house where I live. I watch a lot of movies as you might imagine but I don't watch much horror because I have enough trouble sleeping as it is LOL! When Truckles brought it down to me and I read the back I grew terrified! The movie is about a helper monkey who becomes a killer! She uses her power over her companion to kill those he loves and manipulate him.

Now, Truckles has always been completely tender and loving. He even tries to make me little greeting cards out of my manila envelopes and leaves them on my chest. But I can also tell that he is highly influenced by things we watch on TV. (Don't ask me how I can tell - "A mother just knows!") "No problem", I thought, "I'll just have Truckles throw it out." Which I think he did. (I didn't even like the case to be lying around. I know Truckles can't read but some of the pictures on the box were just chilling!) But then it started showing up on Pay-Per-View. Now, because of my medication I end up sleeping a good portion of the day and Truckles is allowed to use the TV (quietly!) when I am asleep. In the last couple years I've also allowed him to order himself Pay-per-View movies if they are non-premium (i.e. $4.99 and under.) I think he deserves it. "After all," I joke with him, "you do most of the heavy lifting around here!"

Now, it is possible to block a movie, but of course I can only manipulate the remote and enter a password with Truckles's help. Thanks to that g-ddamn movie, I'm already living in the movie! I had the cable removed but now Truckles has grown restless and makes too much noise when I sleep. I guess I don't know what to do. Comments appreciated!

All The Soaps

2008-01-09T14:46:00.000-08:00

1. Soap dish
2. Soap box
3. Soap opera
4. Hand soap
5. Body soap
6. Soap suds
7. Dish soap
9. Bar of soap
10. Soap brush
11. Soap rag
12. Face soap
13. "All soappy"
14. Soap on a rope
15. Pope's soap
16. Peppermint soap
17. Cinnamon soap

Cinnamon

2007-11-10T23:06:00.000-08:00

Have you seen my cinnamon collection? It's in my closet, just take a peek. Don't be afraid. There are many varieties, many blends. Canadian, Indian, and Russian cinnamon. It smells good, doesn't it? All those varieties of cinnamon wafting into your nostrils. I can't wait to tell you about my newest blend. It's called Crispy Stinker. It's just about as good as they come. Don'y be shy, please smell my cinnamon. I know you want to. Here, come on in. Just stroll on in. Mmm, mmm. Smells good, huh?

GhostToaster.org

2007-11-05T03:32:00.000-08:00

I've been hearing exciting whispers from "someone" that this year's Christmas might be pretty different. Spell it bibiddydibbity.... REAL GHOSTS!?!?!?!

They're finally going to start putting out real ghosts! This space has been predicting it for two blogs in a row and now I can finally reveal it wasn't a "prediction" at all. It was insider news - the kind that's only here - and it is BIG NEWS!

Let's take a L@@K:

Articulated fingers
Human Style Memory
Backwards walking through objects (INCLUDING WALLS AS SPECULATED!)
No Eyes
Faster than animals

Everyone is going to be excited to watch this space! Remember to update regularly and I'll be back with a new post!

(The nature of the post obviously necessitates that comments will be heavily moderated - "Boos and Reviews" style posts WILL BE DELETED!)

I'm really looking forward to taking off my shoes

2007-10-26T12:41:00.001-07:00

I am really looking forward to taking off and retying my shoes. I'm saving it as a treat for myself. My sock has become all loose inside my shoe, its kind of bunching up in certain places and really annoying me. Also its sticking to the bottom of my foot.
I can't wait to take off my shoe and pull my sock up real tight around my foot. I'm going to have to untie my shoe, adjust the sock, and retie it, so its going to be a bit of a procedure. I'm really going to take my time doing it, too. I'm going to untie each shoe very methodically, loosening the laces all the way up the top of my shoe so my foot slides out real easily. Then I'm going to take out my foot very slowly and set it on the tile floor; that might cool it down a little bit and take care of the sweating. Then I'll let it air out a bit before putting it back in my shoe.
Hopefully I can make the whole thing last a few minutes. But I'm not going to do it right away. I'm going to relish the thought for a little bit and draw it out. I'm so bored right now, it's kind of the only thing I am looking forward to.

New invention

2007-10-25T08:23:00.000-07:00

Here's my new invention I came up with a couple of nights ago:

SNACK GLOVE!
a washable terry-cloth glove you use while you eat chips! tired of getting those fingers all dirty? what if you have to answer the phone real quick and have no time to disinfect those fingers? if you're wearing the SNACK GLOVE all you have to do is pull off the glove and your hand is nice and clean! no mess!
Then throw the glove away or wash it. SNACK GLOVE is washing machine friendly!

College Cafeteria

2007-08-28T20:43:00.000-07:00

Who are these people? What is this food I am eating? Kathy at the pizza station is pumping out pizzas. I like her, she always tells me, “Enjoy.” Thanks, Kathy, I will. Then there’s the little lady at the front door. Where are your thoughts today, Front Door Lady? And the manager with the gray shirt; you walk around taking care of business. Thanks for keeping things on track, Mr. Manager! And the team at the Main Station: you guys are great, thanks for scooping up the extra sauce for me. Especially the older guy with the squinty eyes. What are you so happy about, Squinty-Eyed Guy? And the morning guy, always cooking up those eggs. You must really love eggs, Egg Man! And the guy at the special station, always preparing up something special. Easy on the sour cream, Mr. Chili-Dog! And what about that mysterious baking woman, making all the muffins and cookies? Where do you get your recipes, Mystery Muffin Lady? And the old smoker with the long braid, always smoking on the balcony. I love you, Old Smokey! You cafeteria guys like to sit together whenever everyone leaves the cafeteria. I wonder what ya’ll talk about? You probably make yourself something extra special from back in the kitchen, I know that’s what I would do. I like to make my own special egg salad. Sometimes I eat it with bread, sometimes just plain. I like hamburger night the best. I like cooking my hamburger in the panini machine to get the bread nice and toasted and the cheese melted. Sometimes I even take a hamburger home for later, I know Mr. Manager doesn’t mind. Also, I like to make really good sandwiches. Let me tell you, there are some good sandwich ingredients over there! I usually like to use salami. I don’t really like the ham, but sometimes I’ll eat it only if I tear off the “ham rind.” All in all, when I go to the cafeteria I can almost always find something good to eat, but more than that, I really love all the people there.
November 2004

From The Desk of Scorpion Man

2007-07-17T18:02:00.000-07:00

I am Scorpion Man. There are many stories told about the origin of my name. In one of them I have a dream where I am bitten by a scorpion. I fall asleep within the dream, and have another dream. In this second dream I am overcome with the incredible urge to consume a scorpion. I do so, and I awake completely. Upon awaking I find two scorpions in my shoes. This story, as are all the others, are incorrect. The true meaning of my name will remain a secret forever.

I looked out the window, a man was standing right there looking in!

2007-06-22T23:36:00.000-07:00

Immediately did he jump inside crashing glass every which way but one; out the way he came. I jumped a leap or two over his flying body and landed back out in the grass, he looked back out the window I just had. He yelled and mooed and as I leapt back into the house I must admit it was loud. I landed feet down on an old sofa that seemed to belong to me before my house got broken into this time. The springs creaked out a groan and I ran for the stairs with this maniac right up my feet. I hopped my way through a window without breaking it, but the hooting bull man behind me observed no such niceties as the glass actually shattered backwards towards him in anticipation. I didn't have to be told twice to be scared and slode down that drainpipe faster than Jiminy Xmas. A quick trip back up the pipe from the inside was a dangerous assumption (what if HE came down?) but my storied and stored up luck was once again in evidence. I couldn't find my assailant but I could hear him breathe snorts of disbelief and acceptance and I spun around to what was heard. He had vanished I'll bet, but tonight I think I'll keep the blinds drawn.

Cold Shoulder's Ice Cream Roundup

2007-06-13T14:17:00.000-07:00

When I got out of the womb I was burning hot and screaming as hard as I knew was possible. I was red and hungry for something cold. Every since then I've been trying to eat ice cream but it always lets me down. Let's take a look at some flavors:

Rocky Road: This travesty promises chalky chocolate and gets in your way with its marshmallows and nuts. It even smells gross! Like walnuts! No thanks, I'll stick with something else that isn't exactly like --

Mint Chocolate Chip: Every time I think about how I ate this once I can't help but think about the idea of all those chips coating the inside of my esophagus like mushy brown kitchen tiles. It makes me want to suffocate to think about that on my throat! It's as bad as --

Peach Almond: Made from the grossest fruit except for nectarines this flavor is bar none the worst I've had this week. Flakes of almond feel like fingernails or toenails at worst. Keep trying Dreyer's! OOPS! I mean Breyer's.

There was a noise inside my home

2007-06-10T17:47:00.000-07:00

and it was keeping my awake at night, and during the day when I wanted to nap. I thought it might be coming from my guitar so I put it in its case after I cut the strings off. One of the biggest strings has metal on it and it almost whipped into my eye, so you can understand that I was pretty mad when I found the noise had not diminished at all. In my anger I reopened the case and smashed the guitar to pieces holding it by the neck. This didn't help the noise, but you can appreciate my minor relief when I saw that some of the wood still formed the hole. The sound hole that the strings go across. Of course, I thought, if the sound hole is still intact, sound can easily still come from the guitar! It was easy work to break up the hole, and even sort of fun which kept me from getting too discouraged at the end when I found the sound (a sort of high whine) had not diminished. At this point it was not much more work to bury the guitar (pieces) out back even though I had only slight hopes this would help anything. After refilling the hole and putting rocks over it I was unsurprised that the whine continued inside the house. I was at a loss of what to do now as my house contained nothing else except the rock I had taken inside to finally smash apart the sound hole. I put the rock back outside but of course this was not the variable I was looking for. I paced and tried to think of what else might be the cause. Was there another guitar under the floorboards? Possibly one left by a previous resident? If that was so, shouldn't it have been buzzing ever since I moved in? I remembered that I had used scissors to cut the guitar strings but then I remembered that I had also buried them outside with the guitar, they weren't in the house. The house has no doorbell. Or even room next to the front door for one to be installed, so it couldn't be faulty wiring or something. But the noise is sort of getting quieter so I guess I must be doing something right.

Canticle the Crabman; Scene 2

2007-05-20T12:46:00.000-07:00

Scene 2 (The beach of a deserted island.)

(Canticle improvises a song alone on his deserted island, as he collects berries for his meager dinner)

Canticle:
Heighdy hoe heighdy hee!
Its great to be me!
Alone on a ship...no,
Alone on a desert isle!
I'll be here for quite a while!
And this is my song, sung by my spirit
I'll sing it loud so all souls can hear it!
Hey, I kind of like that.
Hoodeehoo, picking all these berries...This isn't so bad after all. Last night was a little rough; sleeping on that damn straw bed. I'm going to have to find something better than that. Some kind of sack filled with leaves? But I'll have to make a sack somehow. An old shirt? Oh well, I'll figure it out, and that straw isn't SO bad, after all. If worst comes to worst...But oh, those troubling thoughts! Don't want to have those again, no sir. I try to have a sense of humor about it, but really last night was pretty awful. Sometimes I wonder about this world, and it scares me when I start to wander in that direction. Don't go there now, old fellow. Ah but it’s too late. Pointless to try and force yourself not to think about it when you've already thunk it; no matter how hard you try, singing some stupid song, or trying to think other thoughts and "look the other way", you know that thing is looming right there because you can see it out of the corner of your eye the whole time and when you give up trying to think other thoughts its right there where you left it...big and black and snarling...It's not too bad now, which is quite nice, but once the sun goes down, that's when the demons come out, trying to snatch at your soul and whisper into your ear all those nasty thoughts...Geez, Canticle, can't you give it a break? I wonder sometimes, what the devil is wrong with me? Does everyone have this tormenting stream of consciousness, never letting up, day in and day out, never quitting, no time for rest?! When even after a long night of sleep you wake up and it’s just where you left it; it picks up right where it left off, incessantly whispering, doubting, fearing....Ah, dash it all! That's not me! That's not even the half of me! Why, I've got all these other things, my song, my legs…
(he does a merry jig atop a rock, then stops)
Maybe it is a good plan that I get off this island. At first I wanted to stay, thought it would be a good break for me. Hey, if they don't want me I don't want them! Plus I thought I would be able to live a simpler life, collect my own food, cook my own dinners, build a shelter. I needed physical labor to balance out the laziness I acquired from my leisurely castle life. I wanted to be like a simple peasant. They are good people, so pure and free from all this nonsense. They only worry about the necessities; why me, I worry about the color of shirt I am going to wear on the town some nights, or the style of my hair, or the things I am going to say to a pretty girl...Now there's something I'm missing...Maybe this life would be better if I had a pretty little girl of my own. Maybe I'm not doing it right, and that's why it’s not working. That's why it's so damn miserable lying awake for hours at night with nothing to keep me occupied except for my eternally nagging mind. Maybe I'm not working hard enough. Who knows? Who cares?! I want off this island and I want to go back...
Back to what? My old way of life? That's impossible, I've been exiled. Even still, maybe there's a way around it. I could adopt a new name and appearance, start a new life, no one would know. Among people, and food, and real beds, and women, and beer! That's what I want, a cold beer. Blast it all to hell! That's not what I need, that's not going to satisfy my spirit. And without that I'll just be another cow eating its way toward death, as that wise old philosopher says. God, what a terrible thing to be, a cow. I guess, anyways. Some might argue. What was it the Grand Inquisitor said about that? That that's precisely what the people want? To have their freedom taken away? Then what? Then they don't have to worry about making choices, making a way for themselves, asking questions, feeling uncertainty, living life. Life, oh so horrible and wonderful! Can't have the good without the bad though. Can't have true joy without true suffering, without those long nights in the whale's belly, as they say. So I guess I am doing some good here, with these torturous nights. Putting in my time with the old devil, I guess, so I can better recognize God when the time comes. Is that right? Not sure about that one. But I really should get off this island, not to go back to my old life but to start my new quest. And that quest is to do something good and right, which means putting those corrupt officials in their places, exposing the whole damn scandal and clearing my name. Then to take the throne or not, that's another question...A tough question actually, that presents many pros and cons, and seems to have more sides than a shape from Euclid's worst nightmare, or wildest fantasy, whichever one suits him better. So, leave that for now. But, who is this off in the distance? Some uninvited guest? Well, doesn't bother me at all, really. I would kill for some company. Is that one of those North Shore crabs? Some kind of messanger? Ho there!

(end Scene 2)

Canticle the Crabman

2007-05-12T03:39:00.000-07:00

"Canticle the Crabman", An Absurdist Drama in Three Acts

Young Canticle Crab, the rightful heir to his father the King's throne is wrongly exiled to a faraway land [a bed of washed up seaweed merely a few feet from a large group of rocks, these rocks comprising the entirety of the Crab Kingdom (any land not in the immediate vicinity of this group of rocks pronounced "faraway lands" by crab people who have a short-sighted view of geography.)]

Act One
Scene One (Crab Kingdom, outside the wall of the King's Castle, which is being manned by a lone crab guard)
Guard:
Me likes to sit about and guard the castle fairly well, when there is action enough to occupy me, such as the outing of our Royal Guard, and sitting back eyeing the marching troops I can daydream about their adventures and fancy myself among their ranks (were I not such the weak runt that I am!); or when the princess and her attendants are strolling about close to the castle walls, picking the wild Gerber daisies that grow so abundantly there, laughing gaily , and playing sprightly games with each other, affording me ample opportunity to gaze on them with admiring, wishful eyes; or when all is silent except for the sound of rustling leaves of the trees when the wind blows through them, the gentle, rhythmic lapping of the waves, and the far off cry of a seagull; and these sounds all but lull you to sleep, while you entertain the most peaceful reflections about Life and Nature, then the joyful mildness that is all around pervades into your innermost Being; at such times I count my work a positive pleasure!, but oh what torture it can be when outside these drab walls on a hot summer day (like today) not a soul is stirring, the sky itself seems lifeless, and there is not an ounce of movement anywhere on the whole horizon! The air is so thick and still, and heavy, it weighs down so oppressively on my very soul that my daydreams are stifled before they can even start, my thoughts turn inward, my worries double, and before I know it a horde of evil thoughts are gnawing at my brain like incessant maggots. It is easy to dream and hope when the air is light, the birds are singing, the clouds are majestic, and everything around seems to entice a budding fantasy to bloom and grow upwards towards heavenly thoughts; but how dismal is the day when there is no lady in view to kindle any passion, nor brave troop to raise your chin and fill your breast with noble pride; no exciting goal on the horizon you can fix your thoughts to. It is times like these I begin to wonder...

(a movement in the distance startles the Guard out of his revelry)

What's that I see? A crab from the North Shore? What a happy diversion! Anything to relieve me from these morbid fantasies...But what game is this? His gait seems odd, slightly crooked, even for a crab. Is he limping? Dear Lord, has he been wounded? What is that staining his shirt? Blood?!

Messanger Crab: (collapsing a few feet from the Guard)
Sir! I...stabbed...could not help...Canticle...

Guard:
Dear Lord! Get up, sir! My God! Somebody help!

(Exit Guard who rushes into the castle to find help, leaving the dying crab alone.)

Messanger:
May god help that poor soul...(he dies)

(The Guard returns with two of the King’s Soldiers, the King's Assistant, and the Doctor.)

Guard:
But he...He was just talking! Oh my!

Doctor: (checking the dead crab's pulse) This crab is dead.

King's Assistant: Bring him into the castle. (turning to Guard) What did he say?

Guard: (tears streaming down his face) I don't know, I don't know.

King's Assistant: What did he want? He must have said something.

Soldier #1: (lifting the dead crab and hauling him away with Soldier #2) Buck up man. Get a grip.

Guard: He said something about Canticle...

All: Canticle?!

Guard: I can't believe he's dead! Oh my god!! (falls into a terrible fit of sobbing)

King's Assistant: Get him out of here! (all exit except Assistant)
Canticle, eh? So he's involved in this? What new treachary is brewing? Can't tell the King, he's no good at dealing with these sorts of issues...I'll have to deal with this myself...
(exit King's Assistant)
(end Scene I)

Meet the Beagles

2007-05-07T20:39:00.000-07:00

I've wanted a dog for quite some time, but the way people have been getting them is so stupid. I don't just want to take any dog from the shelter, because they all pretend they like you just so they can go home (I've seen 101 Dalmatians). What I want is for one of my neighbor's dogs to prove it likes me more by coming to live with me. I don't go outside much anymore so I've thought of a really ingenious way for the dogs to start meeting with me. I installed a doggie door in my front door so that dogs can come in whenever they please.

Then I got worried that the dogs might not find me once they were inside. (My house is pretty big and the TV is usually on, so I might not hear them either lol)! I was leaving dog treats like Baconlins or whatever on the floor in a trail to where I was, but I kept getting up to get snacks (for myself!) and to go to the bathroom or go to bed, and it was a pain to make a new trail of dog treats every time. (Not all of them had to be moved every time, just some, but it was still a pain.)

So I put a long strip of duct tape with the treats stuck on at intervals and now I can just carry the end with me wherever I go in my house (Not all the way into the tub though lol)! At first I was maybe a little scared that dogs might try to eat the whole strip of tape like a spaghetti noodle (I've seen Lady and the Tramp) but then I knew that smaller dogs would have mouths too small for that, and bigger dogs would probably know better.

I'll let you know what dogs come a callin'!

My Neck

2007-04-25T23:53:00.000-07:00

Dear Eugene,
My neck has been swelling really huge lately. It takes me a long time just to get my shirt on. Plus it hurts. Hurts to swim, hurts to run. Even hurts to talk. What do I do, Eugene? I've never had this before. Do you know what I'm talking about? Like there's pus all inside it. I can't even swallow my scrambled eggs some morning. Scrambled eggs! Those are all mashed up, it should be easy! I gotta tell you, this is getting old. What should I do?
Signed,
Neck Hurts

Used Submarines

2007-04-24T21:39:00.000-07:00

Hey!
Looking to buy a new or used Submarine? Well, we've got 'em.

How about a used diesel electric submarine for $450,000?
No problem.
Johansson's Submersibles knows deep submersibles are not very popular outside the scientific research community:
1. They have high operating costs.
2. You can't use one without a fucking large-ass support ship

And I'm not going to lie, many of our submarines suck. But it's probably the best you'll get.

-Johansson's Submersibles

April Fools That I Hated

2007-04-02T01:59:00.000-07:00

Here are some of the worst April Fools that have been committed on me in the past:

Little sister told me ducks were in my bed.

Father made ducks crawl into my car.

Sound of ducks in the back of my ears for last three years.

Thoughts on King Lear

2007-03-22T16:23:00.000-07:00

I recently completed understanding King Lear. Here's the conclusion of the paper I wrote which I'm sure we'll all love hearing more about soon:

Lear wishes to quantify and multiply everything he loves. "Let's have a party," Lear asserts, and pretty soon it's happening. When you're as rich and royal as Lear you have to watch out because everyone will be trying to take advantage of you pretty soon.

Lear defeats this in two manners:

1. By hiding his wealth in the cave or in the ugly doll the Fool owns.

2. By pretending he isn't that rich even when its embarrassing to do that. (For example, asking people if he can borrow their horses because he is too poor to have any, etc. In this way he also really does save money making him even more rich, also doing this impoverishes his friends slightly also increasing his relative wealth.)

It is lonely in Lear Castle and to make himself feel happy about it he uses his daughters and the Fool and makes or lets Kent come over. Lear gives things away in exchange for thank yous and generally plays the big man. Lear can never escape the crown that sits all around his brows to make him think very hard about responsibility and "What It Might Really Mean To Be The King". When there's no answer there's no problem. If Lear even thinks about what other people could be King it could make him sad or ragingly angered.

Interview with Mark Bruno: Yacht Club Stripper Part II

2007-03-21T14:44:00.000-07:00

--PART II--

The second and final part of my interview with Mark Bruno, sex worker.

L: Tell me more about the dances.

Bruno: They have this formal-style dance, like waltz, and they dress in traditional sailor uniforms from the 1900s and dance with their grandsons. They have these chairs set up on the sides. The older board members stop dancing first- they get tired out.

They sit in these deck-chair things, and staff people bring them champagne and steaming hot bread and stuff. The idea is to keep them going as long as possible. I guess it's something that all these yacht clubs do.

They keep dancing this waltz, their grandkids are crying, screaming.

L: My goodness, that sounds like quite a show...Continue please...Are you present at these dances?

Bruno: Anyways, while they're sitting there, myself, and this other sex worker (we're on our hands and knees the whole time) we have to keep these old guys going-- keep them awake, so they can get back in the waltz. So we suck 'em off, jack 'em off, whatever.

The waltz is supposed to go all night. As soon as the sun comes up, they all get on this huge yacht.

L: Where do they go?

Bruno: I have no fucking idea. They don't talk about it. But…

L: ?

Bruno: The adults all get back the next day- the grandkids don't get back until a few days later.

L: Hmm…

Bruno: I don't know what the hell happens out there. I just take my thousand bucks and don't ask questions.

L: You said its possible you only have 2 of these gigs a month...what do you do in your spare time?

Bruno: There's some other paid sex shit that I do.

L: Can you talk a little about that?

Bruno: I have a regular gig with the police department, one with the tailor's union.

L: How did you get involved with this sort of work? Don’t you consider it somewhat demeaning?

Bruno: Once you get one job, if you're really good, people tell their friends- you get tons of offers. And I’m really, really good.

Demeaning? In what way?

L: You know, because you are on your hands and knees, that sort of thing? I could be wrong here.

Bruno: Are you trying to imply that because I'm white, and went to St. fucking John's, that I should be suffocating in a fucking office somewhere?

L: Now come on.

Bruno: Instead of singing while 12 tailors cum all over my face and neck at the same time?

L: I only meant, since you DO have a college degree…Oh Mike.

Bruno: There's nothing like it, Adam. I swear.

L: Mike, off the record here, Surprise!

Bruno: WHAT??

L: This interview is going to be used for Tisher and Adam's BLOG!

Bruno: NO!

L: Go check it out now! Part One is already posted!!

Bruno: How am I going to find work?

L: Don’t worry, I changed your name. Aren’t you excited! This is one of the number one comedy blogs in the country!

Bruno: Adam, I'm the only one who works for the tailors, the yacht club and the police.

L: Really?

Bruno: They'll know it's me. I signed all kinds of confidentiality shit.

L: Don’t be such a worry wart. They won’t know.

Bruno: Oh god.

L: Surprise!

Bruno: Aaron, I am so fucked. You have no idea.

L: Well, thanks for helping me out, that’s it for now.

Bruno: Mark Bruno is my fucking stage name, you idiot!!

L: Umm…

Bruno: I'm fucked! I'm going to sue Tisher's fucking ass off!

L: Well, you shouldn’t do that.

Bruno: Also, I’m not a fucking stripper. I'm a sex worker; we have uniforms.

L: Is that going to be a problem? I guess I was a little confused at first.

Bruno: Yeah, well it's not a world that many white-bread college kids get to see, is it?

Interview with Mark Bruno: Yacht Club Stripper

2007-03-20T13:26:00.000-07:00

I spoke with person, Mark Bruno, for my series People and Their Jobs. Mark tells us a little bit about his job as Yacht Club Stripper.

PART I:

L-Could you tell me what you do?

Bruno-I am a sex worker.

L- (haha)

Bruno- I have sex with men at yacht club events.

L- Oh.

Bruno- i get $1000 a month no matter what. Sometimes that means 10 events, sometimes two or three.

L-What exactly do you do at these events? Could you describe it a little?

Bruno-I...There are these dances.

L- Yes?

--END PART I--

With a little foresight...

2007-03-14T19:13:00.000-07:00

Put a glass of milk in the freezer before you hop in the shower. That way, when you're done, you'll have a glass of ice cold milk to dip your cookies in. With just a little foresight...
Sing a song to your pets at night. When you grow older and start to depend on them, they'll remember those kind songs you sang them and treat you like a king. With just a little foresight...

Krazy A's UPDATE

2007-03-08T18:02:00.000-08:00

Krazy A's UPDATE:

To All Restauarant Goers:
Are you tired of THIS happening?: You are sitting comfortably at a restaurant eating and drinking leisurley, enjoying a relaxing meal, and meanwhile your waiter is running to and fro, fetching this and that, scrambling about as beads of sweat drip down his forehead and into your drinks?
So are WE!
That's why you no longer have to feel awkward being waited on, because at Krazy A's Bistro our waiters eat and drink WITH you!
That's right, we eat and drink while YOU eat and drink. Watch as a member of our experienced waitstaff strolls leisurely up to your table, greets you with a pleasant smile and takes your drink order. Watch as he returns to the table, passes out your drinks, and then takes one for himself! Our waiters will stand by at your table to finish his drink. This is our way of saying, "Hey, we're having a good time, too!"
When the meal comes, no more having to hide your pasta alfredo from your waiter's greedy eyes. He'll be munching on his own piece of Krazy Toast! We give our waiters a hefty helping of Krazy Toast each day, so when you are getting your meal, they'll be getting theirs!
And hey, they'll even pick up the check...EVERYTIME!
So come to Krazy A's Bistro, where our waiters eat and drink with you and even pick up the check...EVERYTIME!

Slogans

2007-02-27T06:28:00.000-08:00

Adam and Eve
NOT Adam and Steve!

Odds and Evens
NOT Odds and Stevens!

Watch it with Tivo
NOT Watch it with Steve-o!

Alternate Endings

2007-02-25T01:41:00.000-08:00

A velociraptor awakes with a start, shaking her head swiftly and flaring her nostrils. It is 75 million B.C. in the Cretaceous. Moments ago she had been on the verge of pouncing upon a large primate when she had been snatched up into the jaws of a Tyrannosaurus. A large banner reading "When Dinosaurs Ruled the Earth" had fluttered down as the Tyrannosaur, now pinning her under its foot, had let out a triumphant roar. The velociraptor snorts before rising to rejoin her pack. Tyrannosaurs are extinct. It is not the future. It was all a dream.

The camera pulls away swiftly from the eyes of Euphegenia Doubtfire as she sits up sweating and panting. She is in a darkened bedroom in England. She turns on her bedside lamp and handles a worn newspaper clipping. Her adult child Daniel and her grandchildren Lydia, Chris, and Natalie died in an automobile accident in San Francisco over five years ago. She lies back upon her pillow and begins to weep before the screen goes black and credits roll over the Roy Orbison song "In Dreams". It was all a dream.

We cut back to full color as the Wicked Witch of the West awakes with a cackley shriek. There is no Dorothy. There is no Toto. She is safe. But she is still in an asylum, crazy with grief from being ugly. The camera holds on the witch in her cell as the credits roll over the scene. Roy Orbison singing "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" begins to play. It was all a dream.

Krazy A's Bistro

2007-02-23T23:40:00.000-08:00

KRAZY A's BISTRO

Balsamic Vinegarette Plate:
A hearty bowl Balsamic Vinegarette, served chilled for those hot summer days. Comes with two pieces of buttery garlic bread for dippin'. -$6.95

Bacon Salad:
Two thick slices of Maple Smoked bacon sitting atop a bed of crisp iceburg lettuce. Great to share with friends! -$7.99

Cup of Ice:
Cool down with Krazy A's signature Cup of Ice. Served in a 22 oz "stein" glass, overflowin' with delicous ice. $4.50

Drink Sampler:
Great as an appetizer or a meal. Pick any three ice cold beverages: Diet Coke, Tea, Water, or Apple Juice. Or, get Krazy and try a suicide of all four! Yum! $7.95

Cup of Salad:
The name says it all. Our signature garden salad crammed tight into a fun Krazy A's "twisty" cup. Like the cup? It's yours! $6.99

Bowl of Flies:
You've heard the joke, now try the meal. Inspired by a vacation to Africa, this scrumptious delight is a bowl chock full of tasty flies. Don't worry, they're dead. $14.95