End Of The Line

“Johnson, I’m afraid we have to let you go.”

“Let me go? What? Where?”

“Out there into the land of opportunity.”

“Oh, so in other words, I’m going—”

“Into the parking lot. You’re fired.”

“What?”

“Canned, you nitwit. Terminated. Chopped. TOSSED OUT ON YOUR OBSOLETE ASS!”

“Huh, all right… But I’ve been here for twenty years!”

“Yes, and we appreciate your service. I never said it was an easy decision, even though it was a piece of cake—you’ve outlived your usefulness and the company needs to cut costs and that’s life.”

“Well, I don’t know what to say—”

“You can say ‘goodbye.’”

“Uh, okay. Goodbye.”

“Goodbye to you, too, Johnson. And good luck.”

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.”

ALIEN SEX

The captain’s yeoman, Bunny, came running into the control room of the starship Grope.

“Captain, there’s an alien in your bed!” she said.

The captain paused and put down his bottle of whiskey. “Really? Is it male or female?”

Bunny hesitated. “I think it’s female—it’s wearing high heels.”

“Ha.” The captain scratched the cleft in his chin. “Our last security chief wore five-inch pumps, and he was a guy. And I still wonder about all those panties that disappeared from the washroom.”

“The alien is watching Oprah,” Bunny said. “And reading a Nora Roberts novel.”

“Oooooh, okay.” The captain leaned back in his leather armchair and grinned. “So it’s a female.” Then he leered a bit. “Is she attractive?”

Bunny looked away. “Maybe,” she said. “In a magenta-colored, tentacle-flailing kind of way.” Then she blurted, “Did you find my ruby earrings in your room? I can’t seem to find them, and I had them on that night we—”

The captain laughed. “I mean, will she eat me after we do it? Because some of these creatures are into that kind of thing. They kill the guy after they do it—for no reason at all.”

Bunny sighed. “She’s very sexy, and she’s not going to eat you. In fact, she’s writhing around with her legs open, waiting for you to jump on top of her, okay? Are you happy now?”

“Yes!” He jumped from his chair. “Where is my pangalactic birth control kanoodle?”

Bunny scowled. “It’s right here, sir.” And she pulled out a pistol.

POOM!

And shot the captain in the chest.

“UGH!”

The captain grabbed his heart, and then he collapsed in a heap on the floor.

Bunny frowned and tossed the gun onto his dead body. Then she shook her head and considered her evening plans. After all, it was the weekend—and once again she didn’t have a date. But did she even care? She was tired of caring.

She smiled and picked up the captain’s bottle of whiskey. Maybe she’d go see if the alien girl felt like having a few drinks.

Spaceship Romance

The spaceship was smooth like a cigar. Are cigars smooth? Maybe not. Maybe the spaceship was smooth like a piece of porcelain. But it was smoking like a cigar. It was smoking like a cigar and about to crash. How will our hero escape? Through the door. Wait, wait—that’s too mundane and totally lacking in drama. Maybe he will escape through the garbage chute, and he’ll end up with a mouthful of trash. So our hero is crawling through a smoky garbage chute, trying to escape from his burning craft, and his mouth is filled with greasy chicken bones and a rotten banana peel and he’s slipping and sliding in spilled, rancid beer and he’s not going to make it. And he’s trying to spit the refuse from his mouth but his eyes are filling with smoke and his nostrils are filling with stench and he’s gagging and choking and he says, “MMMMMMMF! MMMMMMMF! UGH!” and then he pukes and now he’s flailing around in stink and drool and puke and everything is starting to go black. But then one of his flailing arms hits the JETTISON TRASH button and he’s shot from the chute—KABOOM!—and he’s whistling through the unpolluted air of a distant world while the ship streaks toward its impact with a local mountain range and just as it explodes—KAPOW!—our hero splashes down into a crystal lake of cleanliness where he’s rescued by a beautiful yet lascivious mermaid who tends to his wounds. They have wild sex on an overgrown lily pad and live happily ever after. The end.

FLOOD

Some people just don’t take advantage of their opportunities. I’m not religious, but I believe the joke below transcends the concept of organized religion.

Flood Joke
A big flood is coming, and orders have been given to evacuate the town. Water is rushing like a river in the streets—but there’s one old guy who says he’s not going anywhere. In fact, he’s standing on his porch watching a rowboat full of people float past.

The people in the boat yell, “GET IN! GET IN!”

“No,” he says. “The Lord will protect me.” And so the boat goes on without him.

A few hours later the water has reached the second floor window of the guy’s home. Another boat comes by, and the people in it yell to him, “GET IN! GET IN!”

The old guy looks out the window and says, “No. The Lord will protect me.” And so the boat moves on.

An hour later the water has reached the top of the house. A helicopter flies by and sees the old guy standing on the roof. Someone throws down a ladder.

“GRAB THE LADDER! GRAB THE LADDER OR YOU’LL DROWN!”

“NO,” he says. “THE LORD WILL PROTECT ME.” So the helicopter flies away.

Ten minutes later the water washes over the roof and the old guy drowns. So now the old guy is dead, and he arrives in Heaven dripping wet. And he’s pretty upset. He stomps up to Saint Peter and says, “I demand to see the Lord!”

Saint Peter smiles and takes him down the hall to see God. The old guy storms into the Lord’s office, and he is screaming.

“‘I believed in you, Lord! I had faith in you! I was loyal to you my whole life and you let me drown! Why?”

The Lord looks at him and says, “Hey, what do you want from me? I sent you two boats and a fucking helicopter.”

A Discussion About Writing

I was reading about the way “a single word can completely change the feel of an entire manuscript.” I was thinking about how this idea is an
exaggeration—until I considered a few examples.

Let’s look at this sentence: The white cow has speckled spots.

Let’s change one word: The white cow has speckled feces.

So now we have a cow who better himself get a colonoscopy.

The white cow has speckled friends.

Now the cow is in danger of contracting the plague.

The white cow is a dumb piece of shit.

Hey, Joe, you changed more than one word! This is true—but I have a bad feeling about that cow, so who cares?

The white cow has been turned into a steak.

You’re history, cow. Pass the ketchup.

METEOR

I was soaring above the world, and I knew it wouldn’t last. The wind was a storm that tasted cold and alive. The tentacle-flames burned a smile in the air. So long.

Something Original

“I’m looking for something different.”

“That’s cool. You mean something really unique?”

“Exactly. But of course it still needs to fit into an obvious category.”

“Ah. So you want it to be original—but not too original.”

“Yes! Fresh and original but just like something I know.”

“Ok, but a different flavor—”

“Yes. But it has to be a different flavor that’s already popular.”

“All right, so you want something different, unique, and original that is EXACTLY like what everyone else is currently doing.”

“YES! I’m glad you finally understand.”

Last Train To Stinkville

I keep deleting old blog posts. I’ve been told this is a bad thing to do but of course I’ve also been told not to mix beer and tequila and we all know how much fun that can be.

I spent the last four days in Manhattan. People say New York is expensive but I ate lunch for four days and spent a grand total of nine bucks. The secret is pizza—you can survive in New York for very little money if you eat pizza every day. Of course, you’ll also need to live inside a cardboard box to avoid spending a fortune renting an apartment the size of a freight elevator.

The exhaust fumes are horrendous. They don’t just creep into your nose—they forcibly enter your throat, reach into your lungs, and strangle each little alveoli one at a time. And they laugh about it.

People say New Jersey is ugly. But it’s only the part of New Jersey that’s close to New York. I’m glad to be back.

Happy And Ad Free

This web site is now “ad free.” I’ve removed all banners and income generating referral links. Am I making a statement against capitalism? Uh, no. I just decided the ads weren’t making enough money to justify their ugliness. If they’d been making some real cash I probably would’ve lit up every page like a Las Vegas billboard.

I also deleted a bunch of blog posts (about 50% of them). I’ve decided life is larger than the things we tend to argue about. In the final arena, all the shouting between humans will be a blip in the bowl of a very large universe, and I don’t feel like wasting my energy on anger. Because it’s impossible to teach an idiot anything.

Hey, that sounded kind of angry.