Towards the end of 2009, up until the very, very end of 2009, I found myself working more-or-less frantically to finish a choral piece which I had told my great uncle I would finish by the end of the year. During some of the -or-less frantic parts, I managed to come up with some of these gems.
This here is a compilation of wrongness involving much irony, too-much-of-a-good-thing scenarios, turns of phrase, and things like that. To start: Water is fundamental factor of life… It’s also a fundamental factor of drownings.
This isn’t even the right flag! That’s Liberia’s flag! As if decades of slavery were not enough, now we deface someone else’s flag just because we’re too fucking LAZY to ink the RIGHT NUMBER OF STARS!
Worse still, it’s a THROW PILLOW. It’s not even a real pillow!
It’s like a big-game hunter tracking down the last Tasmanian tiger and then calling it a dingo when he mounts it to his wall.
Patriotic holidays are just commercialist circlejerks. We don’t honor the fallen. We have sales on mattresses. It’s bad enough that Christmas, Valentine’s Day, and Labor Day have been bastardized, but why you gotta exploit the blood of our ancestors to make a $.59 profit on a refrigerator magnet?
His wiki says he’s “quiet”. Wonder why they wrote him that way….
Mayweather Syndrome is a debilitating condition that results in audience apathy. Onset of symptoms occurs whenever Travis Mayweather opens his mouth. Shortly thereafter, the cancer of his atrocious acting metastasizes to the other cast members, eventually killing the appeal of the show.
Double Fine Productions’ new metal-themed video game “Brutal Legend” is scheduled for release in less than two weeks. Anticipation for the game has been building up for months, and some fans couldn’t be more excited.
So one might criticize my reaction to that initial night of sexile, since the blue scrunchie maneuver was something I might have given Peter reason to think was okay. (I hope to god Peter didn’t show that Chinese girl his “blue scrunchie maneuver” if you know what I mean, because what I mean is some kind of sex act).
Today started off pretty well. I arrived before the break room was out of fresh coffee, and the manager even recognized my good work at the staff meeting. Then at some point after lunch we had the gremlin infestation. It’s hard to tell exactly when it started, or how they got in the building, but I have a funny feeling it has something to do with that mysterious old Chinese guy who set up shop right next to our offices.
Gentlemen, I have finally completed my plan for the ultimate heist. Yes, that’s right, we’re going to steal all of the furniture from the White House. Yes… all of it. We’re going to be rich beyond our wildest dreams. Who wouldn’t want to buy President Taft’s extra large bath tub? Or the whiskey cabinet where Ulysses S. Grant poured himself a cold one? Or the mirror Nixon practiced all his lies in front of? Or the love seat where Thomas Jefferson fucked his slaves? Of course as the one who planned this caper I will have to claim the greatest prize: the bed where Grover Cleveland slept. I know we all wanted that one but I think it is only fair that I should be allowed to sleep in the same bed as my idol.
The height of Yooper fashion, and the first result in Google.
The Upper Peninsula of Michigan is the Scandinavia of America: cold, out-of-the-way, and pointless. It’s like the Finnish translation of Appalachia. Somewhere along the line, someone in the U.P. thought it would be a good idea to refer to themselves as a “Yooper” (U.P.-er), and ever since, anyone with any sense has avoided it.