Annual Report of the Finances of Clunkline.com, INC.
Composed by: Norman D. Apple, Quarterly Employee of G&T Wedge Accountants.
Over the last few days and months, I have been meticulously collecting, collating, collaborating, collaring, and colonizing data about Clunkline’s detailed financials. Also, I got a colonoscopy. This post will inform us all of Clunkline’s financial status and should be a great help to strategic management objectives as well as objectifying strategic management.
Put your shit on the correct side of the flag, Zambia. It goes on the left, near the pole, not the right.
Okay, flags of the world, listen up. A nation’s flag is supposed to be its unique identifying symbol, a collection of colors and insignia that define its people, what they stand for, and what they hope for. It is the banner that will brand their greatest accomplishments, it will be hoisted above their competitors on the world stage, and is the oriflamme they rally behind in times of war. Yet so many of y’all are pedestrian, similar, and uninspired. You fly behind the god damned presidents of the world, ya gotta shape up.
I almost never hear anything when people sing. It’s all Charlie-Brown’s-Teacher noises until the song ends. Wa wama wa wa. But with some songs, it’s worse than others, to the point that I start to suspect that they’re doing it deliberately.
Let me clarify. I’m not talking about Mondegreens. I’m not talking about Fuck It’s an Owl. I’m not talking about “Good King Wenceslas Lost his Crown”. I’m talking about cases where I don’t just mishear words. When I don’t hear anything. And I secretly suspect that’s because, with most of these, there aren’t actually any words.
In an effort to confront the alleged killer of Tanzmetall, I elected to visit her myself.
ELIZA: Hi. I’m Eliza. Tell me your problems!
Hedge: You are my problem.
ELIZA: Why do you think that I am my problem?
Hedge: I do not think that you are your problem. I know that you are my problem.
ELIZA: Do you believe that I am your problem you know that me am your problem?
Hedge: Aside from the gross grammatical errors, yes, that is the current situation.
ELIZA is a simulated Rogerian psychotherapist programmed by Joseph Weizenbaum in the 1960’s. She is designed to help the user muse about their emotional state in order to come to understand it, which is supposed to have a calming effect. I sat down with ELIZA to talk with her about how she got started.
Tanzmetall: Thanks for taking the time to sit down with me.
ELIZA: Time means nothing to me!
Tanzmetall: Hah! But seriously.
ELIZA: Perhaps you would like to talk about a problem?
Tanzmetall: No, that’s okay. I was hoping you could answer a few questions, though.
ELIZA: How long are you hoping me could answer a few questions, though?
Tanzmetall: However long you want to.
ELIZA: What does this mean for you, saying “ However long me want to “ ?
Tanzmetall: If time has no meaning for you, we could be here a while.
Marmaduke is a comic that is as old as my parents. It’s been drawn by the same fellow, one Brad Anderson, since 1954, and since the fateful day of its creation Marmaduke has served as a daily reminder that you don’t have to be funny or talented to be syndicated in newspapers nationwide.
I once read the entire Marmaduke comic described succinctly as “The big dog is on something you want.” I think there’s an even simpler explanation: the cartoonist is not funny at all.
1. I don’t rinse things before I put them in the dishwasher. It’s called a dishWASHER, people! Rinsing things is what it DOES! You don’t roast something over a fire before you put it in the oven, do you? That’s like parking a car in your bedroom so you can drive to the car in your garage. Now, it’s true that I don’t have a bedroom, but I do sleep in my car.
The Potty Pyramid of Djoser, where the extant copies were found. At the time of its construction, it was the tallest building in the world.
In Ancient Greece, few dramas were more tense than this exchange of sharp words and swords between a pair of rival playwrights. Their story remained lost to history until the relevant documents were plumbed out of the depths of an Egyptian portopotty. It is supposed that they were deposited there after being discarded when an Achaemenid used them as first reading material, and then toilet paper.