Everything that appears in Masterpieces of American Literature is a true existing written work that I have quoted as accurately as possible by the word.
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Incident Report*
(names changed)
*Document meant to keep precise record of volatile happenings.
Trainee Name: Vivica
Building:blank. Dept: 4-17-09. Room: blank. Trainee Signature: Vivica (tilted to the right to denote a signature). Location of incident: blank. Date: 4-17-09. Time: blank.
Description of incident in full detail:
(note - Front page of this handwritten report is absolutely riddled, spangled, with loose quotation marks, 5 or 6 to some lines, too many directly above words to indicate here. Apparently this student must have placed a couple incorrectly and just decided to decorate the report with them, which would be a sound defense if someone accused her of not knowing how to properly utilize those curly things.)
Britny Torress statted ('sayn' crossed out) saying "yeah Fuck"ing leva, why don 't you wear your blue belt" I said "('Aight' crossed out) Alright then I'm going to wear my blue belt right now!" Britny Torress and Natalie Torress started talking a lot of ('bullshit' crossed out) cuzz words. Since I have problems to deal with I couldn't handle it anymore and I started saying "Well that's all you guys do talk ('shit' crossed out) StuFF and won't do nothing." Natalie Torress looked at me and was walking behind Britny and they both said "We already did something!" and I said well you guys are liying and Natalie Torress wanted to come near me and hit me I was going to hit her but Cristina de Santiago was pulling me back then the security came Claduia and Cristina wanted to calm me down the secuirty was talking to me and Cristina and Natalie told Madina that we were snitching and Madina said "Really, now Vivica your going to snitch." I got more angry and started telling her "First of all ain't no one snitching on people. Then aimy started talking a whole bunch of stuff. They were FLAMED UP in Red to.
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The speaker it don't work. You gonna have to drive up to the window and then you gonna to have to wait 10-15 minutes for a food.
- Posted on a Jack in the Box Drive-Thru Menu
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
ShamWow Guy and Filthy Hooker (Chapter One)
ShamWow Guy 
,
seen here wishing in one hand and wiping kitchen counters with the other, hits a Miami Beach nightclub to enjoy the fruits of his celebrity one Saturday night.
ShamWow Guy meets Filthy Hooker, brings her back to hotel room, and with that ShamWow Guy charm, spins up a quick contract binding Filthy Hooker only to "straight sex". Provided of course that ShamWow Guy takes care of the convenience charge of one thousand dollars - but only if you call in the next ten minutes, because Filthy Hooker can't offer this price all day.
Having taken care of the formalities like a vet, ShamWow Guy went in for a romantic kiss with his lady.
Filthy Hooker bites his tongue, will not let go.
ShamWow Guy beats the S. Out of Filthy Hooker.
,seen here wishing in one hand and wiping kitchen counters with the other, hits a Miami Beach nightclub to enjoy the fruits of his celebrity one Saturday night.
ShamWow Guy meets Filthy Hooker, brings her back to hotel room, and with that ShamWow Guy charm, spins up a quick contract binding Filthy Hooker only to "straight sex". Provided of course that ShamWow Guy takes care of the convenience charge of one thousand dollars - but only if you call in the next ten minutes, because Filthy Hooker can't offer this price all day.
Having taken care of the formalities like a vet, ShamWow Guy went in for a romantic kiss with his lady.
Filthy Hooker bites his tongue, will not let go.
ShamWow Guy beats the S. Out of Filthy Hooker.
Monday, March 2, 2009
Blu-Ray
Why in the world would someone want to buy a cartoon on Blu-Ray?
DVD is fine. Cartoons are drawn. We don't need hi-def. There are no textures to hi-define. Some of you seem intent on testing your plumbing with cash.
DVD is fine. Cartoons are drawn. We don't need hi-def. There are no textures to hi-define. Some of you seem intent on testing your plumbing with cash.
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Kill Yourself Vol. 1
To all of you who write advertisement that begins with a large red "WARNING! The following may cause.."
..and then, in an unprecedented display of cutting-edge wit and innovation, swing that into something FUN!! rather than a real WARNING!! (GET IT?!?!) e.g....
"..gut-busting laughter!"
or
"..uncontrollable booty-shaking!"
We've had a meeting while you were in the other room, and... we'd like it if you'd kill yourself.
Love,
Skip
..and then, in an unprecedented display of cutting-edge wit and innovation, swing that into something FUN!! rather than a real WARNING!! (GET IT?!?!) e.g....
"..gut-busting laughter!"
or
"..uncontrollable booty-shaking!"
We've had a meeting while you were in the other room, and... we'd like it if you'd kill yourself.
Love,
Skip
Friday, January 23, 2009
Attn: The Desk of Toaster Strudel's Marketing Manager
It is my opinion, sir, that if you cannot generate any new material, you should be removed from your executive position at this time.
You've been pointing out your product's superiority to the Pop-Tart since TV became available in color.
Every single Toaster Strudel commercial I've seen in my life features:
- an exchange between two would-be friends, one whose affinity for Pop-Tarts has caused an irreparable rift.
- a side-by-side contrast of a bursting Toaster Strudel pastry with the middle cleavage and jelly zig-zag towering over an impotent post-it-sized Pop-Tart.
- an announcer, male or female, will copiously emasculate Pop-Tarts, slandering the standardized tart: thinness, dryness, and overall illegitimacy as a breakfast pastry.
- Poppinfresh will usually make an appearance at the close of all commercials, just to throw the turf up and show muthafuckas what time it is.
It's astonishing to me that your entire advertising strategy hinges, has hinged, and it seems will always hinge on pilfering the purist sector, those most selective, from the Pop-Tarts audience. Your platform appeals to those fans who want to pull their first daily meal out of a tinfoil pouch and add nothing, but who are upset by the lack of quality therein.
Oh, Toaster Strudel Marketing Manager...
Will this truly be your niche until your dying day?
What has driven you into this two-decade slide of jealous pastry politics?
Does your older brother Pop-Tarts overshadow your accomplishments at every Christmas dinner?
How tiring.
Careful you don't lose Poppinfresh's contract. He's all you've got.
Skip
You've been pointing out your product's superiority to the Pop-Tart since TV became available in color.
Every single Toaster Strudel commercial I've seen in my life features:
- an exchange between two would-be friends, one whose affinity for Pop-Tarts has caused an irreparable rift.
- a side-by-side contrast of a bursting Toaster Strudel pastry with the middle cleavage and jelly zig-zag towering over an impotent post-it-sized Pop-Tart.
- an announcer, male or female, will copiously emasculate Pop-Tarts, slandering the standardized tart: thinness, dryness, and overall illegitimacy as a breakfast pastry.
- Poppinfresh will usually make an appearance at the close of all commercials, just to throw the turf up and show muthafuckas what time it is.
It's astonishing to me that your entire advertising strategy hinges, has hinged, and it seems will always hinge on pilfering the purist sector, those most selective, from the Pop-Tarts audience. Your platform appeals to those fans who want to pull their first daily meal out of a tinfoil pouch and add nothing, but who are upset by the lack of quality therein.
Oh, Toaster Strudel Marketing Manager...
Will this truly be your niche until your dying day?
What has driven you into this two-decade slide of jealous pastry politics?
Does your older brother Pop-Tarts overshadow your accomplishments at every Christmas dinner?
How tiring.
Careful you don't lose Poppinfresh's contract. He's all you've got.
Skip
Sunday, January 11, 2009
Dreads
I used to have dreads. They were crazy dope.
See?
I don't have dreadlocks now because Earth, in an astonishingly cohesive exhibition of groupthink, doesn't appreciate people of European lineage having dreadlocks.
When I put my hair in dreads, peeps would think they knew quite a bit about me, had me "cased out" if you will. The byproducts of having this hairstyle were entirely adverse... Police cursed at me uncivilly. New acquaintances would neglect to learn my name and refer to me as "dreadlocks" or "rudeboy" or "Rage" or whatever you like. Supervisors under whom my performance had remained consistent suddenly adopted a demeanor somewhere between awkward distance and flat-out disdain. Interviews for new jobs were knowingly a joke. Women who had flirted with me before now ice-grilled me in indication of how personally my hair must have offended them. And people would leapfrog over the "do you smoke" question and go straight to "where do you buy" or "are you holding".
...Incidentally, having dreadlocks means that a person rolled his/her hair up into locks. The prereqs for achieving this look, for a person with my type of hair, include:
- wax
- a few hours' worth of patience.
Substance abuse, lack of intelligence and hygiene, affinity for a certain type of music - although fantastic calls to make on an utter stranger, technically not legitimate dreadlock prereqs.
Eventually, I was forced to revert. It was just not worth it. I was tired of having to prove my worth with two strikes against me. A couple of people actually told me,
"You're too smart for dreadlocks."
The intriguing thing to me...
When an individual is making a personal judgment on me based wholly on the way my hair is done that day, somehow he/she can be endowed with the staggering nerve to call me a tool.
Ruefully faux-hawked
Skip
See?
I don't have dreadlocks now because Earth, in an astonishingly cohesive exhibition of groupthink, doesn't appreciate people of European lineage having dreadlocks.
When I put my hair in dreads, peeps would think they knew quite a bit about me, had me "cased out" if you will. The byproducts of having this hairstyle were entirely adverse... Police cursed at me uncivilly. New acquaintances would neglect to learn my name and refer to me as "dreadlocks" or "rudeboy" or "Rage" or whatever you like. Supervisors under whom my performance had remained consistent suddenly adopted a demeanor somewhere between awkward distance and flat-out disdain. Interviews for new jobs were knowingly a joke. Women who had flirted with me before now ice-grilled me in indication of how personally my hair must have offended them. And people would leapfrog over the "do you smoke" question and go straight to "where do you buy" or "are you holding".
...Incidentally, having dreadlocks means that a person rolled his/her hair up into locks. The prereqs for achieving this look, for a person with my type of hair, include:
- wax
- a few hours' worth of patience.
Substance abuse, lack of intelligence and hygiene, affinity for a certain type of music - although fantastic calls to make on an utter stranger, technically not legitimate dreadlock prereqs.
Eventually, I was forced to revert. It was just not worth it. I was tired of having to prove my worth with two strikes against me. A couple of people actually told me,
"You're too smart for dreadlocks."
The intriguing thing to me...
When an individual is making a personal judgment on me based wholly on the way my hair is done that day, somehow he/she can be endowed with the staggering nerve to call me a tool.
Ruefully faux-hawked
Skip
Monday, December 29, 2008
Enough with the fucking scarves.
Guys, come on.
Did I wake up in a late chapter of the evil saga of Doctor Jaycrewzenstein.
Leave that shit alone.
Walk with me for a minute. Ten years ago, I was in middle school. If it was over ~15 degrees Fahrenheit and you wore a scarf at any middle school in America in '98, you'd quickly be nicknamed scarf-queer, or something analogous, then before morning break it would get gaffled and put in the middle urinal where Brendan the math club prezzy peed or in that week's fresh playground dog dook. And the more advanced of pranksters would trick you into putting it back on.
Notice: Kanye rose to recognition because of his ear for production, not for dressing like a toy.
It's whatever. Do you. But think it over; maybe you should leave it for girls and gay guys. They had it first.
Skip
Did I wake up in a late chapter of the evil saga of Doctor Jaycrewzenstein.
Leave that shit alone.
Walk with me for a minute. Ten years ago, I was in middle school. If it was over ~15 degrees Fahrenheit and you wore a scarf at any middle school in America in '98, you'd quickly be nicknamed scarf-queer, or something analogous, then before morning break it would get gaffled and put in the middle urinal where Brendan the math club prezzy peed or in that week's fresh playground dog dook. And the more advanced of pranksters would trick you into putting it back on.
Notice: Kanye rose to recognition because of his ear for production, not for dressing like a toy.
It's whatever. Do you. But think it over; maybe you should leave it for girls and gay guys. They had it first.
Skip
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