I GET JOKES: #RIP

artwork by Chris "SILLYPANTS" Castro

It's a cold winter night. After one too many games of beer pong, Alex flys down the open highway road. He's gotta piss you know? While switching through his favorite Pandora stations, he loses control of his vehicle and veers off the road. The gash on his head from slamming into the steering while isn't as bad as it looks. No serious damage to himself or his liability only insured car. Too bad he's too wasted to realize that.

Car door swings open. Alex falls out and stumbles to the ground.

Cold. It's freezing. I-I'm bleeding?

Oh God, I was in an accident! Drunk driver?
Wait, that was me. My bad. They don't call me the beer pong champ for nothing!

At least I had my seat belt...oh. Shit. I-I can't move my legs dawg. I'm getting colder. This fucking sucks. I don't think I'm gonna make it. Even if I did, Sarah's gonna be pissed. I told her I was working tonight. What should I do? I'm getting all woozy and shit. Sam. Sam!

After some struggle, he unlocks his phone and makes a call.

Sam answer your fucking phone dude. C'mon. Gotta text his ass now. Foo needs an iPhone already, this shit would be free. Cheap ass...

text:

Sam dude I fuked up. hit tree after left ur pad. dyin man =/ Do me a solid bro log onto my emails & profiles let evryone know I'm dunskees. Dont let Sarah see my inbox! keep those nudes from Jenn tho. Cute AF huh? Thanks man. Later.

text:

yo I forgoet the password! LOL. email is spartan06. ha. FB and Twitter are: gimmiefuel6969. haha. Metallica bro wut?! Cool man. lates.

Oh...my old myspace tho! Nah, that shits dead anyways.

So this it? End of the line. Man, my last pic on Instagram is that Subway from yesterday. I can't go out like that!

Opens camera app.

One last selfie. Dammit.

Turns on flash and takes another photo. Hashtags the following:

#dontdrinkanddrive #peaceout #RIP

This better get more "likes" than Sarah's cloud pictures. This is my LAST pic you know?

His phone buzzes.

What? Liked my status? I didn't post...

He glances at his mysterious new Facebook update that reads:

Alexander Owens is a lying piece of shit. Was supposed to at work but drunk text me instead. Fuck him an that slut still sending him nudes behind my back. YOU KNO WHO YOU R BITCH! Get some respect n get ur own man. wait nvm you can have him. Get HER to help fix your car. Were done. smh.

I text Sarah?!Shiiiiiiiiiiit. She's gonna kill me. Well, if I wasn't already dying here. Fuck. I'm so cold and I'm all wet now. At least I don't have to piss anymore. Wait...

#FML.

Rundown on The Shutdown

It’s a cold fall morning. Your alarm rings to no avail. You should have been up five minutes ago. You need coffee. You gotta get ready for work. Shit, you need gas. Oh well. Fuck it. This bed is too warm. You’re just too, damn, comfy.

Uh oh. Getting a lil too warm. Search your feelings, you know it be true…you gotta piss.

NOOOOOOOOOOO!

Just a little longer. You have enough gas to make it. You’ll be fine.
Fuck--- light is creeping in from that busted window blind.

NO. You’re staying. You haven’t been this snug in ages. You can hold it. Just curl into a ball and forget about the yellow river of urine about to crest. 

(Stomach gurgles) 
Uh oh. That ain’t hunger. Your bowels are saying “sup bro?” You gotta take a shit.

(Loud gurgles)
A mad shit.

NO. Who cares? You’re calling in sick. Intestines be damned you can’t risk it. You’re just so fucking comfy right now it’s ridiculous.

(Insane squishy gurgle)
Well, that about settles it. Time to get up and…

NO! We’re calling in remember? We can’t afford to get up right now, we might never be this comfy again!

Look, I want to stay in bed as much as you do but, we gotta hit that toilet man. ASAP.

STAY! Call in. Do some laundry later, clean up…

OK. That’s it. We are not SHITTING THE BED. We're late for work. I'm not trying to get fired for lounging in bed, and dude...we got some napalm diarrhea over here. We’re getting out of bed: NOW.

(sobbing)
B-But, we’re so comfy right now. Oh God. Well, we fought the good fight. We just didn’t win. Our days of being comfy are over.

Toilet seat lifts: explosion.

That’s basically how the 113th United States Congress handled the government shutdown earlier this month. The battle to defeat The Affordable Care Act/ObamaCARE ended long ago. It may be a flawed piece of legislation and already looks like its being implemented poorly, but it passed both houses of Congress, was reaffirmed with the last Presidential election…and was upheld by The Supreme Court. It’s over dude. It’s not going anywhere.

Unfortunately, some members of Congress (mainly House Republicans and deranged Senators like Ted Cruz) couldn’t be bothered to swallow the bitter pill of democracy/reality and realize that you can’t always get what you want and tried tying their continued fight against ObamaCare with the Federal Budget and Debt Ceiling negotiations in one last gasp of desperation/insanity. So they threw an ideological tantrum and held the government hostage for close to three weeks. Now funding the government is one of the most basic functions Congress performs. Humans need water and food to survive, the government needs Congress to appropriate funds to do stuff. It’s that simple. Republican members of the House were content with staying in their comfy beds of conservative ideology and ignore their basic duties to fund the government and ya know, not shit all over the place.

So what happened? Well, in the end, just one day prior to certain economic catastrophe, Congress was able to limp out of bed and reopen the government. Congratulations Congress, you’ve proved to be slightly more responsible than infants in not soiling yourselves. Kudos. Don’t get cocky though, I know potty training is a big deal, but you’ve still got a long road ahead.

FAIL

Dental Plan: Simpsons Themed Short Fiction

INT. EMPTY WAREHOUSE - NIGHT

A MAN is tied to a chair inside a dark warehouse. A large GOON paces beside him.
                        
                         GOON
So you lied to us…in song? Fuck. I hate when people do that.

                         MAN
Aw, you've got it all wrong. It's not like that. Look, I got the idea when I realized the fridge was cold, and…

                         GOON
Liar! You were out gallivanting around with that floozy of a bigger brother? He put you up to this? Didn’t he, didn’t he? Look at me!

Goon grabs the Man's throat.

                         MAN
No! I just, I…I was losing my perspicacity alright?! I wanted more friends, more allies…

Goon lets go as the Man slumps over.

                         GOON
You wanted to be queen of summertime…

                         MAN (WHIMPERS)
-king.

                         GOON
So you and your attractive cousin decided to set up shop on our turf? What did you call yourselves again?

                         MAN
Team—Team Discovery Channel.

                         GOON
Wow. Some geniuses huh? You thought you could waltz in here like it’s Happyland? All the other dealers would be too busy in their gum drop houses on lollipop lane to realize what the hell you were doing?

                         MAN
-b-but…

                         GOON
That nobody would notice this little operation, in this time of the year, at this time of day, in this part of the country, localized entirely within your front yard?

                         MAN
-but, it was Country Time Lemonade. There’s never been anything close to real lemons in it.

                         GOON
Pish Posh! You thought it would be like taking candy, from a baby didn’t you…Mendoza? That’s not even your real name is it?

                         MAN
No. It’s Miguel- Miguel Sanchez.

                         GOON
Well, it was nice knowing you Miguel. Mr. Black says it’s time to fertilize the lawn…if you catch my drift.

The Man suddenly jerks upright. He sits tall and defiant.

                         MAN
You hired goons may have gotten the drop on me…but you’ll never stop Dr. Colossus! If you think he’ll slip up like I did, then you don’t know Diablo Canyon Two from Diablo Canyon One…

                         GOON
Colossus? HA.

Goon lights up a cigarette.

                         GOON (CONT'D)
Leave that hack and his oversized decorative pancho to us. Just because he used to be a major player down at the sewing store doesn’t mean shit. Mr. Black, now he…he’s a superstar at the cracker factory. He truly is, the king of all kings. When we catch that little S.O.B., Mr. Black is gonna look him in the eyes and say: “So this is your sick mother?”

Goon hovers over the Man's chair.

                         Goon (CONT'D)
Yeah…put that in your fife and smoke it.  

Goon extinguishes his cigarette on the Man's face.

        Screen goes black. Screaming is heard off camera.

                           END.

So that's that. A dramatic scene/short story I wrote interwoven with 25 different references to the gnarliest television program of all time, the first decade run of The Simpsons. 

My goal was to tell a coherent narrative while paying homage to my favorite TV show. Hopefully you normal folk could understand what the hell was going on. To The Simpsons fiends out there: Can you identify all 25 references? Well, can you? Up and atom then.

I GET JOKES: Job Interview- wut do?

artwork by Chris "SILLYPANTS" Castro

Everyday is your day off when you’re unemployed. Enjoy each one like it’s the last. You never know when some dick nosed job recruiter might call/text/email you back and fuck up the perfect little Friday morning you had planned. Here’s what you do:

1) Don’t answer the phone.
You applied for this job how many weeks ago? Yeah, and they call you back NOW? Fuck that. You’re probably too busy having sex with your girl (hand), hiking (napping) or playing ball (PS3…and no you can’t pause multiplayer motherfucker!) to answer anyways. They’ll leave you a voice mail and they’ll like it.

2) Reschedule the interview. The later the better.
Cynthia from HR has no idea who she’s fucking with. 8am tomorrow morning? Try not to laugh in her face. Hold it in. We all know that choosing between an all night Star Trek The Next Generation marathon on Netflix, and waking up early for some stupid fucking job interrogat…er, interview, ain’t no choice at all. Tell her you volunteer as a crossing guard or have to take grams to the doctor in the morning. Anything to keep you in bed until 9 o’clock.   

3) Bum a ride.
Where is this place anyways? Across town? Hell no. Don’t waste gas or pay for parking when they’re probably not even going to hire your ass anyways. Call Tony. Tell fat fuck you’ll treat him to breakfast and smoke him out later if he drops you off. That McDonalds on the corner (‘Merica!) should keep him occupied until you’re done.

4) Don’t shave.
They don’t own you. Not yet. Once you get the job, if they tell you to wear a tutu and grab your ankles you better smile and ask for seconds (gross…but fetish shit pays well). Until then, don’t shave. You already had plans before they abruptly called you remember? How are you supposed to pick up at the bar if you look like that douche from One Direction? It’s not gonna happen my friend. No beard = no bush. Remember that. If they give you shit during the interview, remind them that this job should be about the content of your character, not the length of your facial hair. If they’re not down with Dr. King, then fuck that place and report this hate crime to NCAA, A.S.A.P.

5) Don’t do any research about the job or company before hand.
Why spoil the surprise? You need work, they’re hiring. It said so on Craigslist. Of course you’re going to apply. Besides, you’re trying to get a paycheck, not ghost write the company’s biography. Their recent expansion into foreign markets, charity work with disadvantaged orphans, or how old man Harris founded the company with just a five dollar bill and the sweat off his brow in 1947, doesn’t mean jack shit. How much are we getting paid homie?! Oh, and do sick days and vacation time roll over? That would rule.

So you got the interview pushed back until 10am and Tony’s on his way. You’re rocking a majestic beard and know everything you need to know about this potential “dream job” you’re interviewing for (it’s in a office, across town)...hold up.

You haven’t clinched this thing yet partner. There’s still one more thing we’ve got to cover before you start abusing the company gas card. This one is important so make sure you write it down if necessary.

Do not, I repeat, do not forget to bring extra copies of your resume to the interview!

You’re trying to make a good impression for Christ’s sake.

I GET JOKES: Free Speech

artwork by Tiffany Reza

Did you know it’s illegal to yell “fire” in a public place? Well you can, but only if the joint is burning down. You can’t falsely yell “fire” in, oh, let’s say a crowded theater, or any packed public place that could cause panic and result in people getting hurt. I know, I know, but what about muh FREEOMS?! Freedom of speech is great (thank you Larry Flynt) but limitations like this one seem necessary in my book. 

You know what other phrase should be illegal? “It’s yours.” I’m not talking about slices of pizza either. Falsely identifying someone as your baby daddy should definitely fall under the limitations of free speech. You better have a warrant, forensics and eye witness testimony before you come at a guy with that. Why? Well the threat of a fire/disaster in a public sphere is illegal because it could result in bodily harm or death. False fatherhood accusations on the other hand are equal to certain death. It’s an 18 years to life sentence (depending on how fucked up the kid turns out). Say goodbye to the existence you once knew. It’s diapers, braces, data plans and tuition/bail from here until the little bastard gets a full time job when he’s 34 (thanks Obama).

If you can’t yell fire in a public space, you shouldn’t be allowed to accuse potential baby daddy’s on Twitter either. Think about it. The social media sphere is more crowded than all the theater houses and sports arenas in the world. Do you have any idea how hard it is to shake the hashtag #deadbeatdad. You’ll be an instant pariah. Even something harmless like: “Joey Joe Joe was tagged at The Yard House with 4 others” will result in endless comments like: “He needs to be wit his family at home.” “PREACH” and “ReALTALk.”

I know that big government is the enemy and the last thing we all need are the feds telling us how to live and what to say…but this is serious. The Clear and Present Danger doctrine has been instituted in our legal system for almost a century now, I just think it’s time we updated it for modern times. No false fire or paternity claims in 21^st century America. And remember ladies, the burden of proof rests solely on the prosecution. God, I love this country.

I GET JOKES: Existential Porn Crisis

artwork by Tiffany Reza

Summer 2001:

It took some time to find you, navigating the backwoods of AOL for safe passage. Last Friday at Johnny’s, in his dad’s den at 2am. That’s where I fell in love. Fell in love at the keyboard. “Forget about her,” they said. “Who cares?” I did. Those punks just wanted a quick fix. I was in it for the long haul. There’s plenty of fish in the sea, but they don’t swim like you Angel. By swim…I mean take three dicks at the same time.  

Angel la Cox.  19/f/Cali. Part German, Hispanic, and whatever you desire. They don’t have girls like you in St. Claire Falls that’s for sure. We’re going to Disneyland for Cindy’s next birthday. So close, but so far. They have nude beaches out west huh? I bet all the sand in your crack isn’t as bad as Damien Rod’s, rod. Just kidding. You took it like a champ. It was beautiful.

The Painal Group homepage says that Back Door Auditions vol. III was your first role. Ten years from now you’ll be 29 and ready to retire. I should be out of college by then. This could work. This could really work…

Shit. Foot steps. Can’t you call grandma later? Angel’s new MPEG is almost done downloading. Only 53 more minutes to go! Fine. Your house, your phone, your rules. I’ll log on tonight when they’re asleep. This new clip, 45 seconds of heaven, it’s worth the risk. I’ll be back Angel. I swear.

Winter 2013:
Grad School. What a joke. I should have got a real job. Or joined the Army. Fuck this library. I need a beer. Why the hell is Denise calling me when she’s knows I’m doing research? Fiance or not, she fucking bugs. Taking a break…

Headlines.
“Gridlock in DC: Congress to…,”   “Top cities for Twenty…” “Shocking: Former Porn Star on trial…”
Angel? Angel la Cox?!

2006, assault. 2008, methamphetamine and prostitution charges brought after motel raid. 2011, New Apostle Congregation of the Holy Spirit welcomes an…oh Angel. What happened?
 
You were so young and graceful. Your pelvis galloped on those flesh toned condoms like a thoroughbred. All the fame and accolades? The AVN for best new starlet? Why’d you start blowing guys off Craigslist?! Cops have computers too girl! How could this have happened?

I’ve been so caught up. I swear I didn’t know. I…why the fuck is Denise still calling?! God.

I remember you signed with Dirty Diva Productions. I just finished high school. Oh shit, it says you did interracial? Wow. Ok, bookmarked. Has it really been ten, no wait, twelve years ago. In Derrick’s garage looking at your jpegs online.

What happened to you…what happened to us?

Car payments, Denise, Stanford, Econ fucking happened. Oh Christ what’s the point. You’re cooking rock in some trailer; I’m scouring periodicals from online databases. We’re slaves. We fucked up somewhere and now we’re lost and miserable. You’re turning tricks for cash and Denise won’t stop fucking texting me either! OFF. PHONE OFF.

I’m sorry Angel. I wasn’t there. I’m so sorry. For the both of us. I need to make things right. The only way I can.

New tab. Red Tube search: Angel la Cox.
Fuck this library.