Have you ever noticed that every letter in the alphabet has its own name except for “W”? It’s name is basically a description of what it looks like using the characteristics of another letter. “Double U.” Two “U’s” side by side would look like a “W” (depending on the font). I think this is a great idea, because in a world of too much information, it’s one less letter that we have to waste our efforts memorizing. And thus I’ve taken the liberty of doing that with a few more letters so we can unclutter the alphabet just a little bit more.
B – “P” trying to have a 69 with a clone of itself but doing it all wrong.
F – “E” was just in a really bad car accident, but be cool about it, okay?
I – Guys, someone should really talk to “H” about his coke problem. I’d do it, but I don’t know him that well so it’d probably be weird.
Q – “O” doing a really bad impersonation of the Prince logo.
R – What the hell is “P” wearing?!
S – Gay 5.
U – Half-W
Y – Slutty lowercase L
Z – Ohmygod! Somebody shot “N”!!!
For a fun activity, try singing the alphabet with all of these descriptions replacing the letters.
Over the last month or so I’ve noticed my life slowly sliding downhill. I lost a big account at my firm which caused me to lose the promotion I was hoping for. My wife is mad at me because I still haven’t brought the car in for a tune up because it keeps making this weird sound, like a donkey being threatened. I told my doctor today that I feel like my migraines are getting worse. The news he gave me was deafening. Turns out everything I touch turns to farts. That’s the prognosis. I had to pay a $20 co-pay for him to tell me that. Don’t you think I know that already? My whole life! My whole life everything I’ve touched has just gone up in farts! I wanted to be in a rock band, that was my dream. When I was 17 I saved up all summer so I could buy an electric guitar. When I finally got that guitar in my hot little hands I realized every song I tried to play just turned to farts. My dad, trying to be encouraging, told me the farting was coming along really well. ”It’s not suppose to sound like farts dad, it’s suppose to sound like Smoke On The Water!” I yelled. ”Sounds like farts to me” my dad shrugged. As angry as it made me, he was right.
I could try to go out and make something of this strange curse. Maybe I could be some kind of magician. In my act I’d take something promising, like a degree in architecture and then I’d just magically watch it all just turn to farts over the years. When life gives me lemons, I just make farts.
Every time I try to meet someone new. Every time I try to build an addition to the house. Every time I try to relate to my own children. Every time I try to burp. It all just turns to farts.
iPhones are everywhere these days. It seems that everybody and their iPhone has an iPhone now. But if you’re like me, then you don’t want/can’t afford/haven’t heard of one and still have a good ol’ fashioned cellular phone. And unfortunately for us, we don’t have access to all of those cool apps (short for appsplications) to play around with. So I’ve been developing some apps for all of us cellphone users. They’re pretty basic, but at least they’ll make us feel better about not owning an iPhone.
This first one is called iMportant People. Twice a day it texts you the the name of somebody important who never had an iPhone. For example:
Like I said before, one of the main reasons I/we don’t have iPhones is because of how expensive they end up being. I mean, some people pay over a hundred dollars a month for service on those things! I, however, only have to pay $10 a month because I’m still on my parents’ family plan (and I can text my mom for FREE). So I’ve made an app that texts me the names of things I can buy with all of the money I’m saving from not having an iPhone. For example:
And this next app is something that the iPhone users will surely be jealous of. I call it iNteraction. What it does, is it shuts down your phone completely, forcing you to interact and make eye contact with real people.
I’m a firm believer that all parents should read to their kids. Illustrated children’s books are a great tool for developing your child’s mind at an early age and teaching them valuable lessons in an educational manner. That is, until some sick fuck doctor comes out with a book like this:Please know that this is a real book. It’s used to teach children that it’s okay to have diarrhea. Which leads me to believe that there are parents out their teaching their kids that it’s not okay to have diarrhea. But the reviews of this book on Amazon are glowing. So I guess gross stuff is the next big thing in parenting. And I’ve never been one to pass up a money-making opportunity, so I’ve gone ahead and made some children’s books of my own:
I’ve made a horrible mistake! I just accidentally signed up for a yearlong subscription to BUTTMAN MAGAZINE. I had no idea, but the magazine is literally full of pictures of women’s butts! See, I thought I was subscribing to the comic book adventures of my favorite superhero Butt Man. COMPLETELY DIFFERENT. Everytime Butt Man solves a crime, he leaves a cigarette butt so the police know it was him. Granted, he usually solves the crime in the first three pages and then spends the rest of the issue gawking at huge butts, but still! This is not what I had in mind! And to top things off, I had the subscription shipped to my work! Which I guess isn’t that big of a deal considering I work in a porn shop that is one of the primary distributors for Buttman Magazine, but still! I don’t want them to think I’m some sort of deviant.
So now every time a copy of Buttman shows up, I’m gonna have to make up some sort of excuse so they won’t think I’m a weirdo, like “Sorry guys, but I really get off to women’s butts,” or “Brutha just loves a good butt!” or “Does it really surprise you guys that much considering I’ve made you refer to me as Buttman Dan for the last six years?”
“Dammit, Butt Man! What makes you think you’re above the law?!”
Greetings from the alternate reality of the year 2009! Wow! Can you believe it, we’re finally living in the future! I hope you’re having a very happy new year in this strange new world. I’m currently experiencing somewhat of a futuristic stomach flu. It feels like I’ve got World War VII going on in my stomach right now (one of the less violent world wars, but a war none the less). YEEE-OOWWW! Man I feel like I’ve got to shit a futuristic space crane. I think it may have been something I ate. Last night I killed the last of my bad clones so I figured I’d treat myself to a nice dinner. I moonwalked on down to my favorite energy refueling station (that’s a restaraunt for you oldies out there), HAMBURGER HIJINX 5000. From the menu I chose a small blue, easy to swallow caplet that was suppose to taste like sweet yams (of the future), parsley (of the future), veal chops (of the future), and a glass of Canterbury Meadows (1981). However, the refueling station made a mistake and accidently served me a flying car caplet instead of a delicious veal dinner caplet. I currently have a two ton, flying Ford Taurus resting in my stomach. I’m furious! The waiter, however, was really nice about it so I still tipped him 100 glangons. He then explained to me that we still use dollars in the future and that I can’t just call high fives “glangons” and pass it off as a tip. I then politely took 20 glangons back.
Back to the car that’s in my stomach! I look ridiculous. There’s no need for the existance of a flying car caplet! It’s just corporations trying to capitalize on two inventions by making one really big stupid invention (much like the “strawberry scented satellite” that came out last year. I don’t want to buy a whole satellite just so my bathroom will smell better). I can’t function nearly as well now. I can’t get into my car (Yes, “because my car got into me.” Yeah, that’s very clever. No one’s ever said that to me before. You’re a regular Yakof Smirnof’s grandson). I look like I’m pregnant with a cyborg whale shark! I’ve had to cancel all my zero gravity tennis lessons (but that’s just because I can’t afford them anymore. My dad warned me about being a theatre major. But I just laughed and I told him “Call me Laertes, father, or call me nothing”).
The doctors say that my stomach acids will eventually eat away at the car. But it’s a TAURUS for god’s sake. It’s built FORD tough. I’m screwed! It’s gonna take forever. Maybe if I’d been served a KIA or a Geo, I’d be okay. But no, I had to go and swallow the most dependable car in the western hemisphere. I might as well have swallowed a bullet proof oil drum full of the Lord almighty’s wrath and fury! Alright, I’m done complaining. We’re only a few weeks into this new future and my new year’s resolution was to stop carrying a full body mirror around everywhere I go. God, I say that every year, but this time it’s for real. Anyways, enjoy the “future.”
You’re never gonna believe this, but I was at a yard sale the other day and purchased some gross old lamp. At least I thought it was a gross old lamp. Well, it was a gross old lamp. But it was also more! I started rubbing the lamp (DON’T ASK WHY, IT’S JUST SOMETHING I DO WITH EVERYTHING I BUY) and a genie came out of it! And just like they’re supposed to, he offered me three wishes. So of course I had to try what everyone tries and wish for a million wishes. And you know what? He granted it! What a cool genie, right? So I got one million wishes!
Long story short, I only have six left (but I do have six less than one million individually-wished bagels). And I need help deciding what to wish for. Here are the things I want:
For Everclear’s “Father of Mine” to start playing every time I do anything.
For Narnia to be real, but completely inaccessible (like, the door is at the center of a huge rock or something)
To walk by David Bowie on the street, but not realize it’s him until too late.
To own a pair of long johns that aren’t saggy in the butt.
For Christmas only to happen on years that I’m ready for it.
For someone to invent machine that can calculate simple math problems just by pushing a few buttons.
The courage to tell my mailman to shut his trap.
The ability to know what someone’s thinking just by asking them.
A region-free DVD player that costs under $100.
To always know when enough is enough.
To say the darnedest things, despite being an adult.
To find true love (“true love” is my nickname for my keys).
To have cut the red wire instead of the blue wire.
To stop “giving it up” at the drop of a hat.
Killer Instinct (video game or instinct will both do).
That I gave Soul Asylum’s “Hang Time” a little bit more of a chance.
That I never rubbed that stupid lamp to begin with so I wouldn’t be faced with the hardest decision of my LIFE.
These are all pretty essential things and I really can’t chose six over the other. Your advice, please! Thanks! I really can’t wait to get these wishes over with so I can get this genie out of my life. He keeps eating all of my food and making moves on my sister. It’s like, dude, she’s 18 years old and you’re like five million years old. And will you get your futon out of my kitchen? Seriously, dude’s a fucking creep.
We recently shot a test-film for the film website Indy Mogul. They have a show called “Backyard FX” where they show you how to make cheap film effects, and then make a test film using that effect. The effect we were asked for make the film for was “Ax in the back.” View it here:
Have you ever noticed that every letter in the alphabet has its own name except for “W”? It’s name is basically a description of what it looks like using the characteristics of another letter. “Double U.” Two “U’s” side by side would look like a “W” (depending on the font). I think this is a great idea, because in a world of too much information, it’s one less letter that we have to waste our efforts memorizing. And thus I’ve taken the liberty of doing that with a few more letters so we can unclutter the alphabet just a little bit more.
Please know that this is a 
“Dammit, Butt Man! What makes you think you’re above the law?!”
Greetings from the alternate reality of the year 2009! Wow! Can you believe it, we’re finally living in the future! I hope you’re having a very happy new year in this strange new world. I’m currently experiencing somewhat of a futuristic stomach flu. It feels like I’ve got World War VII going on in my stomach right now (one of the less violent world wars, but a war none the less). YEEE-OOWWW! Man I feel like I’ve got to shit a futuristic space crane. I think it may have been something I ate. Last night I killed the last of my bad clones so I figured I’d treat myself to a nice dinner. I moonwalked on down to my favorite energy refueling station (that’s a restaraunt for you oldies out there), HAMBURGER HIJINX 5000. From the menu I chose a small blue, easy to swallow caplet that was suppose to taste like sweet yams (of the future), parsley (of the future), veal chops (of the future), and a glass of Canterbury Meadows (1981). However, the refueling station made a mistake and accidently served me a flying car caplet instead of a delicious veal dinner caplet. I currently have a two ton, flying Ford Taurus resting in my stomach. I’m furious! The waiter, however, was really nice about it so I still tipped him 100 glangons. He then explained to me that we still use dollars in the future and that I can’t just call high fives “glangons” and pass it off as a tip. I then politely took 20 glangons back.
