I Would Kill Myself, But This Suicide Note Is Too Pretentious To Leave Behind

I want to kill myself in a tub of warm milk with chamomile tea bags all up in it. Jack Kerouac says that the meaning of life is living automatically. I fucking hate meetings. So yeah I wanna die. Death is such well wait I guess I don’t wanna die. No I do.

I am afraid of diabetes because it looks like too much of a hassle.

Needles, pills

Heroin is too much of a hassle.

Needles, pills.

I wanna die with a kitten on my chest Koko style

They don't make primates like that anymore

I wanna die in a massage parlor with Linda Rondstadts “Long Long Time” playing

I would kill myself but I’m afraid the FBI is reading this and getting the wrong idea.

I’m middle eastern u know.

So im not alive because I want to be alive but because I do not want to live up to the stereotype of being suicidal.

But I guess where there’s smoke there’s fire.

I am arab American – I wanna kill myself but I wanna do it with donuts and chamomile tea.

And a kitten made of insulin.

Short Story: The Improvisers

It’s been a minute and a mile since I’ve written a short story. This work of flash fiction is inspired by the WGA strike

Barton Chesterpiro’s jaw dropped when he saw the TV set.

When he first looked at the wall of TVs, he gave a warm, knowing smile while drawing from his Chesterfield.

All smoke breaks from writer’s guild strikes should be so poignant.

The knowing smile evinced his beatific understanding of how vital television was; of how TV would never be replaced by the ugly, deformed twin of TV that was YouTube.

But when he focused his eyes on the news story, his jaw dropped.

The Improvisers had taken over.

Improvisers?

Every good-looking improv student was cast on every narrative show on television. What’s more, networks did not conceal the automatic, unconscious nature of the programming. There was CSI: Improv. Lost: Improv Island. 24: A Day For Improv was a runaway success; callers would give Lower East Side celebrity Reefer Mutherland improv suggestions. One week, he wrestled a crestfallen, morbidly obese dingo nestled in a sequoia.

People loved this more than reality TV.

Reality TV had confessionals, which were a relatively distancing device. I Love New York looked more and more like a cold, Teutonic, Brechtian drama.

Who's the mack tonight?


Improv involved the audience. It meant spontaneity; being in the moment; audience control.

There was even American Idol Improv, where singers had to sing whatever callers requested. Or even make up songs based on viewer suggestions. Like the one time Amber Bambrella sang an impromptu ditty about cancer cells metastasizing. So awkward (the camera cut to an 8-year-old chemo victim with a “Tommy, Can You Hear Me?” sign), yet so addicting.

Hellfire and damnation, I am sick of writing for free; I’m going on strike.

Worst Funk Awards

Worst Funk Philosophy Book: I Think Therefore I Jam, written by Dr. Souls

Worst Funk President: Abrajam Stinkin

Worst Funk Novel: Jamerican Psycho, Bret Easton Smellis

Worst Funk Comedy Tour: Non-def Comedy Jam

Worst Funk Vegan Band: Beat Is Murder

Worst Funk Social Networking Site (three-way-tie): MyBass; BassBook; Funkster

Worst Funk Computer: The Mack 3000

Worst FunkGadget: The iFunk

Worst Prime Minister of Funk: Mahmoud Ahmadineslam of Ijam


I want you to join Uncle Jam’s Army

Happy Birthday Song vs. Superbug

Did you know that singing the “Happy Birthday” song to yourself while washing your hands can help you fight off the deadly staph infection that’s killing more Americans than AIDS every year?

If you just touched a toilet seat with fluorescent-colored ectoplasm, you might want to add the “How Old Are You Know” remix.

Now whenever I celebrate birthdays, I am reminded of the gruelling battle against MRSA, which makes the cake that much sweeter.

What's happening now is that every now and again, I sing "Happy Birthday" out loud while washing my hands, which draws many a puzzled look in my direction.

That said, fight staph today by wishing Giulia Rozzi a happy birthday!

Lyrics:

Happy birthday to you
Happy birthday to you
Happy birthday dear Giulia Rozzi
Happy birthday to you

How old are you know
How old are you know
How old are you know
How old are you know

Happy birthday to you
You live in a zoo
You look like a gorilla
And yo mamma does too

Happy birthday to you
Staph might just kill you
Wash your hands every time
You go to the loo

What Ahmadinejad Said Off-Stage At Columbia University

Yeah, we all know, Ahmadinejad, president of Iran, said there are no gays in Iran and that the Holocaust didn’t happen during his little press junket at Columbia University. But if you think that was shocking, you have no idea what was overheard coming out of his bilious, hairy mouth when he toured the rest of the campus.

Student Union: We don’t have wacky, college humor newspapers in Iran. Well, except for The HA!-locaust. It’s like our version of The Onion with funny fake news stories about the fake Holocaust

Library: We have no Internet in Iran. Only Sega CDs with looped footage of my speeches.


What is this Night Trap you speak of?


Science Building: Oh, so that’s what uranium is. I thought it was an aquarium filled with piss.

Frat Party: Awww, man. Why you gotta lip the blunt like that? It’s like you’re an Iranian male prostitute swallowing the firm, thick, veiny penis of a tough Middle Eastern leader who likes wearing Member’s Only jackets. What?


You ladies really need to wash your burkas. Am I right, fellas?

Eight Things You Don’t Know About Me

Ray has tagged me for an “Eight Things You Don’t Know About Me” meme.

Here are the rules:

1. We have to post these rules before we give you the facts.
2. Players start with eight random facts/habits about themselves.
3. People who are tagged write their own blog about their eight things and post these rules.
4. At the end of your blog, you need to choose eight people to get tagged and list their names. Don’t forget to leave them a comment telling them they’re tagged, and to read your blog.

Here are mine:

1) I used to collect girl dolls as a kid For the straightest reasons too; I wanted to see what Jem looked like naked

2) I used to think "tits" was a Korean word I spent my childhood in Flushing, Queens with Korean kids that peppered their everyday speech with Korean words. I thought tits was one of them. I was shocked to hear a white guy say it in an American movie.

3) I like some Sugar Ray songs

Well just this one


I know, Mark McGrath is a meathead and usually Sugar Ray sucks, but it's good to imagine this song during the "rough relationship" part of the soundtrack of your life (forgive English sucky, I have to go to work)

4) I used to love Billy Joel's "You're Only Human (Second Wind)" This was at the time of Ozzy Osbourne's "Suicide Solution" controversy and this song was a life-affirming answer to that

5) KISS used to scare the shit out of me I mustered some courage when I was ten and saw the opening credits of KISS Meets the Phantom of the Park. I've never been the same since.


6) I shat my pants after eating Burger King Good thing I worked at an animals shelter when it happened -- imagine I shat my pants at an editorial meeting or the UCB?

7) I'm on the watch list Everytime they tell me this, they hit the return key on their keyboard and say I'm ok to board. It's like a boring, awkward version of Phillip K. Dick.

8)I smoked crack by accident I was hanging with these street toughs and they rolled a blunt. I smoked it and it tasted funny. They explained I was smoking a banger-a blunt with crack in it. Changed my life, much like the KISS movie did.

Read these great bloggers who will hopefully play along:

Hopefully these bloggers will play along:

The Apiary

Dead Frog

TSOYA

Stereogum (Scott and Amrit)

French Fry Head

Third Evolution

My Daily Observational Humor

If Shit Were A Beer

It would be spelled Schitt

Shitty NRA-Approved Bon Jovi Parody About VTech

Shots in the hall
And guns get the blame
VA Tech give guns
A bad name
I bring my gun
And my beer to the range
VA Tech gives guns
A bad name

This blog wants to pick a fight with u

What the fuck? What did you fucking say about not giving you enough links? Got something to say? Say it in the fucking comments. What did you say about the word "fuck?" Huh?

You want some hard fucking news? Fine Mary Tyler Moore: get out your fucking tape recorder and press badge. This one's an exclusive:

Editorial: Fuck Face, 1931-2007
A contradictory figure in world politics, Fuck Face should be remembered for the reforms he launched.

Fuckfacia today is not the Fuck Face Union of old, Pussyqueer Poontang notwithstanding. For that, you can both thank and curse Fuck Face, who died Monday at age 76.

Oh wait: the story needs artwork:



Sorry about the resolution.

Oh wow. Nevermind - I thought you were someone completely different.
I like your blog too.

How To Build Your Own Interrogation Room

There are nagging questions and there are nagging questions. What do you do when, say, a friend calls you "chief" and you want to know if he's being ironic or not? Or if he even is a he? Just make your own interrogation room. It's a lot easier than you think!

1) The less room, the better. A classic beginners' mistake is to assume that you need to build a new room. Nope; the computer room is good enough. Just make sure your subject is blindfolded and cover the whole carpet with plastic floor mats. Or cover the plastic floor mats with rugs.

2) A mirror is important; two-way or one-way. You know how the suspect always cracks wise about how he knows the mirror is a one-way glass and he knows the cops are on the other side? Good; after you take the blindfold off, the suspect, deceived by the new floor mats, will think he's in a bona-fide interrogation room with a one-way glass. Deny it so he believes that the mirror is a one-way mirror. He'll never suspect the plush whale with a video camera on top of its head.


3) Get a spare chair and/or table. Throwing furniture is not as easy as it looks. Even after you avoid giving yourself a inguinal hernia or a slipped disk, you may still damage your chair. Sure you'll feel like Jack Bauer but you might not be able to sit down and enjoy the feeling after you break your swivel chair. So make sure to run to Staples and buy a simple folding chair and pick up a chrome dinette from wherever fine dinettes are sold.

4) Scopolamine is overrated. You might watch "24" and think that serums like scopolamine are necessary to win the war on error. There's a much easier substance that flys under the liberal watchdog radar: antique soda. Go on eBay and buy some old bottles of some obsolete beverage like Diet Rite or Crystal Pepsi. Then offer the suspect a drink. One sip of the flat, lukewarm soft drink will make him cough up the truth. Of course, threatening to inject the detainee with Tab will yield more results.


So all you need are plastic floor mats, a mirror, a folding chair, needles, a plush whale, a video camera, antique sodas and a chrome dinette and you can have your own private Gitmo. The only question your friend won't be able to answer is why you didn't do this sooner.

The Worst Rap Couplet I've Inadvertently Thought Of

X marks the spot
Sex marks the hot

Retarded Vampire Blogs in the Morning

I vant to suck your blog!

Alternative Tragedy Night

I do not hate alternative comedy, but like anything (including alcohol, pot, sex and LSD) I can only have so much. Besides having my fill of the alt-trappings ('80s nostalgia, absurdism) the comedy itself can be a bit much. What if we transferred all that alternative hipness from laughter to tears? I propose an Alternative Tragedy Night at UCB. Or the PIT.

Alternative comedians tend to dress up like hipsters, wacky characters or wacky hipster characters.

Alternative tragedians dress up in their work clothes, realizing that life does not get better than freelance or temping.

Alternative comedians use bizarre, colorful non-sequiturs to make sure their comedy does not sound routine.

Alternative tragedians whine about the strangest things ("If we switch to alternative fuels, we might never see the day when cars fly.")

Alternative comedians use different kinds of media (PowerPoint, film, drawings).

Alternative tragedians use different kinds of medication (Wellbutrin, weed, Sizzurp).

Alternative comedians make references to indie rock and get laughs.

Alternative tragedians make references to indie rock...on the mixtape they just made.

Alternative comedians scoff at the two-drink minimum rule.

Alternative tragedians scoff at the two Xanex and alcohol rule.

Alternative comedians might not get exposure on TV but have a cult following on the Web.

Alternative tragedians have no exposure on TV or the Web because they joined a cult in West Virginia.

Alternative comedians play with the rules of comedy.

Alternative tragedians play with the rules of gravity.