Anyone who has been in downtown Minneapolis on a weekday during lunchtime (or at Happy Hour) has seen them. Their ubiquity is remarkable, but even more conspicuous is their homogeneity. The same hair, clothes and mannerisms. I had always thought it a result of a prevailing corporate culture. The reality is much more disturbing.
My source deep inside The Target Corporation (I’ll call him “Spot”—to protect his identity) revealed to me the REAL reason these women share such uncanny similarities.
Here is what I have learned from him so far:
-Fully 90 % of female employees at The Target Corporation are genetic clones grown in pods at a secret facility in Apple Valley. They are designated as “Target Pod Unit-Female” (Base Models 1-4.) They have a lifespan of only 10 years. (Those tracked for middle management—Models #MM242 and #MM248 have 15 and 20-year life-spans, respectively.)
-The original genetic material from which all TPU-Fs are spawned comes from one source, Beth Aarsvold Olson. She was the “Princess Kay of the Milky Way” butter sculpture winner from the 1977 Minnesota State Fair. How it was she came to be “Eve” to an army of corporate clones is cloudy, but it has something to do with a sordid and short-lived connection to a scientist in the animal husbandry division of Cargill in the early 1980’s.
-While Target essentially “owns” all TPU-Fs, not paying them a regular salary would obviously attract attention, “The Eye” (as “Spot” derisively refers to Target) arranges direct deposits into each pod’s bank account. Through a series of shell companies, Target secretly owns the following downtown Minneapolis drinking and dining establishments: “Brit’s,” “Cosmos,” “The Local” and “Solera.” The recent popularity of The Cosmopolitan and the chocolate martini is no accident. A predisposition for these drinks is genetically programmed into all TPU-Fs. Thus, at $8 a pop Target is able to recapture most of the money it pays out to its clones.
-The predominant hair color used on TPU-Fs (known internally simply as “Target Blond 11”) is available commercially through the L’Oreal Company as #8.2 Champagne Chili (Medium Iridescent Blonde.) Profits from the patent on this popular color are funneled back into the pod research and development program.
-The Target ID badges TPU-Fs wear on lanyards are in fact tracking and control devices. They are never removed, simply tucked away under their blouses.
-Like many women today, TPU-Fs often employ over the counter teeth bleaching products (or pay dentists in Target’s health plan for expensive procedures.) Unbeknownst to the pods, left alone their teeth will actually whiten themselves automatically through a complex process of osmosis originally pioneered by chemists at the Miss America Labs in Atlantic City, NJ. (The chemical process itself is closely guarded, but sources indicate a time-released sodium hypochlorite (NaOCl) compound is imbedded in the dentin.)
The method by which TPU-F’s are eventually “retired” involves the sanitary napkin dispensers in Target office buildings and the details are so horribly unpleasant that decorum prevents me from revealing them.
This is all the information I have at this point. Recent attempts to contact “Spot” have proved fruitless, and I have begun to fear the worst.
Your intrepid investigator,
Brian David Shuey
Friday, September 29, 2006
Tuesday, September 19, 2006
I LOVE LIVING IN THE CITY
To the Occupant(s) of Apartment #____,
As best as I can tell, you were pounding on your ceiling (or, as I have come to call it, "my floor") last night. As this is a very limited way in which to communicate, I can only make assumptions about your point. Given the timing of your little outbursts my best guess is that you could hear the floorboards creaking under my feet. They will do that! If you have concerns about the quality of the flooring in this building I would suggest you take it up with the management.
This is my apartment. I live in it. I am not throwing wild parties. I am not operating a 24-hour roller disco. I am not practicing close-order drill in full pack and combat boots. But I repeat: I LIVE IN IT. As I am not invalided or prone in any way to be sedentary I will tend to move about from time to time. In fact, if need (or whim) be I will move about ALL THE TIME. Any time. Night or Day. Once again, MY PLACE. While I have not examined my lease recently (I have lived here quite contentedly and in good standing with both my neighbors and the management for nearly three years...YOU?) I am almost certain WALKING is not listed as a prohibited activity.
Make no mistake, I am not about to engage in some passive-aggressive pissing match with you. You live in an apartment building in the city. If this style of living does not suit you, that is not my concern. I (and many people I know) have dealt with the likes of you before. I suggest you adjust your expectations to match the reality of your situation. Or move. I understand the Boundary Waters in Northern Minnesota offer nearly unmatched solitude. Consider it.
Consider this as well. I have done nothing out of line and you are not going to shame or intimidate me into believing I have. So don't waste your time.
Here neighbor, is the meat of the matter: It is my name that appears on the lease for Apartment #19. And more the point, my name on the rent checks. Should you decide to pay the rent on this apartment perhaps we can reach an agreement on the time and manner in in which I move about in it. Until then, you may pound on your own ceiling until you break your broom or injure yourself. I honestly don't care.
Sincerely,
Brian Shuey
Apt. #19
As best as I can tell, you were pounding on your ceiling (or, as I have come to call it, "my floor") last night. As this is a very limited way in which to communicate, I can only make assumptions about your point. Given the timing of your little outbursts my best guess is that you could hear the floorboards creaking under my feet. They will do that! If you have concerns about the quality of the flooring in this building I would suggest you take it up with the management.
This is my apartment. I live in it. I am not throwing wild parties. I am not operating a 24-hour roller disco. I am not practicing close-order drill in full pack and combat boots. But I repeat: I LIVE IN IT. As I am not invalided or prone in any way to be sedentary I will tend to move about from time to time. In fact, if need (or whim) be I will move about ALL THE TIME. Any time. Night or Day. Once again, MY PLACE. While I have not examined my lease recently (I have lived here quite contentedly and in good standing with both my neighbors and the management for nearly three years...YOU?) I am almost certain WALKING is not listed as a prohibited activity.
Make no mistake, I am not about to engage in some passive-aggressive pissing match with you. You live in an apartment building in the city. If this style of living does not suit you, that is not my concern. I (and many people I know) have dealt with the likes of you before. I suggest you adjust your expectations to match the reality of your situation. Or move. I understand the Boundary Waters in Northern Minnesota offer nearly unmatched solitude. Consider it.
Consider this as well. I have done nothing out of line and you are not going to shame or intimidate me into believing I have. So don't waste your time.
Here neighbor, is the meat of the matter: It is my name that appears on the lease for Apartment #19. And more the point, my name on the rent checks. Should you decide to pay the rent on this apartment perhaps we can reach an agreement on the time and manner in in which I move about in it. Until then, you may pound on your own ceiling until you break your broom or injure yourself. I honestly don't care.
Sincerely,
Brian Shuey
Apt. #19
Tuesday, September 12, 2006
WHAT I WANTED TO SAY (AND WHAT I SAID)
So he says: "Now THIS is more like it!" raising his hands to the sky.
What I WANTED to say: "Jesus fucking Christ you fucking CRETIN! Enough about the goddamn weather! Every day for five years I've been coming out here to catch a quick smoke and a bit of peace and quiet and you're always fast on my heels wanted to have a chat. And always the weather! Nothing but the goddamn weather! What's with you, anyway? Haven't you noticed that for four and a half of these five years I have employed every conceivable strategy-- both subtle and overt --to communicate to you that I do not wish to discuss the weather? That I do not, in fact, wish to discuss ANYTHING! That I would merely like to take a brief respite from work for a cigarette and a moment of quiet reflection. And anyway, you're just talking AT me. You don't even notice if I respond. I could be a fucking TREE for all you care. When I'm not here you probably DO talk to the trees, don't you? You probably say things like, 'Well fellas, looks like you're gonna get a free watering today!' Or, 'Getting cold. Guess you'll be losing those leaves soon.' Well sir, I am not a tree! I am a human man! And I demand that you respect the sanctity of my individual human mind and not clutter it up with your inane and pointless meteorological observations! Damn you, sir! Damn you!"
What I said: "Sure is! Much nicer than yesterday."
What I WANTED to say: "Jesus fucking Christ you fucking CRETIN! Enough about the goddamn weather! Every day for five years I've been coming out here to catch a quick smoke and a bit of peace and quiet and you're always fast on my heels wanted to have a chat. And always the weather! Nothing but the goddamn weather! What's with you, anyway? Haven't you noticed that for four and a half of these five years I have employed every conceivable strategy-- both subtle and overt --to communicate to you that I do not wish to discuss the weather? That I do not, in fact, wish to discuss ANYTHING! That I would merely like to take a brief respite from work for a cigarette and a moment of quiet reflection. And anyway, you're just talking AT me. You don't even notice if I respond. I could be a fucking TREE for all you care. When I'm not here you probably DO talk to the trees, don't you? You probably say things like, 'Well fellas, looks like you're gonna get a free watering today!' Or, 'Getting cold. Guess you'll be losing those leaves soon.' Well sir, I am not a tree! I am a human man! And I demand that you respect the sanctity of my individual human mind and not clutter it up with your inane and pointless meteorological observations! Damn you, sir! Damn you!"
What I said: "Sure is! Much nicer than yesterday."
Monday, September 11, 2006
THANKS FOR NOTHING, "SO-CALLED" STREET TEAM
Well, the first event in "The Brian Shuey Street Team" calendar has come and gone and the turnout was less than spectacular. In fact, not one of you could trouble yourself to attend. I know I did not officially announce the date, but then ANTICIPATING MY NEEDS is clearly implied in the job description.
Nonetheless, "Fall House Cleaning 2006" was not a total loss. One potential recruit did wander in, no doubt enticed by the smell of fresh brownies and cherry Kool-Aid (By the way, I made enough FOR ALL OF YOU, so I guess I will be eating brownies for a while.) He had quite an appetite and seemed genuinely enthusiastic about his free "BRIAN SHUEY STREET TEAM FALL HOUSE CLEANING 2006" t-shirt, but I could not get him to do any actual work. He stole a tray of Jell-O treats while my back was turned and scampered off down the hallway.
So it fell upon me to do all the work myself. Sweeping, mopping, cleaning toilets. That's right, "Street Team," Saturday afternoon saw your fearless leader on his hands and knees scrubbing floors like a common charwoman. These are precisely the sorts of tasks you folks were assembled to unburden me of.
In addition to the cleaning, there was a great deal of sorting junk to do. I filled two contractor bags brimming with discardables and carried them three floors down to the dumpster. Again, with no one's aid. Your loss, because here are...
JUST A FEW OF THE THINGS YOU COULD HAVE HAD BUT THAT I THREW AWAY BECAUSE YOU COULDN'T BE BOTHERED TO SHOW UP:
-300 books of matches- all with at least one match left. Also, dozens of disposable lighters that had, at best one more "light" left in them.
-All my post-9/11 pornographic magazines. They say "everything changed" that day, including it would seem, porn. I can't say I've enjoyed the changes.
-A bunch of wrist watches. (I dislike watches immensely but often receive them as gifts.)
-A VHS tape of rock videos recorded off of MTV's "120 Minutes" in the late 1980's—including the Depeche Mode video that was playing when I lost my virginity.
-One full box of galvanized roofing nails. (It occurred to me that while I do have a roof over my head, nailing it is not my responsibility.)
-A very old computer who's hard drive contained the majority of my tortured adolescent poetry. (Including at least one work with a couplet rhyming "rain" and "pain.")
-So many rubber bands.
So yes, any or all of these goodies could have been yours, but your laziness and disregard for me prevented that.
I am currently reevaluating your individual positions on the Street Team and the Team's existence as a whole.
Brian David Shuey
Note: Groveling messages of apology will go a long way to maintaining your active status on the BSST.
Nonetheless, "Fall House Cleaning 2006" was not a total loss. One potential recruit did wander in, no doubt enticed by the smell of fresh brownies and cherry Kool-Aid (By the way, I made enough FOR ALL OF YOU, so I guess I will be eating brownies for a while.) He had quite an appetite and seemed genuinely enthusiastic about his free "BRIAN SHUEY STREET TEAM FALL HOUSE CLEANING 2006" t-shirt, but I could not get him to do any actual work. He stole a tray of Jell-O treats while my back was turned and scampered off down the hallway.
So it fell upon me to do all the work myself. Sweeping, mopping, cleaning toilets. That's right, "Street Team," Saturday afternoon saw your fearless leader on his hands and knees scrubbing floors like a common charwoman. These are precisely the sorts of tasks you folks were assembled to unburden me of.
In addition to the cleaning, there was a great deal of sorting junk to do. I filled two contractor bags brimming with discardables and carried them three floors down to the dumpster. Again, with no one's aid. Your loss, because here are...
JUST A FEW OF THE THINGS YOU COULD HAVE HAD BUT THAT I THREW AWAY BECAUSE YOU COULDN'T BE BOTHERED TO SHOW UP:
-300 books of matches- all with at least one match left. Also, dozens of disposable lighters that had, at best one more "light" left in them.
-All my post-9/11 pornographic magazines. They say "everything changed" that day, including it would seem, porn. I can't say I've enjoyed the changes.
-A bunch of wrist watches. (I dislike watches immensely but often receive them as gifts.)
-A VHS tape of rock videos recorded off of MTV's "120 Minutes" in the late 1980's—including the Depeche Mode video that was playing when I lost my virginity.
-One full box of galvanized roofing nails. (It occurred to me that while I do have a roof over my head, nailing it is not my responsibility.)
-A very old computer who's hard drive contained the majority of my tortured adolescent poetry. (Including at least one work with a couplet rhyming "rain" and "pain.")
-So many rubber bands.
So yes, any or all of these goodies could have been yours, but your laziness and disregard for me prevented that.
I am currently reevaluating your individual positions on the Street Team and the Team's existence as a whole.
Brian David Shuey
Note: Groveling messages of apology will go a long way to maintaining your active status on the BSST.
Wednesday, September 06, 2006
I'VE WRITTEN A "SIGN-OFF" PHRASE FOR KATIE COURIC!
Apparently, Katie Couric has asked America to help her come up with a "sign-off" phrase for her nightly news casts. (It would seem CBS is suffering from a shortage of writers.)
What follows is the email I sent to "The CBS Evening News."
Greetings,
So as I understand it, Katie Couric is looking for a "sign-off" phrase a la Ed Murrow's "Good night and good luck."
Might I suggest the following:
"Thanks for sharing part of your dinner hour with me. As you scrape the un-eaten peas from your cold, neglectful husband's TV dinner tray into that flimsy, off-brand garbage bag and drag it to the curb in front of your sqalid, miserable little house remember: I make $13 million dollars a year to look pretty, smile and read the news. I'm Katie Couric. Good night, suckers!"
Too much?
Best regards,
Brian David Shuey
Minneapolis, MN
http://mrshuey.blogspot.com/
What follows is the email I sent to "The CBS Evening News."
Greetings,
So as I understand it, Katie Couric is looking for a "sign-off" phrase a la Ed Murrow's "Good night and good luck."
Might I suggest the following:
"Thanks for sharing part of your dinner hour with me. As you scrape the un-eaten peas from your cold, neglectful husband's TV dinner tray into that flimsy, off-brand garbage bag and drag it to the curb in front of your sqalid, miserable little house remember: I make $13 million dollars a year to look pretty, smile and read the news. I'm Katie Couric. Good night, suckers!"
Too much?
Best regards,
Brian David Shuey
Minneapolis, MN
http://mrshuey.blogspot.com/
Monday, September 04, 2006
MY INTERVIEW WITH GEORGE W. BUSH (PT. 2)
BDS: So, Mr. President, the last time we spoke you were enthusiastically touting your new, "Moving Forward" initiative. How's that going?
GWB: Done. It's a done deal. Dead in the water.
BDS: So I'm guessing you got a letter from...
GWB: Yeah, we got one of those "Seize and Detest" letters from Toyota.
BDS: You mean, "Cease and Desist?"
GWB: Whatever. Harriet's on it. (Ed. Note: White House Counsel Harriet Miers.) She says she thinks we might be able to fight it, but knowing it wasn't really MY IDEA makes me kind of just want to drop the whole thing.
BDS: So you'll be taking down the shark posters?
GWB: Hell NO! Harriet says so long as I cross out the words real good with a magic marker they can stay up. So they're stayin' up! The sharks will remind me to do a little more research before I jump feet-first into something. What can I say, I'm a charger. I charge ahead. It's my nature.
BDS: So you're beginning to think that maybe that's not always the best approach?
GWB: No, I'm still a charger. But now I'm gonna try to be a "cautious" charger.
BDS: So, for instance, Iraq: Charger. Iran: Cautious charger?
GWB: Yeah! Now you're getting it!
BDS: Now last week I tried to discuss this fall's elections. What do you think...
GWB: Whoa! Hold on. There's ELECTIONS this fall? Hell, I ain't even campaigned yet.
BDS: No sir. These are mid-term Congressional elections. You know, House and Senate seats?
GWB: Oh... Well, when am I up for election again?
BDS: Well sir, your term ends in 2008, but the 22nd Amendment to the Constitution prohibits you from running again. A President may only be serve two terms in office.
GWB: Oh, that's right. It's Jeb's turn next.
BDS: I suppose you could serve again if you changed the Constitution.
GWB: Really? You mean it?
BDS: Well, strictly speaking the President doesn't change the Constitution. Congress does it through the process of adding amendments. And then the legislative bodies of the several States must approve. But I suppose there's no harm in bringing it up with them.
GWB: Man, that Constitution's really somethin' else! I should read it sometime. Hey, what if I let Jeb have it for four years, and then I could have it back after him? I'll tell ya, I don't think America is gonna take to him quite the way they took to me.
BDS: I don't see why not. Congress can fashion the amendment to suit that.
GWB: So I take a break for awhile and come back all rested and ready in 2014.
BDS: Actually, it would be 2012.
GWB: 2012! Hot Damn! Ill be 63 years old in 2012, just hittin' my prime.
BDS: Well, in truth you'd be 66.
GWB: Really?
BDS: Yes, sir. You were born on July 6, 1946.
GWB: '46. Really? Huh? Now see, I know my birthday's right after the 4th of July because one birthday I remember having my hand all bandaged-up from a Roman candle thing going wrong. That's before I took the Lord into my heart. You know, back then.
BDS: The drinking days?
GWB: Yeah. Drinking and fireworks are just bad together. Fun though.
BDS: How about the Lord and fireworks?
GWB: They go together just fine.
BDS: So you think Jesus would approve of fireworks?
GWB: I don't think He'd use them himself, but I don't think he'd mind so much if his children did. Except maybe for Roman candles, on account of the trouble he had with Rome.
BDS: Perhaps that's why it was a Roman candle that blew-up in your hand. Maybe He was trying to tell you something.
GWB: Hey! You know, I never thought about it that way. Is there any such thing as Jewish fireworks? You know, "Jewish Candles?"
BDS: Ummm... I think a Jewish candle is a Menorah.
GWB: Never mind. Did you see, "The Passion?"
BDS: Well, to be honest sir, someone spoiled the ending for me so I just skipped it.
GWB: (To Karl Rove, in the other room) Hey! Turd-blossom! Get the projector cranked-up! We're watching "The Passion" again.
BDS: Actually sir, if we could just finish the interview I would...
GWB: Stuff the interview! You ain't leaving here until you see "The Passion." You like Orville Redenbacher?
BDS: The man or the popcorn?
GWB: It's always a fucking question with you, isn't it?
GWB: Done. It's a done deal. Dead in the water.
BDS: So I'm guessing you got a letter from...
GWB: Yeah, we got one of those "Seize and Detest" letters from Toyota.
BDS: You mean, "Cease and Desist?"
GWB: Whatever. Harriet's on it. (Ed. Note: White House Counsel Harriet Miers.) She says she thinks we might be able to fight it, but knowing it wasn't really MY IDEA makes me kind of just want to drop the whole thing.
BDS: So you'll be taking down the shark posters?
GWB: Hell NO! Harriet says so long as I cross out the words real good with a magic marker they can stay up. So they're stayin' up! The sharks will remind me to do a little more research before I jump feet-first into something. What can I say, I'm a charger. I charge ahead. It's my nature.
BDS: So you're beginning to think that maybe that's not always the best approach?
GWB: No, I'm still a charger. But now I'm gonna try to be a "cautious" charger.
BDS: So, for instance, Iraq: Charger. Iran: Cautious charger?
GWB: Yeah! Now you're getting it!
BDS: Now last week I tried to discuss this fall's elections. What do you think...
GWB: Whoa! Hold on. There's ELECTIONS this fall? Hell, I ain't even campaigned yet.
BDS: No sir. These are mid-term Congressional elections. You know, House and Senate seats?
GWB: Oh... Well, when am I up for election again?
BDS: Well sir, your term ends in 2008, but the 22nd Amendment to the Constitution prohibits you from running again. A President may only be serve two terms in office.
GWB: Oh, that's right. It's Jeb's turn next.
BDS: I suppose you could serve again if you changed the Constitution.
GWB: Really? You mean it?
BDS: Well, strictly speaking the President doesn't change the Constitution. Congress does it through the process of adding amendments. And then the legislative bodies of the several States must approve. But I suppose there's no harm in bringing it up with them.
GWB: Man, that Constitution's really somethin' else! I should read it sometime. Hey, what if I let Jeb have it for four years, and then I could have it back after him? I'll tell ya, I don't think America is gonna take to him quite the way they took to me.
BDS: I don't see why not. Congress can fashion the amendment to suit that.
GWB: So I take a break for awhile and come back all rested and ready in 2014.
BDS: Actually, it would be 2012.
GWB: 2012! Hot Damn! Ill be 63 years old in 2012, just hittin' my prime.
BDS: Well, in truth you'd be 66.
GWB: Really?
BDS: Yes, sir. You were born on July 6, 1946.
GWB: '46. Really? Huh? Now see, I know my birthday's right after the 4th of July because one birthday I remember having my hand all bandaged-up from a Roman candle thing going wrong. That's before I took the Lord into my heart. You know, back then.
BDS: The drinking days?
GWB: Yeah. Drinking and fireworks are just bad together. Fun though.
BDS: How about the Lord and fireworks?
GWB: They go together just fine.
BDS: So you think Jesus would approve of fireworks?
GWB: I don't think He'd use them himself, but I don't think he'd mind so much if his children did. Except maybe for Roman candles, on account of the trouble he had with Rome.
BDS: Perhaps that's why it was a Roman candle that blew-up in your hand. Maybe He was trying to tell you something.
GWB: Hey! You know, I never thought about it that way. Is there any such thing as Jewish fireworks? You know, "Jewish Candles?"
BDS: Ummm... I think a Jewish candle is a Menorah.
GWB: Never mind. Did you see, "The Passion?"
BDS: Well, to be honest sir, someone spoiled the ending for me so I just skipped it.
GWB: (To Karl Rove, in the other room) Hey! Turd-blossom! Get the projector cranked-up! We're watching "The Passion" again.
BDS: Actually sir, if we could just finish the interview I would...
GWB: Stuff the interview! You ain't leaving here until you see "The Passion." You like Orville Redenbacher?
BDS: The man or the popcorn?
GWB: It's always a fucking question with you, isn't it?
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