I get off work. It is unusually warm. I walk to the liquor store near the corner of Nicollet and Franklin. I buy a 12-pack of Beck's. On the way home the following things occur:
Witness a 13-year-old prostitute get into a rusted out maroon Chevy Nova driven by a rusted out 50-year-old man. Think about where she is about to put her face. Makes me less inclined towards dinner. Good thing I bought beer. Shouldn't think about those things.
Three teenage girls approach. The biggest one shouts at me, "What you lookin' at, motherfucker!" Then she smiles and says, "Naw, psych. I'm just playin'!" as she gently touches my shoulder. A simple, "hello:" would have been just fine. Nice smile, though.
Somalian guy yells at a veiled woman sitting in her car. For no reason he then turns and yells at me. He goes back to yelling at the veiled woman. I think about how she probably had her clitoris mutilated in less than hygienic conditions. You'd think that would be enough bullshit for one lifetime. But no, she's got to deal with this histrionic prick yelling at her in public. Now we're importing pricks. I should be allowed to hit this guy. I really want to hit this fucking guy.
Approaching the bus stop now. People waiting for the bus spit all the time. They just do. I even catch myself doing it from time to time. Piles of people's spit have now thawed and are slowly making there way toward the curb. That's global warming for you. I must hop scotch around rivers of human sputum. I look ridiculous doing my little dance. I must also dodge dog turds and plastic pint bottles of Popov Vodka. And Minneapolis isn't even a particularly dirty city.
Get the signal. Enter the crosswalk. A blind guy in his 20's is my opposite number on the other side. I am getting across faster than he is because my eyes work and any way I just sort of walk fast to begin with. It's just as well for him because there is an abrupt little squeak of tire rubber and I look left and see a Pontiac Grand Am with Wisconsin plates heading towards me. Two fat U. of M. girls (Don't ask me how I know these things. I know these things.) are having a nice little dish session. At the last moment the driver sees me and gives me a sheepish, Midwestern "Aw, jeez. Sorry," look.
As they speed away I use my free hand to make that sort of Italian hand gesture where you swipe the top of your hand along the underside of your chin. Then I realize they probably don't even know what that means. Then I realize I don't really know what that means. Maybe I should have just given them the finger, but I kind of think the finger is getting old. They make a left into the McDonald's Drive-Thru and disappear from sight. By the way, I would have left out the part about them being fat if they hadn't nearly clipped me and a blind guy and then gone right to the McDonald's but you know what, fuck them they were fat.
Almost home. The guy who drives the Head Start bus is leaning against it having a smoke. He asks me if he can "buy" one of my beers off me. I tell him I need all of them (which I'm beginning to think I do.) It's easier than explaining that I'm not in the habit of selling beers off the street to school bus drivers. I'm an idealist.
Finally I am home. I open a beer. I love the sound the bottle cap makes when it strikes the linoleum counter top.
Dinner can wait.
Friday, March 02, 2007
MORE FUN WITH MY NEIGHBORS
There is a battle brewing in my building surrounding the basement laundry facilities and the hours people use them. In classic Minnesota form, it's playing itself out through a series of whiney, annoyingly passive/aggressive (and anonymous) notes back and forth between aggrieved party and offending party. The landlord has even chimed-in with a note of his own reminding everyone that our lease stipulates that we all be nice to each other. Now that's leadership!
I do not think it will resolve itself anytime soon. In the spirit of playfulness I typed-up the following and posted it:
To All Tenants Concerned,
As many of you know, the young people in our neighborhood often find themselves with little to do in the way of recreation. Playgrounds are in disrepair and the area parks are overrun with nefarious characters. Alleys are narrow and ill suited to stickball and marbles. I have witnessed some young people pitching pennies against the sides of the building. While this may seem harmless enough, I consider the activity to be a "gateway" to gambling.
With wholesome activities sorely lacking and in the spirit of Christian charity I have taken it upon myself to begin operating a late-night roller disco for disadvantaged youth here in the basement common area.
It would be like "Midnight Basketball"--but instead of basketball the kids would roller skate to popular music such as, "ABBA," "A Taste Of Honey," "K.C. And The Sunshine Band," "Star Sisters" and the like. There would be soda pop and treats served. I can't help but think that it will be wildly popular.
I also imagine it could be quite LOUD.
Would this be in any way an inconvenience for anyone?
If so, please respond with a note illegibly scrawled on a piece of notebook paper and taped to the window above the dryers. This seems to be the preferred method of communication in this building.
Thanks.
My note was gone the next day.
I swear, people are no fun at all.
BDS
I do not think it will resolve itself anytime soon. In the spirit of playfulness I typed-up the following and posted it:
To All Tenants Concerned,
As many of you know, the young people in our neighborhood often find themselves with little to do in the way of recreation. Playgrounds are in disrepair and the area parks are overrun with nefarious characters. Alleys are narrow and ill suited to stickball and marbles. I have witnessed some young people pitching pennies against the sides of the building. While this may seem harmless enough, I consider the activity to be a "gateway" to gambling.
With wholesome activities sorely lacking and in the spirit of Christian charity I have taken it upon myself to begin operating a late-night roller disco for disadvantaged youth here in the basement common area.
It would be like "Midnight Basketball"--but instead of basketball the kids would roller skate to popular music such as, "ABBA," "A Taste Of Honey," "K.C. And The Sunshine Band," "Star Sisters" and the like. There would be soda pop and treats served. I can't help but think that it will be wildly popular.
I also imagine it could be quite LOUD.
Would this be in any way an inconvenience for anyone?
If so, please respond with a note illegibly scrawled on a piece of notebook paper and taped to the window above the dryers. This seems to be the preferred method of communication in this building.
Thanks.
My note was gone the next day.
I swear, people are no fun at all.
BDS
Thursday, January 11, 2007
NO MORE FUCKING TEA!
So it's been two weeks and I still haven't gotten my voice back yet. I went to the doctor again today and he put me on the Z-Pac and two different kinds of corticosteroids (methylprednisolone pills and a Flovent inhaler.)
So we'll see what Big Pharma can do with this thing.
I appreciate everyone's concern for my health and especially the innovative and wholly original home remedies that have been suggested to me time and time again:
"Have you tried hot tea with honey and lemon?"
What, you mean like hot Echinacea tea with honey and lemon? Hot peppermint tea with honey and lemon? Hot black, green, orange purple and vermillion tea with honey and lemon? Tea of every creed from sea to shining sea by the gulp and by the gallon?
Yes, I have tried hot tea with honey and lemon.
"Have you tried gargling?"
Like with salt water? Like 12 times a day for two weeks until you have exhausted an entire one pound ten ounce canister of nature's finest NaCl and-- like a sailor adrift --are so deranged from the exercise that you are convinced you can see up the yellow dress of the girl on the Morton's Salt label?
Yes, I have tried gargling.
"Have you tried throat drops?"
You mean Hall's? Robitussin? Ricola? Every imaginable variety by the bag and by the bushel until there is a callus on the back of your tongue from where the little fuckers come to rest? Until you never want to SEE another throat drop again?
Yes, I have tried throat drops.
"A humidifier?"
Yes, It's been running 24/7 for days now.
"Lots of fluids?"
Yes! Yes! Yes! Gallons!
What I'm saying is I would have tried the ejaculate of an Andean llama by now if I thought it would work. (I checked with the Chilean consulate, they say it doesn't.)
So hopefully I will have this thing licked soon, but if you see me in the next few days and my voice is still shot, please, please, PLEASE do not suggest I try hot tea with honey and lemon. In
fact, don't suggest anything. Just punch me in the mouth. I haven't tried that yet.
Your (silent) partner,
Brian David Shuey
So we'll see what Big Pharma can do with this thing.
I appreciate everyone's concern for my health and especially the innovative and wholly original home remedies that have been suggested to me time and time again:
"Have you tried hot tea with honey and lemon?"
What, you mean like hot Echinacea tea with honey and lemon? Hot peppermint tea with honey and lemon? Hot black, green, orange purple and vermillion tea with honey and lemon? Tea of every creed from sea to shining sea by the gulp and by the gallon?
Yes, I have tried hot tea with honey and lemon.
"Have you tried gargling?"
Like with salt water? Like 12 times a day for two weeks until you have exhausted an entire one pound ten ounce canister of nature's finest NaCl and-- like a sailor adrift --are so deranged from the exercise that you are convinced you can see up the yellow dress of the girl on the Morton's Salt label?
Yes, I have tried gargling.
"Have you tried throat drops?"
You mean Hall's? Robitussin? Ricola? Every imaginable variety by the bag and by the bushel until there is a callus on the back of your tongue from where the little fuckers come to rest? Until you never want to SEE another throat drop again?
Yes, I have tried throat drops.
"A humidifier?"
Yes, It's been running 24/7 for days now.
"Lots of fluids?"
Yes! Yes! Yes! Gallons!
What I'm saying is I would have tried the ejaculate of an Andean llama by now if I thought it would work. (I checked with the Chilean consulate, they say it doesn't.)
So hopefully I will have this thing licked soon, but if you see me in the next few days and my voice is still shot, please, please, PLEASE do not suggest I try hot tea with honey and lemon. In
fact, don't suggest anything. Just punch me in the mouth. I haven't tried that yet.
Your (silent) partner,
Brian David Shuey
Friday, January 05, 2007
2006 RECAP ACTION
Here's a recap of some of the many achievements, honors and awards I garnered in 2006, neatly broken down by month:
JANUARY- I came out of the gate punching-- literally. On January 11 in Tijuana I felled Super-middleweight champ Mikkel Kessler by knockout in the 10th round. But despite the promises of promoter "Gordo" Don Reyes, the bout was not WBA sanctioned and the title continues to elude me. Also, the purse of 10,000 pesos wasn't nearly as lucrative as it sounded. (About $926) I used the money to buy a 1000-ct. bottle of 10 mg Valium tablets. They turned out to be chiclets. I had to hitchhike home. I hate Mexico.
FEBRUARY- Ah, the month of love! Received gushing Valentines from the following persons of repute: Kirsten Dunst, Halle Berry, Kate Beckinsale, Kate Winslet, Kate Blanchett (That's right! The trifecta of British "Kates.") Also, Gwyneth Paltrow, Claire Danes, Michael Richards and Zooey Deschanel. Which reminds me, I have yet to write any of them back.
MARCH- Nothing ever happens to me in March.
APRIL- I was named American League Pitcher of the Month. 3W-1L /1.83 ERA/44 SO. What can I say, I was in the zone.
MAY- Crowned "King of Tulips" at the Orange City, Iowa Tulip Festival. Stripped of the crown while learning the hard way that the "King of Tulips" does not automatically have prerogative to deflower the "Queen of Tulips." Especially when she is the underage daughter of an Iowa State Trooper.
JUNE- Mistakenly received the "Apple Pie Award" for meritorious service from The Million Moms March Committee of Omaha, NE. I did not inform them of their error and in the spirit of irony used the $500 honorarium to purchase a used .38 snub-nosed revolver from out of some guy's trunk
JULY- mensis horribilis! That's a dead tongue, son! --and it does not mean I experienced a difficult menstrual period-- but rather that I endured a terrible month. ALWAYS CONSULT YOUR PHYSICIAN BEFORE ADJUSTING OR DISCONTINUING YOUR MEDICATION. Trust me on this one. My diminished condition prevented me from traveling to the Gettysburg National Military Park on the 143rd anniversary of the historic battle to receive my honors as, "Civil War Re-Enactor of the Year." Apparently my portrayal of General Pierre Gustave Toutant Beauregard is nonpareil.
AUGUST- Awarded "The Golden Twelve Pack" for my efforts in promoting "Canned Beer Month."
SEPTEMBER- Named "Employee of the Month" at the Red Lobster in Wayzata, MN. (Let's face it, not ALL secret lives are exciting ones.)
OCTOBER- Won the Mann Booker Prize for my touching memoir, "Scarf" about being a Pakistani immigrant girl coming of age in 1970’s London.
NOVEMBER- I finally won my first Latin Grammy in the category, "Cancion del Ano" (Song of the Year.) It was for my hit single, "Mi amor es mi corazón y amor para su corazón, bebé." Catchy title, no?
DECEMBER- On December 6th I was awarded the Nobel Prize in chemistry for creating sugar-free methamphetamine. I consider it the crowning achievement in an admittedly exceptional year.
Happy New Year!
BDS
JANUARY- I came out of the gate punching-- literally. On January 11 in Tijuana I felled Super-middleweight champ Mikkel Kessler by knockout in the 10th round. But despite the promises of promoter "Gordo" Don Reyes, the bout was not WBA sanctioned and the title continues to elude me. Also, the purse of 10,000 pesos wasn't nearly as lucrative as it sounded. (About $926) I used the money to buy a 1000-ct. bottle of 10 mg Valium tablets. They turned out to be chiclets. I had to hitchhike home. I hate Mexico.
FEBRUARY- Ah, the month of love! Received gushing Valentines from the following persons of repute: Kirsten Dunst, Halle Berry, Kate Beckinsale, Kate Winslet, Kate Blanchett (That's right! The trifecta of British "Kates.") Also, Gwyneth Paltrow, Claire Danes, Michael Richards and Zooey Deschanel. Which reminds me, I have yet to write any of them back.
MARCH- Nothing ever happens to me in March.
APRIL- I was named American League Pitcher of the Month. 3W-1L /1.83 ERA/44 SO. What can I say, I was in the zone.
MAY- Crowned "King of Tulips" at the Orange City, Iowa Tulip Festival. Stripped of the crown while learning the hard way that the "King of Tulips" does not automatically have prerogative to deflower the "Queen of Tulips." Especially when she is the underage daughter of an Iowa State Trooper.
JUNE- Mistakenly received the "Apple Pie Award" for meritorious service from The Million Moms March Committee of Omaha, NE. I did not inform them of their error and in the spirit of irony used the $500 honorarium to purchase a used .38 snub-nosed revolver from out of some guy's trunk
JULY- mensis horribilis! That's a dead tongue, son! --and it does not mean I experienced a difficult menstrual period-- but rather that I endured a terrible month. ALWAYS CONSULT YOUR PHYSICIAN BEFORE ADJUSTING OR DISCONTINUING YOUR MEDICATION. Trust me on this one. My diminished condition prevented me from traveling to the Gettysburg National Military Park on the 143rd anniversary of the historic battle to receive my honors as, "Civil War Re-Enactor of the Year." Apparently my portrayal of General Pierre Gustave Toutant Beauregard is nonpareil.
AUGUST- Awarded "The Golden Twelve Pack" for my efforts in promoting "Canned Beer Month."
SEPTEMBER- Named "Employee of the Month" at the Red Lobster in Wayzata, MN. (Let's face it, not ALL secret lives are exciting ones.)
OCTOBER- Won the Mann Booker Prize for my touching memoir, "Scarf" about being a Pakistani immigrant girl coming of age in 1970’s London.
NOVEMBER- I finally won my first Latin Grammy in the category, "Cancion del Ano" (Song of the Year.) It was for my hit single, "Mi amor es mi corazón y amor para su corazón, bebé." Catchy title, no?
DECEMBER- On December 6th I was awarded the Nobel Prize in chemistry for creating sugar-free methamphetamine. I consider it the crowning achievement in an admittedly exceptional year.
Happy New Year!
BDS
Thursday, December 14, 2006
MY SURE-FIRE MIRACLE CURE FOR THE COMMON COLD
The common cold-- Group: IV ((+) ssRNA) Family: Picornaviridae. Genus: Rhinovirus.
Scourge of man.
Until now a truly effective treatment has eluded modern medical science. Until now…
I offer the following miracle cure free of charge for the betterment of humankind:
-Lock your door.
-Dim the lights.
-Take four (4) Sudafed.
-Take 800 mg of your favorite analgesic.
-Drink screwdrivers until you have exhausted your supply of orange juice.
-Switch to gin and tonic
-Drink gin and tonic until you have exhausted your supply of tonic water.
-Drink whatever that last beer in the back of the refrigerator is. Do not attempt to figure out how it got there.
-Brew a strong cup of Echinacea tea. Add one ounce of Scotch whiskey. Drink as fast as possible. (This will burn going down.)
-Put on some music. Something slightly bizarre. Brian Eno, CAN, Captain Beefheart, maybe King Crimson. DO NOT, I repeat, DO NOT play the Velvet Underground. If you do all will be for naught.
-Get into bed. You should be naked save only for a ski cap. Preferably a vintage 1970’s NFL one (One of the “tough” teams: Steelers, Packers, Raiders… a Dolphins or Saints hat will not cut it.)
You will be shaking and sweating profusely by now. This is good. The cold is trying to flee your body in the hope of inhabiting the nearest sane person. Open a window or door a crack to allow the cold to transpose itself to the next unsuspecting passerby.
-You are now cured. Enjoy a restful night’s sleep.
Yours in good health,
Brian David Shuey
Note: You may experience vomiting and abdominal cramping the following morning. This is perfectly normal.
Scourge of man.
Until now a truly effective treatment has eluded modern medical science. Until now…
I offer the following miracle cure free of charge for the betterment of humankind:
-Lock your door.
-Dim the lights.
-Take four (4) Sudafed.
-Take 800 mg of your favorite analgesic.
-Drink screwdrivers until you have exhausted your supply of orange juice.
-Switch to gin and tonic
-Drink gin and tonic until you have exhausted your supply of tonic water.
-Drink whatever that last beer in the back of the refrigerator is. Do not attempt to figure out how it got there.
-Brew a strong cup of Echinacea tea. Add one ounce of Scotch whiskey. Drink as fast as possible. (This will burn going down.)
-Put on some music. Something slightly bizarre. Brian Eno, CAN, Captain Beefheart, maybe King Crimson. DO NOT, I repeat, DO NOT play the Velvet Underground. If you do all will be for naught.
-Get into bed. You should be naked save only for a ski cap. Preferably a vintage 1970’s NFL one (One of the “tough” teams: Steelers, Packers, Raiders… a Dolphins or Saints hat will not cut it.)
You will be shaking and sweating profusely by now. This is good. The cold is trying to flee your body in the hope of inhabiting the nearest sane person. Open a window or door a crack to allow the cold to transpose itself to the next unsuspecting passerby.
-You are now cured. Enjoy a restful night’s sleep.
Yours in good health,
Brian David Shuey
Note: You may experience vomiting and abdominal cramping the following morning. This is perfectly normal.
Friday, December 01, 2006
BRIAN SHUEY STREET TEAM: WINTER UPDATE
Dear B.S.S.T Members,
I suppose the polite thing to do would be to pretend I was pleased with your performance. And not, as the case will be, call some of you on the carpet publicly. But the fact is this may be the sorriest excuse for a street team ever assembled.
I have some bad news for the following members:
Chris L. from PHOENIX, AZ: I have recently been in contact with the City of Phoenix Chamber of Commerce. Not a soul I spoke to recognized my name. You have had three months now to spread the word about me in that sun-baked hell hole you call home and yet the city fathers still have no idea who I am. MEMBERSHIP: TERMINATED
Steve P. from HARRISBURG, PA: It's Harrisburg, Steve! I GREW UP THERE! Yet, a Lexus-Nexus search of central Pennsylvania publications found no mention of me in the last six months. However that other Brian Shuey-- "renowned" Sprint Car racer and presumed cousin-fucking hillbilly-- received twelve notices. I SHALL NOT PLAY SECOND FIDDLE to some Skoal-chomping dirt track circling Carbona-huffing car monkey! MEMBERSHIP: TERMINATED
Susan R. from MEMPHIS, TN: Susan, the pictures you sent helped your cause a great deal. I was particularly keen on the one of you roller-skating in pigtails with the giant lollypop. That said, I am going to need to see some actual work product from you if I am to continue to keep you on the team. MEMBERSHIP: UNDER REVIEW
Anthony K. from BILLINGS, MT: The news that the local Kiwanis Club is considering erecting a statue of me to honor my many good works is the one bright spot in this otherwise dismal clusterfuck of incompetence. However, I must remind you that the $25 check towards your membership fee has bounced... again. Please attend to this promptly. MEMBERSHIP: SUSPENDED PENDING APPROPRIATE REMUNERATIONS
I will spare the rest of you the embarrassment reserved for those listed above. Suffice it to say, you're all on notice. And by the way, I'm still cleaning my own toilet. Unacceptable!
Your Fearless Leader,
Brian David Shuey
I suppose the polite thing to do would be to pretend I was pleased with your performance. And not, as the case will be, call some of you on the carpet publicly. But the fact is this may be the sorriest excuse for a street team ever assembled.
I have some bad news for the following members:
Chris L. from PHOENIX, AZ: I have recently been in contact with the City of Phoenix Chamber of Commerce. Not a soul I spoke to recognized my name. You have had three months now to spread the word about me in that sun-baked hell hole you call home and yet the city fathers still have no idea who I am. MEMBERSHIP: TERMINATED
Steve P. from HARRISBURG, PA: It's Harrisburg, Steve! I GREW UP THERE! Yet, a Lexus-Nexus search of central Pennsylvania publications found no mention of me in the last six months. However that other Brian Shuey-- "renowned" Sprint Car racer and presumed cousin-fucking hillbilly-- received twelve notices. I SHALL NOT PLAY SECOND FIDDLE to some Skoal-chomping dirt track circling Carbona-huffing car monkey! MEMBERSHIP: TERMINATED
Susan R. from MEMPHIS, TN: Susan, the pictures you sent helped your cause a great deal. I was particularly keen on the one of you roller-skating in pigtails with the giant lollypop. That said, I am going to need to see some actual work product from you if I am to continue to keep you on the team. MEMBERSHIP: UNDER REVIEW
Anthony K. from BILLINGS, MT: The news that the local Kiwanis Club is considering erecting a statue of me to honor my many good works is the one bright spot in this otherwise dismal clusterfuck of incompetence. However, I must remind you that the $25 check towards your membership fee has bounced... again. Please attend to this promptly. MEMBERSHIP: SUSPENDED PENDING APPROPRIATE REMUNERATIONS
I will spare the rest of you the embarrassment reserved for those listed above. Suffice it to say, you're all on notice. And by the way, I'm still cleaning my own toilet. Unacceptable!
Your Fearless Leader,
Brian David Shuey
Tuesday, November 21, 2006
33 THINGS ABOUT MYSELF AND THE WORLD AROUND ME
Today is my thirty-third birthday. In honor of that, here are, “33 Things About Myself and The Word Around Me!” by Brian David Shuey. Enjoy.
-”Scrubbing Bubbles” really do. Everything else in this life is a lie.
-As long as you are relatively healthy there is no point in regretting anything. If you had made different choices you might be so overwhelmingly satisfied with your life that you’ll stroll blissfully into the street and completely miss the #4 Bus that is headed straight for you. Think about it.
-I sometimes think going deaf wouldn’t be such a bad thing if it meant never having to overhear another stultifying dull conversation.
-You can write a screenplay about undead samurai racecar drivers who like to solve complex mathematical problems in their spare time, but don’t expect anyone to want to make a movie out of it.
-If you find yourself at a party and you absolutely have to fart, go stand next to the fattest person in the room. Everyone will assume they did it.
-The Clash selling Jaguars? Ramones selling phones? Both were hard to take, but to see The Muppets whoring themselves out for Pizza Hut was more than I could bear.
-Mechanical pencils are bullshit and should be thrown away.
-Take the Kerry-Edwards stickers off your cars. You backed a bum horse. You don't have to be proud of it.
-On a similar note, I was briefly connected with "Patty Wetterling for Congress.” The day after she lost the election I dropped her like a stone. I don't associate with losers.
-It is a well-known fact that I walk much faster than the average person. Sometimes when I am passing people on crutches, in wheelchairs or those who are otherwise infirm I secretly fear that they think I am "showing off." As a result I tend to slow my pace. I don't think this really benefits either party. Still, I can't help doing it.
-Don’t loan me books. I’m real hard on them.
-There are maybe a dozen people in the world at any given time who are doing worthwhile “installation art.” The rest of you hacks need to knock it off already.
- I miss cassette tapes. I really miss TDK-SA90s and Maxell XLIIS 90's. You could beat the shit out of those Maxell’s and they would always play. No one can convince me that any recording could sound better than an LP dubbed at a slightly elevated recording level and played back on a well-maintained mid-1980's Alpine car tape deck. At least I've never heard music sound better. (Note: Dolby NR is for sissies.)
-When an individual employs the phrase, "We'll see you later." It makes me think the that person is mentally unbalanced.
-Chicks love T-Rex.
-It’s clear I don‘t know much about British “sport” when I read a headline like, “Uncapped Joyce Wins Ashes Call-up.” What could that possibly mean?
-I once had a friend confess to me that he was taking “hip-hop” dance lessons. We are not friends anymore.
-I am very active in the M.W.C.O.T.A.P.O. community. In fact, I am its only member since I have never shared with anyone the true meaning of the acronym. But trust me, we’re a very kinky crowd.
-I was born at the following map coordinates: 40.240ºN by 76.920ºW. To this day nothing green will grow there and children whisper as they pass.
-Despite conventional wisdom on the subject I do in fact have one tattoo. It is on the bottom of my right foot and it records the results of two track and field events (long jump/ 100-yard dash) I participated in at the Linglestown Elementary School May Fair in the spring of 1981: I placed FIRST in both. I fear this will go down as the most successful day of my life. At least in terms of “ribbons won.”
-I’ve been told on more than one occasion I have excellent taste in women’s jewelry. I don’t know what to make of that.
-To all prostitutes in the Whittier neighborhood: Please continue to use the front stoop of my building to ply your trade. I plan on using your activities as leverage should my landlord try to increase the rent.
-I have a PlayStation II-- but only one video game for it. It’s a game where you kill Nazis. I enjoy it immensely.
-I have two African violets. One is named, “Jeeves,” the other I call “Wooster” or “Bertie.” Of all the uncool things about me this may be the uncoolest
-It’s time to reevaluate the word, “cool.” I recently overheard an elderly lady in a sweater with a gigantic owl embroidered on its front remark to her companion, “That sure was cool!” To which the second lady—of similar vintage and equally questionable taste in fashion replied, “You betcha’ it was cool!” I have no idea to what they were referring, but if whatever it was was cool then “cool” just ain’t cool anymore.
-The mere act of walking into an office supply store fills me with the overwhelming desire to start my own business. Luckily, the feeling fades quickly.
-To all recent immigrants to the United States: Welcome! I’m excited to have you here and I hope things go well for you. I ask only one favor, please try to remember that there is no haggling in America! Sears is not a suq. Marshall’s is not a Mercado. That laundry soap is $6.99 and no amount of gesticulating on your part is ever going to change that. The people behind you in line have other stuff to do today. Again, welcome and good luck.
-I have never understood why loose-leaf chewing tobacco is offered for sale at convenience stores in major metropolitan areas. It’s the city. Who’s buying this stuff?
-Why is it the first thing some dolt says when they spill something on me is, “I’m so sorry, I’ll pay for the dry cleaning.” As if anyone has t-shirts and jeans dry cleaned. Just to throw them I’m going to start demanding $2 in quarters for the coin-op. Clumsy fuckers.
- Anything NOT written in black ink will be considered invalid.
-Why does the weather take ten minutes? Does anyone really need to be told for the one millionth time what happens when a warm, moist air mass meets a dry, cool air mass along a frontal boundary? I don’t need another primer in meteorology. Just tell me if it’s going to rain, man.
-I am fairly certain I have peed in every natural body of water I have ever swam in.
-This is #33. I’m going to have a beer now, okay?
-”Scrubbing Bubbles” really do. Everything else in this life is a lie.
-As long as you are relatively healthy there is no point in regretting anything. If you had made different choices you might be so overwhelmingly satisfied with your life that you’ll stroll blissfully into the street and completely miss the #4 Bus that is headed straight for you. Think about it.
-I sometimes think going deaf wouldn’t be such a bad thing if it meant never having to overhear another stultifying dull conversation.
-You can write a screenplay about undead samurai racecar drivers who like to solve complex mathematical problems in their spare time, but don’t expect anyone to want to make a movie out of it.
-If you find yourself at a party and you absolutely have to fart, go stand next to the fattest person in the room. Everyone will assume they did it.
-The Clash selling Jaguars? Ramones selling phones? Both were hard to take, but to see The Muppets whoring themselves out for Pizza Hut was more than I could bear.
-Mechanical pencils are bullshit and should be thrown away.
-Take the Kerry-Edwards stickers off your cars. You backed a bum horse. You don't have to be proud of it.
-On a similar note, I was briefly connected with "Patty Wetterling for Congress.” The day after she lost the election I dropped her like a stone. I don't associate with losers.
-It is a well-known fact that I walk much faster than the average person. Sometimes when I am passing people on crutches, in wheelchairs or those who are otherwise infirm I secretly fear that they think I am "showing off." As a result I tend to slow my pace. I don't think this really benefits either party. Still, I can't help doing it.
-Don’t loan me books. I’m real hard on them.
-There are maybe a dozen people in the world at any given time who are doing worthwhile “installation art.” The rest of you hacks need to knock it off already.
- I miss cassette tapes. I really miss TDK-SA90s and Maxell XLIIS 90's. You could beat the shit out of those Maxell’s and they would always play. No one can convince me that any recording could sound better than an LP dubbed at a slightly elevated recording level and played back on a well-maintained mid-1980's Alpine car tape deck. At least I've never heard music sound better. (Note: Dolby NR is for sissies.)
-When an individual employs the phrase, "We'll see you later." It makes me think the that person is mentally unbalanced.
-Chicks love T-Rex.
-It’s clear I don‘t know much about British “sport” when I read a headline like, “Uncapped Joyce Wins Ashes Call-up.” What could that possibly mean?
-I once had a friend confess to me that he was taking “hip-hop” dance lessons. We are not friends anymore.
-I am very active in the M.W.C.O.T.A.P.O. community. In fact, I am its only member since I have never shared with anyone the true meaning of the acronym. But trust me, we’re a very kinky crowd.
-I was born at the following map coordinates: 40.240ºN by 76.920ºW. To this day nothing green will grow there and children whisper as they pass.
-Despite conventional wisdom on the subject I do in fact have one tattoo. It is on the bottom of my right foot and it records the results of two track and field events (long jump/ 100-yard dash) I participated in at the Linglestown Elementary School May Fair in the spring of 1981: I placed FIRST in both. I fear this will go down as the most successful day of my life. At least in terms of “ribbons won.”
-I’ve been told on more than one occasion I have excellent taste in women’s jewelry. I don’t know what to make of that.
-To all prostitutes in the Whittier neighborhood: Please continue to use the front stoop of my building to ply your trade. I plan on using your activities as leverage should my landlord try to increase the rent.
-I have a PlayStation II-- but only one video game for it. It’s a game where you kill Nazis. I enjoy it immensely.
-I have two African violets. One is named, “Jeeves,” the other I call “Wooster” or “Bertie.” Of all the uncool things about me this may be the uncoolest
-It’s time to reevaluate the word, “cool.” I recently overheard an elderly lady in a sweater with a gigantic owl embroidered on its front remark to her companion, “That sure was cool!” To which the second lady—of similar vintage and equally questionable taste in fashion replied, “You betcha’ it was cool!” I have no idea to what they were referring, but if whatever it was was cool then “cool” just ain’t cool anymore.
-The mere act of walking into an office supply store fills me with the overwhelming desire to start my own business. Luckily, the feeling fades quickly.
-To all recent immigrants to the United States: Welcome! I’m excited to have you here and I hope things go well for you. I ask only one favor, please try to remember that there is no haggling in America! Sears is not a suq. Marshall’s is not a Mercado. That laundry soap is $6.99 and no amount of gesticulating on your part is ever going to change that. The people behind you in line have other stuff to do today. Again, welcome and good luck.
-I have never understood why loose-leaf chewing tobacco is offered for sale at convenience stores in major metropolitan areas. It’s the city. Who’s buying this stuff?
-Why is it the first thing some dolt says when they spill something on me is, “I’m so sorry, I’ll pay for the dry cleaning.” As if anyone has t-shirts and jeans dry cleaned. Just to throw them I’m going to start demanding $2 in quarters for the coin-op. Clumsy fuckers.
- Anything NOT written in black ink will be considered invalid.
-Why does the weather take ten minutes? Does anyone really need to be told for the one millionth time what happens when a warm, moist air mass meets a dry, cool air mass along a frontal boundary? I don’t need another primer in meteorology. Just tell me if it’s going to rain, man.
-I am fairly certain I have peed in every natural body of water I have ever swam in.
-This is #33. I’m going to have a beer now, okay?
Friday, October 20, 2006
"A FOOL FOR CHRIST" MY INTERVIEW WITH MICHELE BACHMANN
What follows is a transcript of a telephone interview I conducted with Minnesota State Representative Michele Bachmann, Republican candidate for the U.S. Congress.
BDS: Good afternoon Representative Bachmann, I appreciate your taking the time to speak with me.
MB: GRENN TOOOLK BREEG! NEEEEE! POOT TAMAHK!
BDS: I'm sorry, Mrs. Bachmann. I think there may be a problem with our connection...
MB: BLLEECHK! OOGLE! BLEECK DOOF!
BDS: Mrs. Bachmann?
(muffled noises, a male voice takes over)
MV: I apologize, Mr. Shuey. The Candidate is speaking in tongues again.
BDS: Does she do this often?
MV: Only when Our Lord and Savior is communicating through her.
BDS: Wait, that was Jesus? I thought it was Klingon.
MV: They're actually quite similar.
BDS: So, for the uninitiated, what was it Jesus was saying?
MV: He was just reaffirming his endorsement for Representative Bachmann's candidacy.
BDS: So Jesus is firmly in your camp?
MV: And where else would he be? With Wetterling?
BDS: Well, it's just that I've never really heard of him taking sides before.
MV: Oh, He does. And by the way, when you write "Him," it is properly capitalized.
BDS: Hold on, how did you know I didn't?
MV: Let's just say I know your type.
BDS: Fair enough. So you've got Jesus. Any other big names on board?
MV: Bigger names than Jesus?
BDS: Well, it's just that I've heard Patty Wetterling has Jessica Lange and Sam Shepard behind
her. Maybe Josh Hartnett, too.
MV: They're lightweights! Jesus had the biggest movie in the world two years ago.
BDS: Yeah, two years ago. You know what they say in Hollywood, "What have you done for me lately?"
MV: She's got the First Lady.
BDS: Ha! Laura Bush doesn't put asses in seats. Everyone knows that. I saw her at a Border's Books one time. You could hear crickets.
MV: Listen, the Candidate is confident that The Lord's backing will be enough.
BDS: And how exactly did Mrs. Bachmann secure the Lord's endorsement?
MV: The Candidate and her family joined hands, fasted and prayed for three days.
BDS: So, it was like Martin Luther King kind of thing?
MV: No, he was a Southern Baptist. The candidate and her family attend a very different sort of church.
BDS: Oh, that's right. So, what exactly does a "wealthy suburban mega-church fast" entail?
MV: (long pause)
BDS: Sir?
MV: Mostly imported bottled water and bread from the bakery at Byerly's.
BDS: Wow! It's a miracle they even survived!
MV: I assure you, adjusted for the Bachmann's level of income and ethnic background, it can be quite a transcendental experience of one's faith.
BDS: I'm sure it can! I skipped breakfast one time and had a vision of St. Bernadine of Siena telling me I should be Governor of West Virginia!
MV: Now you're just being smug. It's the arrogance of the godless liberal elite like you that the people of Minnesota will send Representative Bachmann to Washington to combat.
BDS: Elite? I had to crawl over a drunken prostitute just to get into my apartment building this morning. Mrs. Bachmann is a rich-as-shit tax attorney. She lives in a huge house in Stillwater. And suddenly I'm elite? How, precisely does that work?
MV: Wait a moment. You mean to say you're poor?
BDS: Well, I'm not exactly...
MV: Listen, the Candidate doesn't waste time on people who can't even find their own bootstraps. Call back when you've made something of yourself. (click)
BDS: Hello? Hello?
BDS: Good afternoon Representative Bachmann, I appreciate your taking the time to speak with me.
MB: GRENN TOOOLK BREEG! NEEEEE! POOT TAMAHK!
BDS: I'm sorry, Mrs. Bachmann. I think there may be a problem with our connection...
MB: BLLEECHK! OOGLE! BLEECK DOOF!
BDS: Mrs. Bachmann?
(muffled noises, a male voice takes over)
MV: I apologize, Mr. Shuey. The Candidate is speaking in tongues again.
BDS: Does she do this often?
MV: Only when Our Lord and Savior is communicating through her.
BDS: Wait, that was Jesus? I thought it was Klingon.
MV: They're actually quite similar.
BDS: So, for the uninitiated, what was it Jesus was saying?
MV: He was just reaffirming his endorsement for Representative Bachmann's candidacy.
BDS: So Jesus is firmly in your camp?
MV: And where else would he be? With Wetterling?
BDS: Well, it's just that I've never really heard of him taking sides before.
MV: Oh, He does. And by the way, when you write "Him," it is properly capitalized.
BDS: Hold on, how did you know I didn't?
MV: Let's just say I know your type.
BDS: Fair enough. So you've got Jesus. Any other big names on board?
MV: Bigger names than Jesus?
BDS: Well, it's just that I've heard Patty Wetterling has Jessica Lange and Sam Shepard behind
her. Maybe Josh Hartnett, too.
MV: They're lightweights! Jesus had the biggest movie in the world two years ago.
BDS: Yeah, two years ago. You know what they say in Hollywood, "What have you done for me lately?"
MV: She's got the First Lady.
BDS: Ha! Laura Bush doesn't put asses in seats. Everyone knows that. I saw her at a Border's Books one time. You could hear crickets.
MV: Listen, the Candidate is confident that The Lord's backing will be enough.
BDS: And how exactly did Mrs. Bachmann secure the Lord's endorsement?
MV: The Candidate and her family joined hands, fasted and prayed for three days.
BDS: So, it was like Martin Luther King kind of thing?
MV: No, he was a Southern Baptist. The candidate and her family attend a very different sort of church.
BDS: Oh, that's right. So, what exactly does a "wealthy suburban mega-church fast" entail?
MV: (long pause)
BDS: Sir?
MV: Mostly imported bottled water and bread from the bakery at Byerly's.
BDS: Wow! It's a miracle they even survived!
MV: I assure you, adjusted for the Bachmann's level of income and ethnic background, it can be quite a transcendental experience of one's faith.
BDS: I'm sure it can! I skipped breakfast one time and had a vision of St. Bernadine of Siena telling me I should be Governor of West Virginia!
MV: Now you're just being smug. It's the arrogance of the godless liberal elite like you that the people of Minnesota will send Representative Bachmann to Washington to combat.
BDS: Elite? I had to crawl over a drunken prostitute just to get into my apartment building this morning. Mrs. Bachmann is a rich-as-shit tax attorney. She lives in a huge house in Stillwater. And suddenly I'm elite? How, precisely does that work?
MV: Wait a moment. You mean to say you're poor?
BDS: Well, I'm not exactly...
MV: Listen, the Candidate doesn't waste time on people who can't even find their own bootstraps. Call back when you've made something of yourself. (click)
BDS: Hello? Hello?
Friday, October 06, 2006
MY i.m. EXCHANGE WITH REP. MARK FOLEY
What follows is an instant message discussion I had over the internet with an individual claiming to be Rep. Mark Foley of Florida. As the text will clearly demonstrate, this person was obviously an imposter. BDS
Maf54 (7:37:27 PM): how my favorite young stud doing
Shu22 (7:38:01 PM) Good, I guess. I certainly don't FEEL young. I'm a little sore. I was playing racquetball today.
Maf54 (7:39:32 PM): you need a massage
Shu22: (7:41:03 PM) Actually, that might be just the thing.
Maf54 (7:47:11 PM): good so your getting horny
Shu22: (7:48:16PM) Umm... not really. But one time I did have a sort of embarrassing moment at the masseuse. Luckily I didn't have to turn over right away!
Maf54 (7:55:02 PM): completely naked?
Shu22: (7:55:32 PM) I was wearing a towel.
Maf54 (7:55:51 PM): cute butt bouncing in the air
Shu22: (7:58:09 PM) No, I was pretty much flat on my stomach the whole time. So anyway, what's Florida like this time of year?
Maf54 (8:00:53 PM): i like steamroom
Shu22: (8:01:11 PM) Yeah, I suppose it is pretty hot down there.
Maf54 (8:01:21 PM): i am hard as a rock..so tell me when your reaches rock
Shu22 (8:04:24 PM) When my what "reaches rock?" I'm not really following you. I must say, for a Congressman you seem to have, at best, a tenuous grasp on the English language. Are all members of the House of Representatives so loose with their grammar?
Maf54 (8:08:31 PM): get a ruler and measure it for me
Shu22: (8:09:14 PM) Measure what? The distance it would take me to "reach rock?"
Maf54 (8:10:40 PM): take it out
Shu22 (8:10:54 PM): Take WHAT out, the rock? I'm telling you I don't have any rocks with me. You're making no sense at all. I thought we were going to discuss healthcare reform.
Maf54 (8:11:06 PM): ok
Shu22 (8:14:02 PM): Fine. So, would you say the Republican-led Congress has made any progress on reforming a healthcare system that 72 percent of Americans say is broken?
Maf54 (8:14:37 PM): i like steamroom
Shu22: (8:22:17 PM) You know what? I don't think you're Rep. Mark Foley (R-FL) at all. I think you're just some weird Internet pervert. This discussion is over!
Maf54 (8:47:11 PM): good so your getting horny
Maf54 (7:37:27 PM): how my favorite young stud doing
Shu22 (7:38:01 PM) Good, I guess. I certainly don't FEEL young. I'm a little sore. I was playing racquetball today.
Maf54 (7:39:32 PM): you need a massage
Shu22: (7:41:03 PM) Actually, that might be just the thing.
Maf54 (7:47:11 PM): good so your getting horny
Shu22: (7:48:16PM) Umm... not really. But one time I did have a sort of embarrassing moment at the masseuse. Luckily I didn't have to turn over right away!
Maf54 (7:55:02 PM): completely naked?
Shu22: (7:55:32 PM) I was wearing a towel.
Maf54 (7:55:51 PM): cute butt bouncing in the air
Shu22: (7:58:09 PM) No, I was pretty much flat on my stomach the whole time. So anyway, what's Florida like this time of year?
Maf54 (8:00:53 PM): i like steamroom
Shu22: (8:01:11 PM) Yeah, I suppose it is pretty hot down there.
Maf54 (8:01:21 PM): i am hard as a rock..so tell me when your reaches rock
Shu22 (8:04:24 PM) When my what "reaches rock?" I'm not really following you. I must say, for a Congressman you seem to have, at best, a tenuous grasp on the English language. Are all members of the House of Representatives so loose with their grammar?
Maf54 (8:08:31 PM): get a ruler and measure it for me
Shu22: (8:09:14 PM) Measure what? The distance it would take me to "reach rock?"
Maf54 (8:10:40 PM): take it out
Shu22 (8:10:54 PM): Take WHAT out, the rock? I'm telling you I don't have any rocks with me. You're making no sense at all. I thought we were going to discuss healthcare reform.
Maf54 (8:11:06 PM): ok
Shu22 (8:14:02 PM): Fine. So, would you say the Republican-led Congress has made any progress on reforming a healthcare system that 72 percent of Americans say is broken?
Maf54 (8:14:37 PM): i like steamroom
Shu22: (8:22:17 PM) You know what? I don't think you're Rep. Mark Foley (R-FL) at all. I think you're just some weird Internet pervert. This discussion is over!
Maf54 (8:47:11 PM): good so your getting horny
Friday, September 29, 2006
A TERRIBLE SECRET REVEALED! : THE POD WOMEN OF TARGET CORPORATION
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
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
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?
Thursday, August 31, 2006
JOIN THE "BRIAN SHUEY STREET TEAM"
(8.25.06)
So I've decided to assemble a street team to get the word out about me. I've noticed that rock bands, skateboard companies and even major corporations have had a great deal of success with this somewhat novel marketing concept. And since I'm too lazy to go out and promote myself, this seemed like the only way to go.
STREET TEAM MEMBER BENEFITS INCLUDE:
FREE ADMISSION TO ALL BRIAN SHUEY EVENTS: These happen throughout the year. The next big one is, "Fall House Cleaning 2006" This will take place at my apartment and Street Team Members will get the exclusive right to participate. Just a few of the fun activities...
-"What's that under the dresser?"
-"Mop Race Rally!"
-"Scavenger Hunt:" (or) "Lets find out where Brian stored his goddamn fucking winter hat/scarf/gloves so he doesnt have to buy all new ones like he does every year."
FREE BRIAN SHUEY MERCHANDISE: This is pretty much limited to things I have but don't want anymore. Ill-fitting clothes, old Econ textbooks that I've been inexplicably carting around with me since college, a VHS copy of "Blade Runner" taped off of TBS in 1988 with (most of) the commercials cut out, and rubber bands. Lots of rubber bands.
FREE SUBSCRIPTION TO THE BRIAN SHUEY NEWSLETTER! A glossy, twice-monthly publication to keep everyone updated on my many exciting activities. (Note: Production of the Brian Shuey Newsletter-- including all costs incurred-- shall be the responsibility of Street Team Members.)
For all these GREAT BENEFITS, you will simply be asked to:
-Tell your friends about BRIAN SHUEY and his many fine qualities.
-Call radio stations and encourage the hosts to talk about BRIAN SHUEY-- regardless of the topic at hand and ignoring the fact that no one knows who I am. This is how "buzz" is generated.
-Attend public events and distribute BRIAN SHUEY-related promotional materials. Buttons, stickers, t-shirts, etc. (Note: production of BRIAN SHUEY-related promotional materials-- including all costs incurred-- shall be the responsibility of Street Team Members.)
It's that easy!
So join the fun and help spread the word!
All the best,
Brian Shuey
(Note: Street Team Members will be issued pagers and will be required to be "on-call" 24 hours a day, seven days a week.)
So I've decided to assemble a street team to get the word out about me. I've noticed that rock bands, skateboard companies and even major corporations have had a great deal of success with this somewhat novel marketing concept. And since I'm too lazy to go out and promote myself, this seemed like the only way to go.
STREET TEAM MEMBER BENEFITS INCLUDE:
FREE ADMISSION TO ALL BRIAN SHUEY EVENTS: These happen throughout the year. The next big one is, "Fall House Cleaning 2006" This will take place at my apartment and Street Team Members will get the exclusive right to participate. Just a few of the fun activities...
-"What's that under the dresser?"
-"Mop Race Rally!"
-"Scavenger Hunt:" (or) "Lets find out where Brian stored his goddamn fucking winter hat/scarf/gloves so he doesnt have to buy all new ones like he does every year."
FREE BRIAN SHUEY MERCHANDISE: This is pretty much limited to things I have but don't want anymore. Ill-fitting clothes, old Econ textbooks that I've been inexplicably carting around with me since college, a VHS copy of "Blade Runner" taped off of TBS in 1988 with (most of) the commercials cut out, and rubber bands. Lots of rubber bands.
FREE SUBSCRIPTION TO THE BRIAN SHUEY NEWSLETTER! A glossy, twice-monthly publication to keep everyone updated on my many exciting activities. (Note: Production of the Brian Shuey Newsletter-- including all costs incurred-- shall be the responsibility of Street Team Members.)
For all these GREAT BENEFITS, you will simply be asked to:
-Tell your friends about BRIAN SHUEY and his many fine qualities.
-Call radio stations and encourage the hosts to talk about BRIAN SHUEY-- regardless of the topic at hand and ignoring the fact that no one knows who I am. This is how "buzz" is generated.
-Attend public events and distribute BRIAN SHUEY-related promotional materials. Buttons, stickers, t-shirts, etc. (Note: production of BRIAN SHUEY-related promotional materials-- including all costs incurred-- shall be the responsibility of Street Team Members.)
It's that easy!
So join the fun and help spread the word!
All the best,
Brian Shuey
(Note: Street Team Members will be issued pagers and will be required to be "on-call" 24 hours a day, seven days a week.)
THE BEST JOKE ABOUT A HORSE I'VE WRITTEN TODAY
A horse walks into a bar...
Bartender: "Hey buddy, why the long face?"
Horse: "Well, I'm a member of the genus Equus. Equus caballus, to be exact. We're part of a larger group of odd-toed ungulate mammals. The face is an adaptation developed over millions of years. Zoologists theorize that it is intended to facilitate grazing on short plains grasses."
Bartender: "Really? You don't say? Well, what'll it be?"
Horse: "I'd love a carrot... If you've got any?"
Bartender: "Sure thing, pal. Coming right up!"
Bartender: "Hey buddy, why the long face?"
Horse: "Well, I'm a member of the genus Equus. Equus caballus, to be exact. We're part of a larger group of odd-toed ungulate mammals. The face is an adaptation developed over millions of years. Zoologists theorize that it is intended to facilitate grazing on short plains grasses."
Bartender: "Really? You don't say? Well, what'll it be?"
Horse: "I'd love a carrot... If you've got any?"
Bartender: "Sure thing, pal. Coming right up!"
MY INTERVIEW WITH GEORGE W. BUSH (PT. 1)
(8.16.06)
Note: What follows is an interview I conducted with President Bush in the west wing of the White House in mid-August of 2006. BDS
BDS: Good afternoon, Mr. President. Thank you for taking the time to meet with me.
GWB: Call me George. No wait, call me "Thumper." That's what they called me in school. You wanna know why?
BDS: I suppose I could guess.
GWB: Wait, this is "on the record," right? That's the one where you can print whatever I say?
BDS: It is.
GWB: Better go with "George," then. Or, "President George."
BDS: How about just, "Mr. President."
GWB: That'll do 'er!
BDS: Now then, Mr. President. You're half-way through your second term, how would you say things are going?
GWB: I'll tell you Brian, things are going GREAT! We got a new motto here at the White House, "Moving Forward." Things are really moving forward right now. Forward momentum. Like a rocket to the moon.
BDS: Or Mars.
GWB: What?
BDS: You may recall, you announced an initiative to realize the dream of manned exploration of the planet Mars.
GWB: I did?
BDS: Yes, some time ago.
GWB: And how's that going?
BDS: Well, we're not there yet, sir.
GWB: Hmm, guess I better kick a few butts over at NASA. Get 'em "Moving Forward," eh? (chuckles)
BDS: Yes, I'm beginning to see the wisdom of your new approach.
GWB: You know where I got it from, don't ya? From, "Shark Week." You know, on The Discovery Channel. That's Channel 58 on satellite here in D.C. But it's something different down in Crawford. I wish they could do something about that. Every time I go down there I have to flip around forever to figure out which one is The Discovery Channel. And then, when I find it as soon as I change the channel I forget and I can't get back to it without doing the whole dang thing over again. ESPN's the same in both places. It's 32. I don't know why, though.
BDS: So, um... back to Shark Week?
GWB: Oh yeah. So I learned on Shark Week that sharks have to keep moving forward in the water or they'll die.
(In the background:) Aide #1: Except for Nurse sharks, of course.
GWB: What?
Aide #2: Never mind. Its just an "I.F.," sir.
BDS: "I.F.?"
Aide #2: "Inconvenient Fact." They impede forward momentum. They are contra to the President's paradigm. The paradigm requires that the President ignore them. They are dealt with by people like me.
(Aide #1 is led from the room. Door closes. Some muffled noises on the other side.)
GWB: Yeah, so anyway it's something about the air in the water. And I just thought that was really neat and then I thought it would be a heckuva motto for my administration. Now I got pictures of sharks all over the White House. All sorts of different ones. Hammerheads are the scariest, don't you think? Or maybe Great Whites? They have those down in Australia. You know Australia's a member of "THE COALITION OF THE WILLING," right? Hell, they sent eight or nine guys to Iraq. I know it don't sound like much, but if they're all like Mad Max, well then I bet they could really do some damage!
BDS: Perhaps we should have asked the Australians for some of their sharks?
GWB: Now why didn't I think of that? Teddy! (to Aide #3) Get what's-his-nuts on the phone!
Aide #3: Prime Minister Howard?
GWB: Yeah, him. Tell him I want to talk to him about getting some sharks.
Aide #3: Can do, sir!
BDS: So, these shark posters. Did you have a motivational products company make them?
GWB: Hell no! I DID IT MYSELF! It was decided that it was an important initiative. In fact, they thought it was so important that Dick even gave me the code to run the color copier. Want to know what it is?
BDS: Actually, sir I think that...
GWB: Oh, come on. It won't hurt none, as long as you don't PRINT it. It's... (silently mouths a four-number series.)
BDS: Well yes, I can see why...
GWB: Now I can have you killed. You know... (whispers) to protect the secret.
BDS: Ummm...
GWB: Oh hell! Im just messin' with you little buddy! In fact, why don't you go ahead and remember that. I may need to call you about it if I forget. Dick doesn't like to tell me things twice. And I've learned not to ask twice.
BDS: It will be our secret, sir. Now then, if we could move on to the matter of the coming mid-term elections, I'd like to know what you think the biggest challenge to
(Aide #3 interrupts): Sir, I've got Prime Minister Howard on line 3.
GWB: Aw, hell! I better take this now or I'll never remember what it was I wanted to talk to him about. Can you come back next week? We can finish up then.
BDS: Of course, Mr. President. Perhaps we can discuss something other than sharks?
GWB: Whatever. Sharks. BBQ. The war. Shit! Its all good!
Note: What follows is an interview I conducted with President Bush in the west wing of the White House in mid-August of 2006. BDS
BDS: Good afternoon, Mr. President. Thank you for taking the time to meet with me.
GWB: Call me George. No wait, call me "Thumper." That's what they called me in school. You wanna know why?
BDS: I suppose I could guess.
GWB: Wait, this is "on the record," right? That's the one where you can print whatever I say?
BDS: It is.
GWB: Better go with "George," then. Or, "President George."
BDS: How about just, "Mr. President."
GWB: That'll do 'er!
BDS: Now then, Mr. President. You're half-way through your second term, how would you say things are going?
GWB: I'll tell you Brian, things are going GREAT! We got a new motto here at the White House, "Moving Forward." Things are really moving forward right now. Forward momentum. Like a rocket to the moon.
BDS: Or Mars.
GWB: What?
BDS: You may recall, you announced an initiative to realize the dream of manned exploration of the planet Mars.
GWB: I did?
BDS: Yes, some time ago.
GWB: And how's that going?
BDS: Well, we're not there yet, sir.
GWB: Hmm, guess I better kick a few butts over at NASA. Get 'em "Moving Forward," eh? (chuckles)
BDS: Yes, I'm beginning to see the wisdom of your new approach.
GWB: You know where I got it from, don't ya? From, "Shark Week." You know, on The Discovery Channel. That's Channel 58 on satellite here in D.C. But it's something different down in Crawford. I wish they could do something about that. Every time I go down there I have to flip around forever to figure out which one is The Discovery Channel. And then, when I find it as soon as I change the channel I forget and I can't get back to it without doing the whole dang thing over again. ESPN's the same in both places. It's 32. I don't know why, though.
BDS: So, um... back to Shark Week?
GWB: Oh yeah. So I learned on Shark Week that sharks have to keep moving forward in the water or they'll die.
(In the background:) Aide #1: Except for Nurse sharks, of course.
GWB: What?
Aide #2: Never mind. Its just an "I.F.," sir.
BDS: "I.F.?"
Aide #2: "Inconvenient Fact." They impede forward momentum. They are contra to the President's paradigm. The paradigm requires that the President ignore them. They are dealt with by people like me.
(Aide #1 is led from the room. Door closes. Some muffled noises on the other side.)
GWB: Yeah, so anyway it's something about the air in the water. And I just thought that was really neat and then I thought it would be a heckuva motto for my administration. Now I got pictures of sharks all over the White House. All sorts of different ones. Hammerheads are the scariest, don't you think? Or maybe Great Whites? They have those down in Australia. You know Australia's a member of "THE COALITION OF THE WILLING," right? Hell, they sent eight or nine guys to Iraq. I know it don't sound like much, but if they're all like Mad Max, well then I bet they could really do some damage!
BDS: Perhaps we should have asked the Australians for some of their sharks?
GWB: Now why didn't I think of that? Teddy! (to Aide #3) Get what's-his-nuts on the phone!
Aide #3: Prime Minister Howard?
GWB: Yeah, him. Tell him I want to talk to him about getting some sharks.
Aide #3: Can do, sir!
BDS: So, these shark posters. Did you have a motivational products company make them?
GWB: Hell no! I DID IT MYSELF! It was decided that it was an important initiative. In fact, they thought it was so important that Dick even gave me the code to run the color copier. Want to know what it is?
BDS: Actually, sir I think that...
GWB: Oh, come on. It won't hurt none, as long as you don't PRINT it. It's... (silently mouths a four-number series.)
BDS: Well yes, I can see why...
GWB: Now I can have you killed. You know... (whispers) to protect the secret.
BDS: Ummm...
GWB: Oh hell! Im just messin' with you little buddy! In fact, why don't you go ahead and remember that. I may need to call you about it if I forget. Dick doesn't like to tell me things twice. And I've learned not to ask twice.
BDS: It will be our secret, sir. Now then, if we could move on to the matter of the coming mid-term elections, I'd like to know what you think the biggest challenge to
(Aide #3 interrupts): Sir, I've got Prime Minister Howard on line 3.
GWB: Aw, hell! I better take this now or I'll never remember what it was I wanted to talk to him about. Can you come back next week? We can finish up then.
BDS: Of course, Mr. President. Perhaps we can discuss something other than sharks?
GWB: Whatever. Sharks. BBQ. The war. Shit! Its all good!
MR. SHUEY'S SEVEN TIPS FOR SURVIVING THE APOCALYPSE
(7.18.06)
As most of you know, I am an atheist. However, I'm also practical, and can see the wisdom in preparing for any eventuality, however farcical or remote.
According to the Bible--Thats the book you have to move aside in your hotel room night table when you're looking for matches or the handy list of local delivery joints-- the End Times are just around the corner. In fact, they have been for a couple of millennia now. With the current dust-up in the Middle East, contemporary prophets of doom contend that they are really, REALLY just around the corner.
If you are devout Christian, apparently you're all set (A note to devout Christians: I'd keep paying those credit card bills all the same.)
But what about the rest of us? I now present...
MR. SHUEY'S SEVEN TIPS FOR SURVIVING THE APOCALYPSE
1) The right shoes are a must: Make sure they fit properly (no "pinching") but are not too loose either. It's going to be either really hot or really cold (they are unclear on this) so have a supply of wool AND cotton socks on hand.
2) Stock-up on lots of water: Get the least expensive distilled water available. God will not be impressed by Evian or Voss, and having the expensive kinds around may lose you essential "piety" points.
3) Have a Bible on you: Couldn't hurt. Just make sure you didn't steal it from the hotel room. Those are for sharing.
4) Clean-up your apartment: Throw-out the porn. Don't just hide it. Jesus is coming, not your Mom. However, unlike your Mom, you do not need to dust on Jesus' account. (I don't think, anyway.) Do not throw out the booze, though. If you don't make the cut you're going to need it. In fact...
5) Secure plenty of booze: I put my odds of getting "Left Behind" at a very high order of probability. And I don't plan on being sober for The Rapture anymore than I plan on being sober this weekend.
6) Get a really good umbrella: Ask the guy at the store if it will protect you from raining sulfur. When he gives you a stupid look just buy the most expensive one they have. Go out in style, thats my motto.
7) Fuck it! Go apeshit!: You know what? I'm still writing this (and you're still reading it) so chances are we're BOTH going to hell. And as much as I hate people mucking-up my floors and spilling beer on my records, THE RAPTURE PARTY'S AT MY PLACE! A no-hold-barred naked, drunken freak-fest that would make Caligula blush. I promise it will be the best (and last) party you ever attend. See you there.
As most of you know, I am an atheist. However, I'm also practical, and can see the wisdom in preparing for any eventuality, however farcical or remote.
According to the Bible--Thats the book you have to move aside in your hotel room night table when you're looking for matches or the handy list of local delivery joints-- the End Times are just around the corner. In fact, they have been for a couple of millennia now. With the current dust-up in the Middle East, contemporary prophets of doom contend that they are really, REALLY just around the corner.
If you are devout Christian, apparently you're all set (A note to devout Christians: I'd keep paying those credit card bills all the same.)
But what about the rest of us? I now present...
MR. SHUEY'S SEVEN TIPS FOR SURVIVING THE APOCALYPSE
1) The right shoes are a must: Make sure they fit properly (no "pinching") but are not too loose either. It's going to be either really hot or really cold (they are unclear on this) so have a supply of wool AND cotton socks on hand.
2) Stock-up on lots of water: Get the least expensive distilled water available. God will not be impressed by Evian or Voss, and having the expensive kinds around may lose you essential "piety" points.
3) Have a Bible on you: Couldn't hurt. Just make sure you didn't steal it from the hotel room. Those are for sharing.
4) Clean-up your apartment: Throw-out the porn. Don't just hide it. Jesus is coming, not your Mom. However, unlike your Mom, you do not need to dust on Jesus' account. (I don't think, anyway.) Do not throw out the booze, though. If you don't make the cut you're going to need it. In fact...
5) Secure plenty of booze: I put my odds of getting "Left Behind" at a very high order of probability. And I don't plan on being sober for The Rapture anymore than I plan on being sober this weekend.
6) Get a really good umbrella: Ask the guy at the store if it will protect you from raining sulfur. When he gives you a stupid look just buy the most expensive one they have. Go out in style, thats my motto.
7) Fuck it! Go apeshit!: You know what? I'm still writing this (and you're still reading it) so chances are we're BOTH going to hell. And as much as I hate people mucking-up my floors and spilling beer on my records, THE RAPTURE PARTY'S AT MY PLACE! A no-hold-barred naked, drunken freak-fest that would make Caligula blush. I promise it will be the best (and last) party you ever attend. See you there.
MR. SHUEY'S NOVEL "HEADLINE" MENTAL HEALTH TEST
(7.9.06)
So here's a little game I've invented. There are 20 headlines below. Some are real, some I've made-up. Think you know which are which? I'll bet you don't! (Note: this is not a "trick" in which they're ALL made-up. Honest. I wouldn't pull something like that. That's something a dick does.)Feel free to send me your guesses. The "winner" will get a prize to be determined later.
1) Aspirin kills/saves lives
2) 5 G.I.s Charged in Iraq rape-slay
3) Which Hot Styles Best Fit Her Face?
4) Fresh Israeli strikes target Gaza
5) New "Poison" to cure cancer?
6) Cruise to court Catholics?
7) Getting the Most Out Of Doggie playtime
8) Zarqawi comic book stash
9) Mexico Vote Flap to postpone Bullfights
10) Security Plan Staggers on
11) "Orphan Train" in Bangladesh catches fire; 22 Dead
12) Babies at 70? New Trend?
13) Next World Cup in Africa?
14) Study: Women Sweat More Than Men
15) Boy loses Fingers to Alligator; Will Keep as Pet
16) French P.M.: Head-butts "tres mauvais"
17) Toothpaste "ban" in Russian Province
18) Love All As Wimbledon Denies David Hasselhoff Row
19) Mexico Genocide Charges dropped
20) Rocket Size of Football Pitch New N. Korean threat?
Good luck!
Mr. Shuey
So here's a little game I've invented. There are 20 headlines below. Some are real, some I've made-up. Think you know which are which? I'll bet you don't! (Note: this is not a "trick" in which they're ALL made-up. Honest. I wouldn't pull something like that. That's something a dick does.)Feel free to send me your guesses. The "winner" will get a prize to be determined later.
1) Aspirin kills/saves lives
2) 5 G.I.s Charged in Iraq rape-slay
3) Which Hot Styles Best Fit Her Face?
4) Fresh Israeli strikes target Gaza
5) New "Poison" to cure cancer?
6) Cruise to court Catholics?
7) Getting the Most Out Of Doggie playtime
8) Zarqawi comic book stash
9) Mexico Vote Flap to postpone Bullfights
10) Security Plan Staggers on
11) "Orphan Train" in Bangladesh catches fire; 22 Dead
12) Babies at 70? New Trend?
13) Next World Cup in Africa?
14) Study: Women Sweat More Than Men
15) Boy loses Fingers to Alligator; Will Keep as Pet
16) French P.M.: Head-butts "tres mauvais"
17) Toothpaste "ban" in Russian Province
18) Love All As Wimbledon Denies David Hasselhoff Row
19) Mexico Genocide Charges dropped
20) Rocket Size of Football Pitch New N. Korean threat?
Good luck!
Mr. Shuey
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