Congratulations! If you are reading this then you are the proud new owner of a Mysterio Magic Handcuff Trick magic set! After a few simple instructions and safety tips, you'll be well on your way to impressing all your friends with the latest in children's magic toys!
Inside you will find:
1.) The Mysterio Magic Handcuffs
2.) The instruction booklet for the Mysterio Magic Handcuffs (you're reading it!!)
3.) The key and spare key to the Mysterio Magic Handcuffs
4.) Protective gauze and first aid ointments
Alright, let's get started!
1.) Remove the Mysterio Magic Handcuffs from their packaging and set them down, locks facing up. DO NOT set the handcuffs on a metal or glass table. DO NOT set the handcuffs with locks facing down.
2.) Apply a protective layer of gauze to your wrists, torso and lower face. DO NOT perform this trick without protective gauze. If the gauze tears, try to remove the handcuffs AS QUICKLY AS POSSIBLE and AS CAREFULLY AS POSSIBLE, taking care to keep the razor sharp underside of the handcuffs AWAY FROM YOUR SKIN.
3.) Put the handcuffs around your wrists and close tightly until the latch clicks three times. DO NOT let the latch click four times. If the latch clicks four times, call the Mysterio Magic Products Help/Medical Emergency hotline immediately and watch for signs of REDNESS or SWELLING OF THE APPENDAGES.
4.) Have a friend (preferably a trained physician or someone with first aid certification) lock the handcuffs with the key. (NOTE: The area around the lock, while having the appearance of being surrounded by sharp, twisted metal, is entirely safe.)
5.) Now you can add as much magic as you want! Encourage your friends to examine the handcuffs (while AVOIDING LOOKING at the Mysterio Magic Handcuffs for longer than 5-7 SECONDS). Just don't let them find the trick lock release button (location of trick lock release button varies from model to model)!!
6.) If you've built up the excitement enough, everyone should be convinced that the Mysterio Magic Handcuffs are impossible to remove! (NOTE: If steps 3-5 are performed in the incorrect order, the Mysterio Magic Handcuffs will be IMPOSSIBLE TO REMOVE). At this point simply press the lock release button lightly (LIGHTLY) three times (THREE TIMES) with your thumb (IT HAS TO BE YOUR THUMB) until the lock is released!
If you made it through these six simple steps, then you're right on track to being the hit of every party! (DO NOT use the Mysterio Magic Handcuffs in a room with SIX OR MORE PEOPLE).
Have fun, and enjoy the magic!! (In the event of real magic, contact the Mysterio Magic Company and/or your local hospital IMMEDIATELY).
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Nostradamus
---Nostradamus, these predictions you've made are astounding.
---Thank you. Read them a second time, and you'll find things you missed.
---I will. But sir, what is your method?
---I'll show you. Here, do you have a piece of lined paper and a pencil?
---Wide or college ruled?
---Either will work. Now, in order to gaze into the future, we must divide it into several categories. Place of Residence, Occupation, Salary, Spouse, Vehicle and Number of Offspring.
---Is this how you do all your predictions?
---This is a time tested method. It never fails. Now you just fill in the categories. For example, under Place of Residence I'm putting Paris, Rome and just for fun, Pooptown.
---Where is that? Poland?
---Now you say stop.
---I've always thought your predictions were more about, you know...geo-political trends and what not.
---Say stop.
---It's just--
---Say it!
---Stop.
---Ok...thirteen, so...
---I'm finding all of this sort of difficult to believe.
---Well, you would. Considering you're Mayor of Pooptown.
---Who am I married to?
---Terri Hatcher.
---Who's she?
---Only time will tell.
---Thank you. Read them a second time, and you'll find things you missed.
---I will. But sir, what is your method?
---I'll show you. Here, do you have a piece of lined paper and a pencil?
---Wide or college ruled?
---Either will work. Now, in order to gaze into the future, we must divide it into several categories. Place of Residence, Occupation, Salary, Spouse, Vehicle and Number of Offspring.
---Is this how you do all your predictions?
---This is a time tested method. It never fails. Now you just fill in the categories. For example, under Place of Residence I'm putting Paris, Rome and just for fun, Pooptown.
---Where is that? Poland?
---Now you say stop.
---I've always thought your predictions were more about, you know...geo-political trends and what not.
---Say stop.
---It's just--
---Say it!
---Stop.
---Ok...thirteen, so...
---I'm finding all of this sort of difficult to believe.
---Well, you would. Considering you're Mayor of Pooptown.
---Who am I married to?
---Terri Hatcher.
---Who's she?
---Only time will tell.
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
When I Grow Up
My Future and Potential
By Jerry Rawls, Mrs. Whitman's Class, Grade 3
Everyone has potential. One day we will all grow up and get jobs. People can be whatever they want to be if they work hard. I will work hard and do good. I could be a pilot or a book writer or anything. What I want to do most when I grow up is kill Thomas Ridgley.
Thomas sits next to me and is mean. He knocked my Capri Sun out of my hand when I was holding it in my hand in the lunchroom at lunch and ever since then I have wanted to grow up so I can kill him. I also like cars and trucks, so I think I could be a good driver and that could be my job when I grow up. I would like to get a job driving a truck that's really big so that its tires can roll over Thomas' face.
When I went on a trip to Idaho we went on a tour of some caverns and a tour guide showed us around and told us about the place. Thomas made fun of the shirt my mom bought me at the gift shop and spit in my face and yelled at me. I think I would like to be a tour guide when I grow up and show people around a place like a cavern. Maybe Thomas would come to my cavern and I'd tell the rest of the group to go ahead and leave him behind in an unsafe room with lots of stalactites and dangerous spiders and rats and stuff. Plus I would get to wear shorts and a hat like Indiana Jones.
I like reading about lizards and snakes, so maybe I can grow up to be someone in charge of lizards and snakes. But I wouldn't show them to people at the zoo or anything, I'd just not feed them for a while and leave them in Thomas' house.
After Thomas pushed me in the woodchips at recess, I thought I would like to be a policeman. If I were a policeman when Thomas grew up, he wouldn't be able to push me around anymore, because I'd be the police. He'd have to do what I say because I'd be a policeman and I'd always be right. If I were a policeman, one day grown up Thomas could come home and find me in his house putting stuff around to make it look like he was selling drugs and taking pictures of children with no clothes on, and he'd be upset because he hadn't done these things. And he'd say he'd tell on me, and I'd ask him who exactly he would tell on me to, because I was the law. I would probably testify against him in court and I think the jury would believe me because I was a policeman. Thomas' grown up wife would be all sad and his children would disown him and he would have ten to fifteen years in jail to think about why he pushed me in the woodchips.
If this doesn't work I would like to be a veterinarian but only for dinosaurs.
By Jerry Rawls, Mrs. Whitman's Class, Grade 3
Everyone has potential. One day we will all grow up and get jobs. People can be whatever they want to be if they work hard. I will work hard and do good. I could be a pilot or a book writer or anything. What I want to do most when I grow up is kill Thomas Ridgley.
Thomas sits next to me and is mean. He knocked my Capri Sun out of my hand when I was holding it in my hand in the lunchroom at lunch and ever since then I have wanted to grow up so I can kill him. I also like cars and trucks, so I think I could be a good driver and that could be my job when I grow up. I would like to get a job driving a truck that's really big so that its tires can roll over Thomas' face.
When I went on a trip to Idaho we went on a tour of some caverns and a tour guide showed us around and told us about the place. Thomas made fun of the shirt my mom bought me at the gift shop and spit in my face and yelled at me. I think I would like to be a tour guide when I grow up and show people around a place like a cavern. Maybe Thomas would come to my cavern and I'd tell the rest of the group to go ahead and leave him behind in an unsafe room with lots of stalactites and dangerous spiders and rats and stuff. Plus I would get to wear shorts and a hat like Indiana Jones.
I like reading about lizards and snakes, so maybe I can grow up to be someone in charge of lizards and snakes. But I wouldn't show them to people at the zoo or anything, I'd just not feed them for a while and leave them in Thomas' house.
After Thomas pushed me in the woodchips at recess, I thought I would like to be a policeman. If I were a policeman when Thomas grew up, he wouldn't be able to push me around anymore, because I'd be the police. He'd have to do what I say because I'd be a policeman and I'd always be right. If I were a policeman, one day grown up Thomas could come home and find me in his house putting stuff around to make it look like he was selling drugs and taking pictures of children with no clothes on, and he'd be upset because he hadn't done these things. And he'd say he'd tell on me, and I'd ask him who exactly he would tell on me to, because I was the law. I would probably testify against him in court and I think the jury would believe me because I was a policeman. Thomas' grown up wife would be all sad and his children would disown him and he would have ten to fifteen years in jail to think about why he pushed me in the woodchips.
If this doesn't work I would like to be a veterinarian but only for dinosaurs.
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
Dream Team
The Wild Bunch rides back to Hole In The Wall after their first robbery.
NEWS CARVER: Good work everybody, our first successful job! Just to be safe, looks we should split up to throw the law off our trail.
KID CURRY: Agreed.
NEWS: Alright, well, Butch and I will take the low pass, Curry, why don't you and Sundance ride together through the canyon.
BUTCH CASSIDY: Um...actually, I think Sundance and I will ride together.
SUNDANCE KID: Yeah, that seems better.
CARVER: What? Why?
BUTCH: Well, it's just, you know, I know we only just met, and I don't want to speak for you here, Sundance...
SUNDANCE: I think we're really clicking.
BUTCH: Wow. Really?
CURRY: What, so we don't click?
BUTCH: No, Curry, we definitely click. The whole gang seems to be clicking.
SUNDANCE: Firing on all cylinders.
BUTCH: It's just Sundance and I are just---
SUNDANCE: ---cut from the same cloth.
BUTCH: Damn, Sundance, you've been finishing my sentences all the way since Cheyenne!
SUNDANCE: I just get you, man.
NEWS: You guys can't ride together. We split up all the supplies between your two horses.
BUTCH: Come on, it's only another few days ride. Hunt or something.
NEWS: Alright, fine, but I think we need to have a serious gang meeting once we all get to Hole In The Wall.
BUTCH: Oh, I'd love to, but Sundance and I have plans.
CURRY: What plans?
SUNDANCE: Butch is helping me move out of my old place.
BUTCH: Boy, you should see the studio apartment this guy got.
NEWS: Can we rendezvous there then?
SUNDANCE: Ooh...all I've got is my bed and the futon...
BUTCH: And you don't want anyone sharing that again, not after last weekend!
Butch and Sundance laugh.
CURRY: You gonna tell us what that means?
BUTCH: It's just an inside thing.
NEWS CARVER: Good work everybody, our first successful job! Just to be safe, looks we should split up to throw the law off our trail.
KID CURRY: Agreed.
NEWS: Alright, well, Butch and I will take the low pass, Curry, why don't you and Sundance ride together through the canyon.
BUTCH CASSIDY: Um...actually, I think Sundance and I will ride together.
SUNDANCE KID: Yeah, that seems better.
CARVER: What? Why?
BUTCH: Well, it's just, you know, I know we only just met, and I don't want to speak for you here, Sundance...
SUNDANCE: I think we're really clicking.
BUTCH: Wow. Really?
CURRY: What, so we don't click?
BUTCH: No, Curry, we definitely click. The whole gang seems to be clicking.
SUNDANCE: Firing on all cylinders.
BUTCH: It's just Sundance and I are just---
SUNDANCE: ---cut from the same cloth.
BUTCH: Damn, Sundance, you've been finishing my sentences all the way since Cheyenne!
SUNDANCE: I just get you, man.
NEWS: You guys can't ride together. We split up all the supplies between your two horses.
BUTCH: Come on, it's only another few days ride. Hunt or something.
NEWS: Alright, fine, but I think we need to have a serious gang meeting once we all get to Hole In The Wall.
BUTCH: Oh, I'd love to, but Sundance and I have plans.
CURRY: What plans?
SUNDANCE: Butch is helping me move out of my old place.
BUTCH: Boy, you should see the studio apartment this guy got.
NEWS: Can we rendezvous there then?
SUNDANCE: Ooh...all I've got is my bed and the futon...
BUTCH: And you don't want anyone sharing that again, not after last weekend!
Butch and Sundance laugh.
CURRY: You gonna tell us what that means?
BUTCH: It's just an inside thing.
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
A Life Changing Experience
Summer jobs: we've all had them. Most people end up reflecting on lazy days spent waiting tables or sweeping floors. Sure, you earn some cash, but what's the point of it all? I, by contrast, was lucky enough to have a summer job that changed my life, for I spent the summer of 2009 working with a bunch of retards. Retarded kids, specifically.
In early June I began work as a counselor at Camp Alton for Special Needs Youth (which is just a more official way to say retards). Honestly, I didn't really know what to expect. Sure, I'm a sensitive, caring young man, but did I really have what it takes to work with retarded and vaguely deformed kids? But all those fears went away when I met the children. Their loving spirits and unending enthusiasm touched me deeply within the first few hours of working there. I could tell this experience was going to special. By that I mean special like life-changing, not special like retarded.
The first lesson I learned was this: retards have so much to teach us, you guys. There was this one camper named Jacob, and he was significantly more retarded than the other campers. One day we went to a public park to play on the swings (which reminds me of another lesson I learned: retards really like swings). Well, of course there were some insensitive kids already there who mocked Jacob and his behavior. But darn it if Jacob didn't just walk right up to them and tell them that he was who he was and hop right on those swings. In that moment, I saw a courage and a bravery from Jacob that I really took to heart. Plus Jacob's also black, so that's like, double sensitivity points.
There were plenty of other incidents over the course of the camp that showed me just how ignorant some people can be. It's shocking that we still live in a world where people are insensitive to someone just because they're really, really retarded. If everyone went through a week at this camp, then maybe in the future, instead of pointing out a retard and saying, "Hey, look, a retard, look how retarded he is," they might instead say "Hey look, a retard, look how retarded he is. That's awesome".
In early June I began work as a counselor at Camp Alton for Special Needs Youth (which is just a more official way to say retards). Honestly, I didn't really know what to expect. Sure, I'm a sensitive, caring young man, but did I really have what it takes to work with retarded and vaguely deformed kids? But all those fears went away when I met the children. Their loving spirits and unending enthusiasm touched me deeply within the first few hours of working there. I could tell this experience was going to special. By that I mean special like life-changing, not special like retarded.
The first lesson I learned was this: retards have so much to teach us, you guys. There was this one camper named Jacob, and he was significantly more retarded than the other campers. One day we went to a public park to play on the swings (which reminds me of another lesson I learned: retards really like swings). Well, of course there were some insensitive kids already there who mocked Jacob and his behavior. But darn it if Jacob didn't just walk right up to them and tell them that he was who he was and hop right on those swings. In that moment, I saw a courage and a bravery from Jacob that I really took to heart. Plus Jacob's also black, so that's like, double sensitivity points.
There were plenty of other incidents over the course of the camp that showed me just how ignorant some people can be. It's shocking that we still live in a world where people are insensitive to someone just because they're really, really retarded. If everyone went through a week at this camp, then maybe in the future, instead of pointing out a retard and saying, "Hey, look, a retard, look how retarded he is," they might instead say "Hey look, a retard, look how retarded he is. That's awesome".
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Up In The Lab
DR. DRE: Alright, Snoop, let me run this second verse by you.
SNOOP: Cool, let's hear it.
DR. DRE: So you go "If you ain't up on things" and then I go "Dr. Dre is the name/I'm ahead of my game/Still puffing my leafs" and then I wanna throw it back to NWA with something like, "Still fuck with the beats/Still fucking police."
SNOOP: Wait...still fucking police?
DR. DRE: Shit. No, that's not...that's not what I meant.
SNOOP: Because that sort of implies that that, not only are you having sex with officers of the law...
DR. DRE: I know, I know...
SNOOP: ...but also that you are continuing to do it and have been doing it for some time.
DR. DRE: Alright, so to avoid confusion I'll change it to "Not fucking police".
SNOOP: That makes it sound like you like police. Either that or you're trying to convince people that you are not having sex with the police.
DR. DRE: Why are my feelings so difficult to articulate?
SNOOP: I do not know.
DR. DRE: What I want to communicate is that the feelings I have for police are the opposite of love.
SNOOP: We're over-thinking this. I didn't have this problem when I came up with the phrase "still waters run deep".
DR. DRE: Alright, we'll keep it simple. "Still not loving police".
SNOOP: Cool.
DR. DRE: "Not loving" is the opposite of "fucking", right?
SNOOP: As far as I know.
DR. DRE: Good. I'm glad we sorted this out. The last thing I need is this album implying that I'm gay.
SNOOP: Absolutely.
DR. DRE: Oh hey, while you're here, help me out with this "Forgot About Dre" verse, I'm trying to figure out a way to work in a reference to the Cabbage Patch Kids.
SNOOP: Let's send Eminem on a coffee run.
SNOOP: Cool, let's hear it.
DR. DRE: So you go "If you ain't up on things" and then I go "Dr. Dre is the name/I'm ahead of my game/Still puffing my leafs" and then I wanna throw it back to NWA with something like, "Still fuck with the beats/Still fucking police."
SNOOP: Wait...still fucking police?
DR. DRE: Shit. No, that's not...that's not what I meant.
SNOOP: Because that sort of implies that that, not only are you having sex with officers of the law...
DR. DRE: I know, I know...
SNOOP: ...but also that you are continuing to do it and have been doing it for some time.
DR. DRE: Alright, so to avoid confusion I'll change it to "Not fucking police".
SNOOP: That makes it sound like you like police. Either that or you're trying to convince people that you are not having sex with the police.
DR. DRE: Why are my feelings so difficult to articulate?
SNOOP: I do not know.
DR. DRE: What I want to communicate is that the feelings I have for police are the opposite of love.
SNOOP: We're over-thinking this. I didn't have this problem when I came up with the phrase "still waters run deep".
DR. DRE: Alright, we'll keep it simple. "Still not loving police".
SNOOP: Cool.
DR. DRE: "Not loving" is the opposite of "fucking", right?
SNOOP: As far as I know.
DR. DRE: Good. I'm glad we sorted this out. The last thing I need is this album implying that I'm gay.
SNOOP: Absolutely.
DR. DRE: Oh hey, while you're here, help me out with this "Forgot About Dre" verse, I'm trying to figure out a way to work in a reference to the Cabbage Patch Kids.
SNOOP: Let's send Eminem on a coffee run.
Monday, April 27, 2009
Diffusing Tension
POLICE INTERROGATION
COP 1: I don't buy the bullshit you're slinging! And I'm prepared to beat you with a tire iron until I get the truth!
COP 2: Nobody burns down an orphanage in my fucking city and gets away with it!
COP 1: I'm gonna cut your thumbs off and feed them to your newly decapitated head if you don't tell me where your accomplice is so I can string him up by the neck and leave him to rot and fester in the noonday sun!
SUSPECT: Can I just say that you are really pulling off that Paisley tie right now?
COP 1: Oh, thanks! Yeah my daughter got it for me.
COP 2: Hey, I have a daughter too.
SUSPECT: I've got two sons myself.
COP 2: Cool.
FAMILY ARGUMENT
FATHER: I told you, I can't show the receipts from the Vegas conference because I had to submit them to corporate!
MOTHER: Yeah well I can show you the paperwork on the withdrawal you made out of an ATM in some bar called "Skin"!
FATHER: Just because you're an overweight she-hag doesn't mean I'm out there snorting coke off stripper's asses!
MOTHER: Sorry we can't all disappear on deep sea fishing trips with our platonic work buddy "Scooter" when times get tough!
SON: You guys! Look what I won playing skeeball!
FATHER: Is that a plush Pikachu?!
MOTHER: I'll clear a space on the mantle!
BANK ROBBERY
THIEF: Put your hands over your goddamn head!
CIVILIAN: Oh my God Oh my God Oh my God...
THIEF: I will kill you! I will murder every man, woman and child in this bank if somebody doesn't fill this bag with cash right fucking now!
TELLER: Hey you guys...I know it came out a long time ago, but can we please talk about Yankee Hotel Foxtrot for a second?
CIVILIAN: Don't get me started, I could gush all day!
THIEF: God, the sheer scope of that record is just breathtaking.
BREAKUP
MAN: I'm sorry, it's over.
WOMAN: How can you do this to me?
The man chokes on the hot dog he was eating and there is no more tension.
COP 1: I don't buy the bullshit you're slinging! And I'm prepared to beat you with a tire iron until I get the truth!
COP 2: Nobody burns down an orphanage in my fucking city and gets away with it!
COP 1: I'm gonna cut your thumbs off and feed them to your newly decapitated head if you don't tell me where your accomplice is so I can string him up by the neck and leave him to rot and fester in the noonday sun!
SUSPECT: Can I just say that you are really pulling off that Paisley tie right now?
COP 1: Oh, thanks! Yeah my daughter got it for me.
COP 2: Hey, I have a daughter too.
SUSPECT: I've got two sons myself.
COP 2: Cool.
FAMILY ARGUMENT
FATHER: I told you, I can't show the receipts from the Vegas conference because I had to submit them to corporate!
MOTHER: Yeah well I can show you the paperwork on the withdrawal you made out of an ATM in some bar called "Skin"!
FATHER: Just because you're an overweight she-hag doesn't mean I'm out there snorting coke off stripper's asses!
MOTHER: Sorry we can't all disappear on deep sea fishing trips with our platonic work buddy "Scooter" when times get tough!
SON: You guys! Look what I won playing skeeball!
FATHER: Is that a plush Pikachu?!
MOTHER: I'll clear a space on the mantle!
BANK ROBBERY
THIEF: Put your hands over your goddamn head!
CIVILIAN: Oh my God Oh my God Oh my God...
THIEF: I will kill you! I will murder every man, woman and child in this bank if somebody doesn't fill this bag with cash right fucking now!
TELLER: Hey you guys...I know it came out a long time ago, but can we please talk about Yankee Hotel Foxtrot for a second?
CIVILIAN: Don't get me started, I could gush all day!
THIEF: God, the sheer scope of that record is just breathtaking.
BREAKUP
MAN: I'm sorry, it's over.
WOMAN: How can you do this to me?
The man chokes on the hot dog he was eating and there is no more tension.
Sunday, April 19, 2009
Director's Notes
The artistic process is a strange, unpredictable, terrifying beast that lives in the creatively minded and spends its days begging to leap from its masters' chest cavity and into the world of theater. The process of writing, directing and starring in "Smack Addict: A Nocturne In Three Movements?" resulted in the kind of catharsis that can only be attained when one lets that rabid mad dog that is Art off of its leash and lets it tear at the audience's throats. I would like to think that I did not conceive of this story, I simply let it emerge from the ether that is the muse of writing.
The challenges we face living in modern urban environments seem insurmountable. One might often feel adrift, a lost wayfarer in a sea of despair that isn't really a sea but is actually a major metropolitan city. The character of Rhoda is just such a wayfarer. Rhoda's journey from suburban stay at home mother of four to drug-riddled tarot card reader/prostitute forces us to ask the difficult questions. What is truth? How far may one fall before cracking their teeth on the gutter, metaphorically and literally? Is truth real? How poor is too poor? And finally, is this play happening? I assure you, it is.
My intentions in creating this work were to portray real people struggling in a real world. It ended up a story of real people struggling in a dystopian, magical-surrealist world. It is a story of humanity, not a thinly veiled platform for me to tout my political ideals. That being said, much of act two is about Israel.
A note on the dialect: I modeled the speech patterns of Rhoda and her lover Clarence Thomas after the sonnets of Elizabeth Barrett Browning and the dialogue after the lyrics of Phil Collins. The characters' voices are not intended to sound like those of people, but rather people pretending to be people.
Thank you to the Newbury Community Rec Center for hosting this production, and to all of you for your support.
Learn, live, laugh, cry, think, question, and seek,
Chauncey Masterson
The challenges we face living in modern urban environments seem insurmountable. One might often feel adrift, a lost wayfarer in a sea of despair that isn't really a sea but is actually a major metropolitan city. The character of Rhoda is just such a wayfarer. Rhoda's journey from suburban stay at home mother of four to drug-riddled tarot card reader/prostitute forces us to ask the difficult questions. What is truth? How far may one fall before cracking their teeth on the gutter, metaphorically and literally? Is truth real? How poor is too poor? And finally, is this play happening? I assure you, it is.
My intentions in creating this work were to portray real people struggling in a real world. It ended up a story of real people struggling in a dystopian, magical-surrealist world. It is a story of humanity, not a thinly veiled platform for me to tout my political ideals. That being said, much of act two is about Israel.
A note on the dialect: I modeled the speech patterns of Rhoda and her lover Clarence Thomas after the sonnets of Elizabeth Barrett Browning and the dialogue after the lyrics of Phil Collins. The characters' voices are not intended to sound like those of people, but rather people pretending to be people.
Thank you to the Newbury Community Rec Center for hosting this production, and to all of you for your support.
Learn, live, laugh, cry, think, question, and seek,
Chauncey Masterson
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
The Tour of My Brain
Hello, and thank you for purchasing the audio tour of Devin's brain. I'm your guide, The Way Devin Thinks He Sounds, but feel free to call me Young Alec Baldwin. Devin's brain is one of the least fascinating or original brains available in Los Angeles, or for that matter, the nation! Let's begin, shall we?
As you enter the Brain you'll see that you're passing through the Apathy Foyer. One of the largest rooms in the brain, initial plans for the Foyer were drawn up in 2001 after Devin's realization that Permanent Records did not exist before high school. Initial construction was finished the day before the SATs in 2007, but the structure is under constant expansion. This room is traditionally used for official Brain events, most commonly the weekly "I'll Get Up At Nine and Really Get Some Good Writing Done" late luncheon. Take time to absorb the atmosphere of inactivity before moving on.
As we move through the Brain, notice the portraits that line the hallways. They include Abbott and Costello, Jonathan Winters, Bob and Ray, Sid Caesar, W.C. Fields and Buster Keaton, just to name a few. These are all part of the Brain's "Comedians Devin Really Thinks Are Just Fuckin' Timeless, Man, And Whose Stuff He Would Love To Show You" collection.
As you descend the Staircase of Poor Hand Eye-Coordination you'll arrive at the Brain's gymnasium, a center for all things related to Devin's physical activities. The facilities here have everything an athlete like Devin might need: weight machines that he can't figure out, basketball courts for free-throw shooting only and a hot tub to reward himself after a hard walk to the gymnasium. The Brain's staff of personal trainers subscribe to the Devin Method, a rigorous regimen of I dunno, like, sixty sit-ups and however many push-ups you can do every other day for two weeks or until something comes up.
Feast your eyes upon one of the least advanced areas of the Brain, the Pursuit of the Opposite Sex Observatory. The Observatory is home to a team of thirty scientists who work around the clock on expanding the list of Endearing Self-Depricating Things To Shout At Girls Over Party Music. Notice the signature odor of stale Speed Stick. Let's move on.
Here we are at the Memorization Library, the second largest room in the Brain. This Library was first developed in 2003 when Devin, then 14, began memorizing every single word he heard on Comedy Central. Here you'll find sections such as "The Simpsons" and "Pretentious Literary Quotations", as well as smaller subsections like "No, Let Me Tell You What Your Exact Words Were" and "Acoustic Alt. Rock Ballads". Take some time to observe the Impressions Annex before continuing on.
Our final stop on the tour is the mail room. All around you you'll see large, towering stacks of Compliments, Positive Opinions, Genuine Words of Affection, Kind Pleasantries and Urgent Paperwork. The Brain enforces a strict, no-delivery policy of these goods.
This concludes your audio tour of Devin's Brain. We hope you enjoyed your visit. Please stop by the gift shop on your way out for some whimsical Internet t-shirts or hats you can't pull off.
As you enter the Brain you'll see that you're passing through the Apathy Foyer. One of the largest rooms in the brain, initial plans for the Foyer were drawn up in 2001 after Devin's realization that Permanent Records did not exist before high school. Initial construction was finished the day before the SATs in 2007, but the structure is under constant expansion. This room is traditionally used for official Brain events, most commonly the weekly "I'll Get Up At Nine and Really Get Some Good Writing Done" late luncheon. Take time to absorb the atmosphere of inactivity before moving on.
As we move through the Brain, notice the portraits that line the hallways. They include Abbott and Costello, Jonathan Winters, Bob and Ray, Sid Caesar, W.C. Fields and Buster Keaton, just to name a few. These are all part of the Brain's "Comedians Devin Really Thinks Are Just Fuckin' Timeless, Man, And Whose Stuff He Would Love To Show You" collection.
As you descend the Staircase of Poor Hand Eye-Coordination you'll arrive at the Brain's gymnasium, a center for all things related to Devin's physical activities. The facilities here have everything an athlete like Devin might need: weight machines that he can't figure out, basketball courts for free-throw shooting only and a hot tub to reward himself after a hard walk to the gymnasium. The Brain's staff of personal trainers subscribe to the Devin Method, a rigorous regimen of I dunno, like, sixty sit-ups and however many push-ups you can do every other day for two weeks or until something comes up.
Feast your eyes upon one of the least advanced areas of the Brain, the Pursuit of the Opposite Sex Observatory. The Observatory is home to a team of thirty scientists who work around the clock on expanding the list of Endearing Self-Depricating Things To Shout At Girls Over Party Music. Notice the signature odor of stale Speed Stick. Let's move on.
Here we are at the Memorization Library, the second largest room in the Brain. This Library was first developed in 2003 when Devin, then 14, began memorizing every single word he heard on Comedy Central. Here you'll find sections such as "The Simpsons" and "Pretentious Literary Quotations", as well as smaller subsections like "No, Let Me Tell You What Your Exact Words Were" and "Acoustic Alt. Rock Ballads". Take some time to observe the Impressions Annex before continuing on.
Our final stop on the tour is the mail room. All around you you'll see large, towering stacks of Compliments, Positive Opinions, Genuine Words of Affection, Kind Pleasantries and Urgent Paperwork. The Brain enforces a strict, no-delivery policy of these goods.
This concludes your audio tour of Devin's Brain. We hope you enjoyed your visit. Please stop by the gift shop on your way out for some whimsical Internet t-shirts or hats you can't pull off.
Monday, March 23, 2009
Letters From The Front
Ken Burns is a liar. In his films on the Civil War, he includes letters from soldiers to their families black home. These letters are always so eloquent that the viewer is forced to reflect on the email they just wrote and how, even in typing, they were too busy to type out all of the word "tomorrow". I present to you here, so as to capture the real tone of the average Joe on the front lines, some Civil War letters from my private imaginary collection.
April 12th, 1861
Dear Wife,
As you can tell by the date written at the top of this letter, the civil war has begun. In decades to come, few will doubt the authenticity of this letter, as it is clearly written on the first day of fighting in the Civil War, which was April 12th 1861. So we're shipping out today towards the south, I don't know exactly where, but I doubt it'll be nice. I don't even know if we get our own tents or what. Plus everyone in my unit is a jackass.
---Paul Waters, Union Army
P.S. This war is gravely sobering.
January 4th, 1862
Dear Wife,
Are you sure you sent my pillow to the right battlefield? I keep asking the Mail Officer, who is in charge of mail, and he says I haven't received any packages. Plus the word is that Jenkins at the next battlefield over just got a really fuckin nice down pillow delivered to him, along with letters from a woman he doesn't know. The rumor is the letters are erotic in nature. So yeah, if you could just check again. I'm in the middle battlefield, not the one on the right or the left.
---Paul Waters, Union Army
P.S. Four of my brothers died today.
July 19th, 1863
Dear Wife,
Holy shit you should've seen the battle today. So I'm like, down in the fuckin trenches, right? And we hear that the Confederates are like, planning some counter-attack. So my Captain's all uh, well, that's bullshit, so we plan a counter-counter attack. I'll skip the boring shit but we made up this plan and we all lined up and we all yelled something together it was totally badass but I forget what it was now. Anyway, we jumped out and just ran, screaming and shooting, and I mean I was hauling ass like a bat out of hell and I'm pretty sure I murdered like twenty-five people. One of them looked like my cousin. Then we won and took the Confederate camp and got to eat all their stew.
---Paul Waters, Union Army
P.S. I've seen things on this field of war that will haunt me until the end of days.
November 3rd, 1863
Dear Wife,
It's cold as hell out here. Everyone's acting all noble and shit, though, and won't admit that everything blows. I'm like hey everybody, I don't have any blankets when the officers get a tent with a lamp! I call bullshit! But nobody backs me up. Plus Matthew Broderick gave all the shoes to the black guys.
---Paul Waters, Union Army
P.S. My dreams are filled with screams.
April 9th, 1865
Dear Wife,
Well, the war is over. Yep. April 9th, 1865. End to all combat in the American Civil War. Anyway, I'm on way home but I don't know where the fuck I am. They won't even give us a ride back to the states we came from. They're like hey there's a train north! and I'm like yeah thanks a fucking bunch not all of us are from New York, dickweed. So I'm on my way, should be home in a few months. I swear to God if you've shacked up with one of those older guys who stayed home I'm gonna be so mad.
---Paul Waters, Union Army
P.S. I am no longer the man you married.
April 12th, 1861
Dear Wife,
As you can tell by the date written at the top of this letter, the civil war has begun. In decades to come, few will doubt the authenticity of this letter, as it is clearly written on the first day of fighting in the Civil War, which was April 12th 1861. So we're shipping out today towards the south, I don't know exactly where, but I doubt it'll be nice. I don't even know if we get our own tents or what. Plus everyone in my unit is a jackass.
---Paul Waters, Union Army
P.S. This war is gravely sobering.
January 4th, 1862
Dear Wife,
Are you sure you sent my pillow to the right battlefield? I keep asking the Mail Officer, who is in charge of mail, and he says I haven't received any packages. Plus the word is that Jenkins at the next battlefield over just got a really fuckin nice down pillow delivered to him, along with letters from a woman he doesn't know. The rumor is the letters are erotic in nature. So yeah, if you could just check again. I'm in the middle battlefield, not the one on the right or the left.
---Paul Waters, Union Army
P.S. Four of my brothers died today.
July 19th, 1863
Dear Wife,
Holy shit you should've seen the battle today. So I'm like, down in the fuckin trenches, right? And we hear that the Confederates are like, planning some counter-attack. So my Captain's all uh, well, that's bullshit, so we plan a counter-counter attack. I'll skip the boring shit but we made up this plan and we all lined up and we all yelled something together it was totally badass but I forget what it was now. Anyway, we jumped out and just ran, screaming and shooting, and I mean I was hauling ass like a bat out of hell and I'm pretty sure I murdered like twenty-five people. One of them looked like my cousin. Then we won and took the Confederate camp and got to eat all their stew.
---Paul Waters, Union Army
P.S. I've seen things on this field of war that will haunt me until the end of days.
November 3rd, 1863
Dear Wife,
It's cold as hell out here. Everyone's acting all noble and shit, though, and won't admit that everything blows. I'm like hey everybody, I don't have any blankets when the officers get a tent with a lamp! I call bullshit! But nobody backs me up. Plus Matthew Broderick gave all the shoes to the black guys.
---Paul Waters, Union Army
P.S. My dreams are filled with screams.
April 9th, 1865
Dear Wife,
Well, the war is over. Yep. April 9th, 1865. End to all combat in the American Civil War. Anyway, I'm on way home but I don't know where the fuck I am. They won't even give us a ride back to the states we came from. They're like hey there's a train north! and I'm like yeah thanks a fucking bunch not all of us are from New York, dickweed. So I'm on my way, should be home in a few months. I swear to God if you've shacked up with one of those older guys who stayed home I'm gonna be so mad.
---Paul Waters, Union Army
P.S. I am no longer the man you married.
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Rations
SHUT THE DOOR SHUT THE DOOR SHUT THE DOOR! Oh my god oh my god LOCK IT! Oh god. They’re not far behind. I made it. Jesus I made it. Fuck. That was close.
It’s all still fucked out there. They’re in all the major streets, hundreds of them, just walking around, man, it’s insane. The undead, in our neighborhood. Still tough to get over.
I got to the mall no problem, managed to outrun them there, found a side door that was open. I loaded as many provisions as I could into this box. It slowed me down on the way back, and I’ll be damned if they didn’t almost get me, but the important thing here is we’ve got the provisions we need.
What? Is there some kind of problem here? Hello? Supplies? I mean I know it’s not much but it’s all the essentials I could carry. So yeah, take your pick of any of this but we should probably ration it.
I’m sorry Greg, is there a problem here? Yes I grabbed food. You’re staring at it. Oh I’m sorry, apparently Bacon Ranch flavored Pringles aren’t food. I got enough cans of that stuff to last us for weeks, and they won’t spoil. Didn’t expect hostility on that one but ok, fine, I guess they’re not everyone’s cup of tea.
Speaking of which, there’s some diet green tea Nestea in there.
Yes, Greg, there is more in here. The diet green tee and the Baby Bottle Pops are the new food supplies, but if that’s not up to your standards, let’s see…here. The Worst Case Scenario Handbook. Tons of stuff in there, guaranteed to help.
What? A fake book? The very real advice in this book is hardly fake, Greg. Fuckin…look! Page 94: How To Escape From Killer Bees. Knowledge is power, Greg, and I’m trying to educate you.
Ok now what is---oh fuck you, Greg, what is that look for? You think I didn’t bring back weapons, don’t you? I don’t believe this. Yeah, that’s exactly what happened. I went all the way there and forgot the most important thing. Why don’t you check the damn bottom of the box there, smartass. Straight from the office supply section, fully loaded staplers, four of them. Perfect improvised weapon.
Are you joking? Are you fucking with me now, man? Everyone knows you hold a stapler the right way and IT. SHOOTS. STAPLES. I don’t see how firing sharp metal at a zombie’s head is a negative! The force alone would---alright. I guess those don’t go very far.
No, you know what, forget it you guys. You know, you try to do something nice and you get crucified for it. Alright, maybe I didn’t pick out the most obvious items or whatever, but at least I went out there! Forgive me if I wasn’t aware of the absurdly high standards that had been set. We don’t all just have hockey sticks laying around our hip studio apartments, Greg! I risked my ass for you guys! I put my life on the line! I snuck out the back gate, ran through the streets, went to the ma---
Oh shit…somebody go check, I don’t know for sure if I shut the back gate. Man that’s like worrying about leaving the stove on, isn’t it? Just can’t shake it. Pretty sure it’s closed though. Pretty sure.
It’s all still fucked out there. They’re in all the major streets, hundreds of them, just walking around, man, it’s insane. The undead, in our neighborhood. Still tough to get over.
I got to the mall no problem, managed to outrun them there, found a side door that was open. I loaded as many provisions as I could into this box. It slowed me down on the way back, and I’ll be damned if they didn’t almost get me, but the important thing here is we’ve got the provisions we need.
What? Is there some kind of problem here? Hello? Supplies? I mean I know it’s not much but it’s all the essentials I could carry. So yeah, take your pick of any of this but we should probably ration it.
I’m sorry Greg, is there a problem here? Yes I grabbed food. You’re staring at it. Oh I’m sorry, apparently Bacon Ranch flavored Pringles aren’t food. I got enough cans of that stuff to last us for weeks, and they won’t spoil. Didn’t expect hostility on that one but ok, fine, I guess they’re not everyone’s cup of tea.
Speaking of which, there’s some diet green tea Nestea in there.
Yes, Greg, there is more in here. The diet green tee and the Baby Bottle Pops are the new food supplies, but if that’s not up to your standards, let’s see…here. The Worst Case Scenario Handbook. Tons of stuff in there, guaranteed to help.
What? A fake book? The very real advice in this book is hardly fake, Greg. Fuckin…look! Page 94: How To Escape From Killer Bees. Knowledge is power, Greg, and I’m trying to educate you.
Ok now what is---oh fuck you, Greg, what is that look for? You think I didn’t bring back weapons, don’t you? I don’t believe this. Yeah, that’s exactly what happened. I went all the way there and forgot the most important thing. Why don’t you check the damn bottom of the box there, smartass. Straight from the office supply section, fully loaded staplers, four of them. Perfect improvised weapon.
Are you joking? Are you fucking with me now, man? Everyone knows you hold a stapler the right way and IT. SHOOTS. STAPLES. I don’t see how firing sharp metal at a zombie’s head is a negative! The force alone would---alright. I guess those don’t go very far.
No, you know what, forget it you guys. You know, you try to do something nice and you get crucified for it. Alright, maybe I didn’t pick out the most obvious items or whatever, but at least I went out there! Forgive me if I wasn’t aware of the absurdly high standards that had been set. We don’t all just have hockey sticks laying around our hip studio apartments, Greg! I risked my ass for you guys! I put my life on the line! I snuck out the back gate, ran through the streets, went to the ma---
Oh shit…somebody go check, I don’t know for sure if I shut the back gate. Man that’s like worrying about leaving the stove on, isn’t it? Just can’t shake it. Pretty sure it’s closed though. Pretty sure.
Friday, February 27, 2009
Television Cops
City streetcorner. Two detectives stand over a corpse covered in glass, sipping coffee and looking up. Another stands by taking notes. A fourth scans the ground, wearing gloves.
ONE: Looks like this guy should’ve taken the stairs.
TWO: Mmm.
THREE: Boy, it’s a good thing I got a chance to look into this guy’s background. Pretty interesting stuff.
ONE: Sure.
FOUR: Got three .22 shell casings over here next to this dumpster.
THREE: Arthur Cosgrove was his name. A big time real-estate developer.
TWO: Well I bet his rise to the top took a lot longer than his fall to the bottom.
ONE: Nice.
TWO: Mmm.
FOUR: Following the general line of trajectory, we got another seven shell casings over here by the storm drain.
THREE: Yeah, he’s really important. Made a fortune in properties on the west side.
ONE: Should’ve invested some of that in a parachute.
TWO: Or a safety net.
One and Two bump their coffee cups together.
FOUR: Got two shell casings stuck to the bottom of my shoe.
THREE: So…does anybody want to ask me about this guy’s past or anything? I…I have all these notes.
ONE: I told you guys, I don’t like pancakes for breakfast.
TWO: What do panca---oh I see what you did.
ONE: I know, takes a minute.
THREE: You know this guy’s personal life could have some potential clues about possible suspects. Just saying.
FOUR: This is either a new shell casing or the one I was just looking at.
TWO: I thought they passed that ordinance outlawing sidewalk art.
ONE: Mmm. Not your best.
THREE: I bet you guys are curious about whether or not he had any enemies. Because…you know…the better question really is did he have any friends? You know what I mean?
TWO: How could I change that one so it worked?
ONE: It was too long. They’re quips. Brevity is important.
THREE: Because everyone hated him. So he had very few friends, is what I’m saying.
FOUR: Guys, can you move please? You’re standing on at least 50 .22 shell casings.
TWO: Now is that 50 shell casings from a .22? Or shell casings from a gun I’ve never heard of?
ONE: Stick to quips, Jerry. Stick to what you understand.
TWO: Sorry.
THREE: Whoa! You guys won’t believe what it says here about his romantic relationships! I mean, there were a lot. Let’s just say this guy was an expert and the horizontal mambo and the bait and switch!
FOUR: These are pennies, but let’s note them down as shell casings anyway.
TWO: I was thinking about trying something with a falling-out-the-window angle. You know, but still joke-y in tone?
ONE: Be patient. It’ll come.
THREE: He had sex with a lot of women is what I was getting at there.
A fifth cop walks in.
FIVE: Whattaya got?
ONE: Sarge, we got a hold on this case as good as gravity’s hold on this poor chump.
TWO: Damn, that was perfect.
ONE: It’s really just a matter of narrowing down who may have pushed him.
FIVE: What? You guys aren’t on the suicide! That’s over, he left a note, we’re just waiting on the coroner. You’re figuring out who shot that guy!
TWO: Whoa, is that a dead guy behind that dumpster?
FOUR: I wondered why he had no bullet wounds…
ONE: I…I don’t have any shooting jokes.
ONE: Looks like this guy should’ve taken the stairs.
TWO: Mmm.
THREE: Boy, it’s a good thing I got a chance to look into this guy’s background. Pretty interesting stuff.
ONE: Sure.
FOUR: Got three .22 shell casings over here next to this dumpster.
THREE: Arthur Cosgrove was his name. A big time real-estate developer.
TWO: Well I bet his rise to the top took a lot longer than his fall to the bottom.
ONE: Nice.
TWO: Mmm.
FOUR: Following the general line of trajectory, we got another seven shell casings over here by the storm drain.
THREE: Yeah, he’s really important. Made a fortune in properties on the west side.
ONE: Should’ve invested some of that in a parachute.
TWO: Or a safety net.
One and Two bump their coffee cups together.
FOUR: Got two shell casings stuck to the bottom of my shoe.
THREE: So…does anybody want to ask me about this guy’s past or anything? I…I have all these notes.
ONE: I told you guys, I don’t like pancakes for breakfast.
TWO: What do panca---oh I see what you did.
ONE: I know, takes a minute.
THREE: You know this guy’s personal life could have some potential clues about possible suspects. Just saying.
FOUR: This is either a new shell casing or the one I was just looking at.
TWO: I thought they passed that ordinance outlawing sidewalk art.
ONE: Mmm. Not your best.
THREE: I bet you guys are curious about whether or not he had any enemies. Because…you know…the better question really is did he have any friends? You know what I mean?
TWO: How could I change that one so it worked?
ONE: It was too long. They’re quips. Brevity is important.
THREE: Because everyone hated him. So he had very few friends, is what I’m saying.
FOUR: Guys, can you move please? You’re standing on at least 50 .22 shell casings.
TWO: Now is that 50 shell casings from a .22? Or shell casings from a gun I’ve never heard of?
ONE: Stick to quips, Jerry. Stick to what you understand.
TWO: Sorry.
THREE: Whoa! You guys won’t believe what it says here about his romantic relationships! I mean, there were a lot. Let’s just say this guy was an expert and the horizontal mambo and the bait and switch!
FOUR: These are pennies, but let’s note them down as shell casings anyway.
TWO: I was thinking about trying something with a falling-out-the-window angle. You know, but still joke-y in tone?
ONE: Be patient. It’ll come.
THREE: He had sex with a lot of women is what I was getting at there.
A fifth cop walks in.
FIVE: Whattaya got?
ONE: Sarge, we got a hold on this case as good as gravity’s hold on this poor chump.
TWO: Damn, that was perfect.
ONE: It’s really just a matter of narrowing down who may have pushed him.
FIVE: What? You guys aren’t on the suicide! That’s over, he left a note, we’re just waiting on the coroner. You’re figuring out who shot that guy!
TWO: Whoa, is that a dead guy behind that dumpster?
FOUR: I wondered why he had no bullet wounds…
ONE: I…I don’t have any shooting jokes.
Sunday, February 15, 2009
Things That Happen To Me The Day I Cut My Fingernails
AT THE CINGULAR STORE
ME: Hi, I've been having some problems with my phone.
EMPLOYEE: Ok...looks like your problem is the battery. All you have to do is reach in there and pry the battery out of it's incredibly tight casing and then put it back in.
ME: Is there any way you could do that for me?
EMPLOYEE: Sir, I don't get paid to hold your hand.
IN THE BEDROOM
HOT GIRL: Devin, you've been very patient over the last six months, and now I think I'm finally ready.
ME: Wow. This is going to be incredible.
HOT GIRL: Oh wait, I almost forgot. I bought this Marvin Gaye CD just for tonight. If you can just get it out of it's security packaging we can get to all seven hours of that hot sex we're gonna have.
ME: Um...can we do it without the music?
HOT GIRL: Well...I guess so. Go ahead and open the condom.
ME: I'll call you in a week.
AT THE DOCTOR'S OFFICE
DOCTOR: Mr. Field, it appears that your entire body is riddled with cancer. Luckily, we have some medication for it. If you simply remove five of these capsules from their plastic covering and take them immediately, you may have a shot.
ME: Please open these pills for me.
DOCTOR: Do I look like a fucking pediatrician to you?
AT HOME
PAST ME: Wow. That was easy.
TIME-TRAVELING ME: What was?
PAST ME: Oh, just opening the packaging on those new fingernail clippers.
TIME-TRAVELING ME: I have so much to warn you about.
ME: Hi, I've been having some problems with my phone.
EMPLOYEE: Ok...looks like your problem is the battery. All you have to do is reach in there and pry the battery out of it's incredibly tight casing and then put it back in.
ME: Is there any way you could do that for me?
EMPLOYEE: Sir, I don't get paid to hold your hand.
IN THE BEDROOM
HOT GIRL: Devin, you've been very patient over the last six months, and now I think I'm finally ready.
ME: Wow. This is going to be incredible.
HOT GIRL: Oh wait, I almost forgot. I bought this Marvin Gaye CD just for tonight. If you can just get it out of it's security packaging we can get to all seven hours of that hot sex we're gonna have.
ME: Um...can we do it without the music?
HOT GIRL: Well...I guess so. Go ahead and open the condom.
ME: I'll call you in a week.
AT THE DOCTOR'S OFFICE
DOCTOR: Mr. Field, it appears that your entire body is riddled with cancer. Luckily, we have some medication for it. If you simply remove five of these capsules from their plastic covering and take them immediately, you may have a shot.
ME: Please open these pills for me.
DOCTOR: Do I look like a fucking pediatrician to you?
AT HOME
PAST ME: Wow. That was easy.
TIME-TRAVELING ME: What was?
PAST ME: Oh, just opening the packaging on those new fingernail clippers.
TIME-TRAVELING ME: I have so much to warn you about.
Monday, February 9, 2009
Meeting with the Editor
"Bleak House is the ninth novel by Charles Dickens, published in twenty monthly installments between March 1852 and September 1853...Dickens claimed in the preface to the volume edition of Bleak House that he had "purposely dwelt upon the romantic side of familiar things". And some remarkable things do happen: One character, Krook, smells of brimstone and eventually dies of spontaneous human combustion, attributed to his evil nature. Using spontaneous human combustion to dispose of Krook in the story was controversial."
---From the Wikipedia entry for Bleak House
---From the Wikipedia entry for Bleak House
---Mr. Dickens, we need this month's Bleak House installment if we want to make the printing date.
---Of course, of course. I've got it right here.
---Excellent. What's the gist of it?
---Pretty standard really. A lot like the other installments. More intrigue, inter-familial struggle...
---Excuse me, Mr. Dickens...what is this passage here about Krook?
---Oh yeah, I'm killing him off this month.
---If I'm reading this right, he just...catches on fire?
---It's a real thing. I looked it up.
---It just seems to come out of nowhere.
---No, see, remember how I set up last month that he smells like Brimstone all the time? Plus he's evil.
---Mr. Dickens, this is completely absurd. I don't know that I can publish it.
---Oh...
---What is it?
---Next month when Esther finds out that Ada and Richard are secretly married she picks up objects with her mind and kills everybody.
---You can keep one.
---I'd like to keep Krook blowing up.
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
The Meaning Of Life, As Developed By My Philosophy Discussion Section
Fundamentally, there isn't like, a certain meaning to life, per se. But, you know, at the same time, it's like, there must be an intrinsic value to life itself, right? Because really, the absence of life is nothing, or death, as it were. Therefore there is value in simply living and stuff.
Ok, I mean like...say you get in a coma, right? And when you're in your coma, you're totally out for...let's say 15 years. Then you wake up. Thusly, that's valuable, is essentially what I'm getting at here. But fundamentally, it all gets back to the biforcation between practical realism and existentialist expressionism.
Because what I'm saying here is if you touch one person and make them happy at one point, doesn't that increase the amount of intrinsic happiness and intrinsic value of life on earth as a whole? Except like, at the end of it all the sun will explode, so who will be around to remember? And is that important? Yes.
Say you have Alzheimer's, right? And somebody comes along and gives you a sandwich. That's still important, even if you won't remember the sandwich, because that happened, and that gives that moment intrinsic value and weight, is what I'm saying. Fundamentally, the concept of not remembering something relates directly back to the Matrix scenario, where you've got the two pills, and I think Tolstoy is definitely someone who would have taken the one that let you be all ignorant.
And really, you know, different societies are at different stages, so our society might currently be in a societal state of the later identity crisis, or the mid-life crisis, as a society, but another society in like, Africa or something, would still be behind as a society and thereby only in the second societal identity crisis, which is like a state of adolescence for that society. But who are we to say that that gives their lives less meaning? Poor people are often some of the world's bravest heroes, because they accept death, which happens to everyone.
Say you spend your entire life working on a cure for cancer, right? And you slave away for decades, and you finally develop it, and it works. But for some reason you take like, a month off to test it again. And in the last week of that month you get a phone call and your friend tells you that somebody else just published an identical cure for cancer. And then you get hit by a bus. And your family gets amnesia. Fundamentally, your life was meaningless, but also intrinsically not.
So, on a fundamental level, yes, life is meaningless, but at the same time, it also has meaning.
Ok, I mean like...say you get in a coma, right? And when you're in your coma, you're totally out for...let's say 15 years. Then you wake up. Thusly, that's valuable, is essentially what I'm getting at here. But fundamentally, it all gets back to the biforcation between practical realism and existentialist expressionism.
Because what I'm saying here is if you touch one person and make them happy at one point, doesn't that increase the amount of intrinsic happiness and intrinsic value of life on earth as a whole? Except like, at the end of it all the sun will explode, so who will be around to remember? And is that important? Yes.
Say you have Alzheimer's, right? And somebody comes along and gives you a sandwich. That's still important, even if you won't remember the sandwich, because that happened, and that gives that moment intrinsic value and weight, is what I'm saying. Fundamentally, the concept of not remembering something relates directly back to the Matrix scenario, where you've got the two pills, and I think Tolstoy is definitely someone who would have taken the one that let you be all ignorant.
And really, you know, different societies are at different stages, so our society might currently be in a societal state of the later identity crisis, or the mid-life crisis, as a society, but another society in like, Africa or something, would still be behind as a society and thereby only in the second societal identity crisis, which is like a state of adolescence for that society. But who are we to say that that gives their lives less meaning? Poor people are often some of the world's bravest heroes, because they accept death, which happens to everyone.
Say you spend your entire life working on a cure for cancer, right? And you slave away for decades, and you finally develop it, and it works. But for some reason you take like, a month off to test it again. And in the last week of that month you get a phone call and your friend tells you that somebody else just published an identical cure for cancer. And then you get hit by a bus. And your family gets amnesia. Fundamentally, your life was meaningless, but also intrinsically not.
So, on a fundamental level, yes, life is meaningless, but at the same time, it also has meaning.
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Members of the Board
Esteemed members of the board, welcome. I trust you have all enjoyed the blintzes and fresh squeezed juices. I am scheduled to speak for the next twenty to thirty minutes about our financial earnings for the previous fiscal year and strategies for restoring the faith of our shareholders. I will not be speaking to you about that today. Instead I will be describing to you why I have made the choice, as of, oh, two hours ago, to leave this company, my family and the country and begin a new life. You will listen in quiet and respectful attention. Snacks may still be enjoyed freely.
It began when I reached my first position of senior management. After a few weeks of work, I realized that my job essentially consisted of delegating rather than actually working. My subordinates would simply accomplish all my tasks. Hours of sitting alone in my office doing nothing left me feeling empty. Not knowing what it was I wanted or needed, I filled the void of activity with petty theft. A stapler here, a pack of instant coffee there. After two months my desk was filled with more toner than I could ever dream of. Our office supply budget skyrocketed, yet I continued through pure compulsion.
At first I thought my family was to blame, and I still don’t think I was too far off on that one. The emptiness in my career was present in my relationships with my children. Daniel, my oldest, was sent to boarding school after being caught using drugs. Seeing how effective this punishment was, at least for me, I became a little over-zealous and used it on my other children. I sent Warren to St. Francis Reformatory after he scratched the side of my car with his bike. Jonathon was shipped away to a catholic school in England whose name I do not remember because he forgot to walk the dog. I registered Harold for the Marine Corps after he left the back door open. I had to forge a birth certificate for that, seeing as he was fifteen at the time. But all of this was only a temporary fix.
Meanwhile, back at the office I began keeping alcohol in my desk and forcing employees to do my stealing for me. Some of you in this room assisted me, and I not apologize for making you do so, as I believe it built character. I also developed an addiction to internet pornography.
As the emptiness consumed me more and more, my marriage suffered. Jeanine and I rarely spoke to one another, and on at least several occasions when we did I failed to recognize her. When we would make love it would be laborious, violent and full of verbal abuse. We each began using sex as a form of revenge on one another. Both of us pursued extramarital affairs but simply ended up sleeping with each other, convinced that we were in fact sleeping with another person.
My life was hollow and unsatisfying. I began more actively questioning my purpose on this earth, often under the influence of hallucinogens. I stole more and more, larger items now. I would spend weeks under my desk, thinking it had been a few hours. My wife would call, complaining about children of ours whose names I did not recognize. I became a vegan.
Gentlemen, it was at this time that I had my epiphany. One day, or possibly night, I was locked in my office in the throes of a mescaline binge switching my attention between two televisions that I had stolen the week before. On one of them I watched Eastern European veterinary porn, on the other, Nick at Nite. Suddenly, during a commercial break, an advertisement came on for Sandals resorts in Jamaica. Simultaneously, the Hungarian pornographic actress Piroska Varga entered a scene. The sunny beaches of Jamaica, the leather bodice of Ms. Varga and the heavy dosage of mescaline combined in a glorious flash of realization. It all made sense. My life had been empty because, although I had been giving into many of my base desires, I had not combined my most simple and socially acceptable desires with my most grotesque and depraved. Gentlemen, that is when I decided to go to Sandals Jamaica with Piroska Varga and any animals she may wish to accompany us.
I feel better now than I ever have. Gentleman, I searched for years for meaning and finally found it in pure, unadulterated hedonism. Now my life has purpose.
I have left no forwarding address. Once I finish this sentence, I will walk out of this room, meet my driver and Ms. Varga and head straight for the airport, never to return, and every single one of you will be dead to me.
It began when I reached my first position of senior management. After a few weeks of work, I realized that my job essentially consisted of delegating rather than actually working. My subordinates would simply accomplish all my tasks. Hours of sitting alone in my office doing nothing left me feeling empty. Not knowing what it was I wanted or needed, I filled the void of activity with petty theft. A stapler here, a pack of instant coffee there. After two months my desk was filled with more toner than I could ever dream of. Our office supply budget skyrocketed, yet I continued through pure compulsion.
At first I thought my family was to blame, and I still don’t think I was too far off on that one. The emptiness in my career was present in my relationships with my children. Daniel, my oldest, was sent to boarding school after being caught using drugs. Seeing how effective this punishment was, at least for me, I became a little over-zealous and used it on my other children. I sent Warren to St. Francis Reformatory after he scratched the side of my car with his bike. Jonathon was shipped away to a catholic school in England whose name I do not remember because he forgot to walk the dog. I registered Harold for the Marine Corps after he left the back door open. I had to forge a birth certificate for that, seeing as he was fifteen at the time. But all of this was only a temporary fix.
Meanwhile, back at the office I began keeping alcohol in my desk and forcing employees to do my stealing for me. Some of you in this room assisted me, and I not apologize for making you do so, as I believe it built character. I also developed an addiction to internet pornography.
As the emptiness consumed me more and more, my marriage suffered. Jeanine and I rarely spoke to one another, and on at least several occasions when we did I failed to recognize her. When we would make love it would be laborious, violent and full of verbal abuse. We each began using sex as a form of revenge on one another. Both of us pursued extramarital affairs but simply ended up sleeping with each other, convinced that we were in fact sleeping with another person.
My life was hollow and unsatisfying. I began more actively questioning my purpose on this earth, often under the influence of hallucinogens. I stole more and more, larger items now. I would spend weeks under my desk, thinking it had been a few hours. My wife would call, complaining about children of ours whose names I did not recognize. I became a vegan.
Gentlemen, it was at this time that I had my epiphany. One day, or possibly night, I was locked in my office in the throes of a mescaline binge switching my attention between two televisions that I had stolen the week before. On one of them I watched Eastern European veterinary porn, on the other, Nick at Nite. Suddenly, during a commercial break, an advertisement came on for Sandals resorts in Jamaica. Simultaneously, the Hungarian pornographic actress Piroska Varga entered a scene. The sunny beaches of Jamaica, the leather bodice of Ms. Varga and the heavy dosage of mescaline combined in a glorious flash of realization. It all made sense. My life had been empty because, although I had been giving into many of my base desires, I had not combined my most simple and socially acceptable desires with my most grotesque and depraved. Gentlemen, that is when I decided to go to Sandals Jamaica with Piroska Varga and any animals she may wish to accompany us.
I feel better now than I ever have. Gentleman, I searched for years for meaning and finally found it in pure, unadulterated hedonism. Now my life has purpose.
I have left no forwarding address. Once I finish this sentence, I will walk out of this room, meet my driver and Ms. Varga and head straight for the airport, never to return, and every single one of you will be dead to me.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
What I'm Thinking While Watching British Period Dramas
ENGLISH DRAWING ROOM
--Oh Sarah, I struggle with my feelings. Reginald infuriates me with his callous rudeness, his cold demeanor and his upbringing, yet the memory of our shared line-dancing experience at the Earl's ball leaves me breathless whene'er I recall it!
--Emma, do not say such things! You are betrothed to Lord Fauntberry! His affection for you is as great as his facial hair!
--I do know this to be the truth, Sarah, yet my emotions lead me elsewhere. As frustrating as Reginald can be, my heart leads me to him again and again.
--And not to Lord Fauntberry?!
--Indeed not! Oh Sarah, whatever shall I do?
SMASH CUT TO SIERRA LEONE
--I have no food for today, just as yesterday.
--My only food source may very well become the corpse of my first-born. But first I must journey twenty miles to water.
--I would accompany you, but I doubt I would survive the journey due to my severe dysentery.
--What are the British doing about our living conditions?
--They are making us work more.
--I am dead.
CUT BACK TO ENGLISH DRAWING ROOM
--Oh Sarah, in my foolish, romantic haze I have set the forks on the right side of the place settings!
--Our existence is tortured and profound!
--Oh Sarah, I struggle with my feelings. Reginald infuriates me with his callous rudeness, his cold demeanor and his upbringing, yet the memory of our shared line-dancing experience at the Earl's ball leaves me breathless whene'er I recall it!
--Emma, do not say such things! You are betrothed to Lord Fauntberry! His affection for you is as great as his facial hair!
--I do know this to be the truth, Sarah, yet my emotions lead me elsewhere. As frustrating as Reginald can be, my heart leads me to him again and again.
--And not to Lord Fauntberry?!
--Indeed not! Oh Sarah, whatever shall I do?
SMASH CUT TO SIERRA LEONE
--I have no food for today, just as yesterday.
--My only food source may very well become the corpse of my first-born. But first I must journey twenty miles to water.
--I would accompany you, but I doubt I would survive the journey due to my severe dysentery.
--What are the British doing about our living conditions?
--They are making us work more.
--I am dead.
CUT BACK TO ENGLISH DRAWING ROOM
--Oh Sarah, in my foolish, romantic haze I have set the forks on the right side of the place settings!
--Our existence is tortured and profound!
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Deathbed
FATHER: Children, I feel death drawing ever nearer.
DAUGHTER: What can we do, Dad?
FATHER: Come closer to me. Let me tell you of my life's proudest moment.
SON: You mean the publication of your novel?
FATHER: No.
DAUGHTER: The birth of us?
FATHER: No.
SON: What then?
FATHER: This one time...at a party...in college...a young woman walked in wearing a vest...
SON: Go on, Dad.
FATHER: She looked around the room...confused...as if searching for something. And she asked..."Has anyone seen my vest?"....and in front of everyone...I totally yelled out..."Did you check your torso?"
DAUGHTER: Wh--what? That's it?
FATHER: Everyone totally lost it. The sheer timing of the delivery...it was unbelievable.
SON: That's all you had to tell us?
FATHER: I'm slipping away. My will is there on the table.
SON: Dad, there's nothing in here about either of us. Where's our inheritance?
FATHER: Check....your....torsos!
DAUGHTER: What can we do, Dad?
FATHER: Come closer to me. Let me tell you of my life's proudest moment.
SON: You mean the publication of your novel?
FATHER: No.
DAUGHTER: The birth of us?
FATHER: No.
SON: What then?
FATHER: This one time...at a party...in college...a young woman walked in wearing a vest...
SON: Go on, Dad.
FATHER: She looked around the room...confused...as if searching for something. And she asked..."Has anyone seen my vest?"....and in front of everyone...I totally yelled out..."Did you check your torso?"
DAUGHTER: Wh--what? That's it?
FATHER: Everyone totally lost it. The sheer timing of the delivery...it was unbelievable.
SON: That's all you had to tell us?
FATHER: I'm slipping away. My will is there on the table.
SON: Dad, there's nothing in here about either of us. Where's our inheritance?
FATHER: Check....your....torsos!
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