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Putt-putt

If you’ve been reading this site recently or not reading it, which happens a lot, you are aware that some wires were yanked out or chewed on causing new posts not to appear in the reader.

The brilliant and macabre photo-lovin’ Angie Z suggested sending out a flood of quick posts to unclog the internet tubes. “You don’t have to write too much,” Angie said. “Maybe just ‘fart’.”

So that’s what this is. A fart, or putt-putt if you are sophisticated or easily offended by the word f–t.

There’s also this:

This was posted on someone’s Facebook wall. And, well, um, it’s. . . uh. . . nice? Sure, we’ll say nice and leave it at that.

Please excuse my putt-putt.

 

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Facebook Facepalm

National Public Radio aired a story offering friendly advice to teachers about posting on Facebook. The basic premise is that teachers don’t have the same leeway as others because of the nature of the job. So this status update would not be the best choice:

Neither would this photo:

The story went on to give examples of teachers who lost their jobs over such infractions as calling homosexuality a “perverted sin,” referring to their students as “future criminals” and posting photos of themselves covered in chocolate sauce gyrating next to a stripper.

Fair enough.

Now I don’t want to seem like a scold or anti-freedomy™, but broadcasting your awfulness to the world is not always the right course of action especially when your job is to teach students to take tests made up by people seeking to annihilate all forms of public education. I’ll admit I like to cover myself in applesauce while gyrating next to stuffed animals I dressed up as strippers–in fact I’m doing it right now–the difference is I don’t take pictures of it or let people know about it…oh, sh*t. Unlike.

But should this just be applicable to teachers? Yes, teachers are revered in our society–just ask Wisconsin Gov. Scott Walker, but if I am not allowed to call my students sludge buckets for the entire world to see, why are you allowed to inundate me with updates about your hiccups?

Now this has never been done before–a blog first, or blirst™–but I’m about to devise a list of Facebook Etiquette, or Facebookquette…no, that doesn’t work…how ’bout Speaker7’s Guide to Non-Asshattery on Facebookery? Score. I’m going to trademark it. ™

Speaker7’s Guide to Non-Asshattery on Facebookery or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb™:

  • Don’t write about your hiccups. Or that you’re tired or hungry or yearning to be free. No one cares, unless you’re an actual baby. Then I would be impressed by your ability to spell hiccups, and I would steal you away for an appearance on the Today show calling you the Facebaby™.
  • Don’t post photographs of your fabulous vacation destination that looks nothing like the hellhole I call home. I can’t afford a vacation, jerk, so thanks for rubbing it in my facebook. Oh, you’re not home? I’m going to go break into your house.
  • Don’t post that you’re going to break into someone’s house. That’s going to get you arrested, and you saw how hard that was for Paris Hilton. She’s a warrior.
  • Don’t call Paris Hilton a warrior. Even though you are kidding, humor doesn’t translate well on Facebook, and people will think you’re stupid and out of touch. Paris Hilton is sooooo 2000.
  • Don’t write FML about anything unless you a literally fucking your life, and if you are doing that, post pictures.
  • Don’t write angry diatribes about slut women or gay immigrants under my status update about watching the Republican debate and vomiting into a bucket. We clearly don’t see things from the same perspective, and ranting like a dehydrated former child star won’t change things.
  • And finally, never use Facebook.


A Pink Slip Isn’t Pink

So you’ve just been handed a letter. You may be confused at first. You thought pink slips were pink. That’s what television has taught you–that, and when you stand up to someone, someone else will inevitably start a slow clap, which builds to thunderous applause.

This slip is white, and it’s not a slip, but just a piece of high-end letterhead. Wait, shouldn’t we use random scraps of paper, preferably used coffee filters and toilet paper toss offs, especially since we are in a budget crunch? Let’s focus. The pinkish-hued white letter slip reads that your employer may not meet be able to meet its contractual obligation for the next school year with regard to your employment. Huh?

You might be fired.

Like this:

Oh, and I just bought a $702 toilet, you say. The man who gave you the letter looks at you strangely. You realize that wasn’t the response you wanted to give even though you did just purchase a $702 toilet.

These are bad economic times, and you are in a profession that many people think is irrelevant because of the Internet, so you knew this was coming. That doesn’t mean that you can’t handle the news with panache.

Here are 10,000 or maybe 6 (it depends on how tired I am and/or how much wine I drink) tips to follow when given a pinkish-hued white letter slip of laid-offness:

  • Try not to throw yourself on the ground and thrash about. This could cause rug burn or floor burn if your floor is sans rug. You might get a staple embedded in your back or someone’s toenail. Toenails fall off at an alarming rate. If you feel compelled to thrash, go outside and roll around in the grass, unless you’re wearing white. Who wears white after Labor Day? When can we wear white? The day before Labor Day, and then never again? So many questions. Look out for dog crap
  • Don’t cry. What are you John Boehner? He cries when he runs out of a tissues, which is hourly, friend. If you feel the tears brimming and the bottom lip shaking, excuse yourself by saying “Oh, I think a bee just flew up my nose” or “I just saw kids running” or “I just heard Danny Boy.” Whatever, just think of something to get you out of the room. “Hey everybody, half-priced toilets at Target! Let’s go!”
  • Sure it sucks, but this is not the time to tell the world what you think of it–that’s reserved for when you are delivering a drunken toast at a wedding. You’re still not technically fired so going through a bullet by bullet list of why the person who gave you the letter sucks bees is not the way to go–unless someone else is around to give the slow clap. Do anything and everything to get the slow clap.
  • Don’t post on Facebook that your boss is Satan. Yes, your boss is Satan but your future Satanic boss will ask you for your password to Facebook.
  • Do buy a Mega Millions lottery ticket. If you win $540 million, you can call anyone Satan.
  • Don’t plan a Twilight wedding and changed your surname to “Cullen”. This has nothing to do with this post, but in general, just don’t do it. The world thanks you.
  • Do use your laidoffness as an excuse to not do anything like cook. We’ve been eating out a lot, and it’s been fantastic.
  • Do plan for the future, e.g., I plan to drink this second glass of wine, cry while watching Dance Moms and pass out.

Slow clap.

Stop the (Word)Presses!!!

Can we do that? Because we need to stop everything right now! Right. Now.

I have a HUGE announcement.

So stop. Stop it. Stop. Stop it. Stop doing that, whatever you happen to be doing. Stop breathing…no wait, you still need to do that. Okay, you can do the things that the body does unconsciously like beating the heart, eliminating waste and downloading porn on the Internet.

Are you ready????? I can barely contain my excitement. This is almost as big as that press conference when Obama announced the American Pie franchise was releasing its 4th movie American [insert title].

The Today show has an exclusive interview with that guy who shot bullets into his daughter’s laptop!?! Exclusive!!!!! Exclusive means this is the only place you will see this guy talk about stuff, and OH MY GOD!!!!! his daughter will be there too. So you can listen to this guy AND his daughter EXCLUSIVELY on the Today show tomorrow morning.

This is nearly as exciting as me nailing an exclusive interview with the guy who threw a Slim Jim wrapper in my front yard (I’m still working on it. Be patient. I will get that exclusive interview if it kills me).

I almost missed the announcement of this exclusive interview. I’ve been watching the Today show since 7 a.m., and the promo has only been shown 4,568 times in the last five minutes.

Matt Lauer is going to be sitting in a chair (!?!). And then the guy is going to be sitting in a chair (?!?), and OH MY GOD his daughter is going to be sitting in a chair for this exclusive interview. Aren’t people normally suspended over shark tanks filled with napalm-flavored Fruit Roll Ups® for interviews? No, the announcer said MATT LAUER WILL BE SITTING DOWN with that guy, and then I saw video footage of it actually happening.  And it looks like they’re eating eggs? Are they? I don’t know!!!! Will someone confirm if they are exclusively eating eggs?? Could it be pancakes? It could be pancakes. Maybe it’s not even breakfast food?

Can we declare tomorrow a national holiday like Guy Who Shot Daughter’s Laptop Will Talk to Matt Lauer And His Daughter Will Be There And This Is the First Time This Has Happened In the History of Laptop-Shooting Dads Day? Then everyone could stay home and watch this exclusive interview. And then we could exchange gifts.

This is what I’m going to give my son:

Gun-Totin' Teddy™. Shoots real bullets!

This is so amazing. And did I mention exclusive? I don’t think I did. Guys–this is an exclusive interview with that guy! You know, that guy? Do you know that guy? He’s that guy. And he made a video where he shot his daughter’s laptop? She posted “Dad blows” or something on Facebook? Remember that? It’s like how people say: “Do you remember where you were the day that guy threw the Slim Jim wrapper?” And you respond: “That was the day America changed forever, and I also ate a scone.”

This is just like that!! Except way more exclusive.

Okay, that’s the end of the huge announcement. Carry on.

Politicians Say the Darndest Things.

Occasionally a kernel of truth rises above all the noise and overload in our media-saturated society, and it makes you tear out your ear buds, log out of Facebook, turn off your TV, pause your Xbox, switch your ringer to vibrate and deflate your blow-up doll so you can let that truth wash over you as if you were in a truth carwash.

Bob Marshall, an actual elected representative in Virginia, called for an end to state funding of Planned Parenthood because nature takes its vengeance on women who abort fetuses by giving them defective babies.

Now some are in a tizzy over this remark claiming it’s batshit crazy (I’m paraphrasing), but I applaud Bob Marshall for being so upfront about the numerous abortions his mother clearly had that left him with the traumatic brain damage he suffers from today.

Mothers should breathe easy that while nature may be throwing tsunamis into their damaged-by-abortion birth canals, their handicapped children could someday be elected to public office and say the most abhorrent statements imaginable.

Now Bob is a little upset that his remarks were being posted on social networking sites leading to online petitions calling for his resignation when usually he could say this crazy shit without anyone batting an eye misconstrued by journalists whose moms clearly had abortions causing them to have the taking-out-of-context handicap and write that a elected representative actually felt it appropriate to say God punished women for abortions. He never said God was punishing women for their sinful ways. He said nature. And really, it’s punishing the kids.

Whew! Thank Nature that was cleared up. I’m sure the millions of children with disabilities feel better too.

I Just Bought Breast Enlargement Drops

I wish people could know more about me.

I wish there was some way, I could show everyone my very essence. I know I can status update and tell people I used a fork correctly for once on Facebook. I know I can tweet and tell people I blew my nose into a colander on Twitter. And while both things are incredibly fascinating in the way it’s fascinating to read someone was delivered a virtual fortune cookie on Facebook and LOL!!!!!, I feel like all of you are missing out because you are not privy to all the minutiae that makes up a Speaker7-like existence. And in a way, I feel like I miss out on many things that I do because I’m too busy watching TV to notice. Like once I ate a carrot dipped in humus and it tasted okay, but I didn’t really think too much about it, and what did the world lose by that? (Answer: everything)

But holy sh*t! I guess there is a way to share my very essence because now I can share what I buy on Amazon.com with my millions of Facebook and Twitter followers. This is like Christmas, Drinking Straw Day and Mormon Pioneer Day all wrapped together in a smushed package taped together by Mormons using drinking straws.

What a wonderful and glorious time we live in! Before, we would just buy a bunch of crap and let it pile up until the rat swarms arrived and ate us whole. But now! Glory be to somebody, everyone can know what crap everyone buys. This was a discovery I recently came upon when I had to buy some crap to show people how much I love them. Thank god, that’s over because now I don’t have to talk to them again for a full year.

So here I lay it all bare for you. This is my holiday gift, and it’s a doozy because by knowing all there is to know about me means you know more about me.

This is me, in a snapshot of Amazon.com purchases. Let there be peace on earth.

It will soon be safe to come within 50 feet of me.

I bought this for my daughter. My daughter's name is ... um...Daughter...yes that's her name.

The smell will never go away. Even if you try soaking yourself in tomato juice, the stench never dissipates.

An absolute necessity.

And the money will come rolling in. Seriously I need it to pay my Amazon bill.

There are no words.

I wear this when looking at my Twilight ball.

Newt Gingrich is single, right?

The last time I knew, he was in Donald Trump's ass.

I like to shave when watching Where in the World is Matt Lauer.

The local unemployment offices need to start looking at this as an option.

RIP Dear Leader

What a glorious time we live in.

And finally my tangible gift to you.

But Speaker7, you’ve been so generous! How can you possibly give us something else?

Just shut up.

blog disclaimer: this post may cause this ailment. Reader beware.

It’s A-Okay!

I learn so much as a human being who has eyes and ears and occasional numbness in my pinky toe. But I had no idea how much I repressed what I said until I saw this on Facebook:

I wept silently into my Old Glory hotpants for about an hour. But after my crying jag, I felt liberated. Clearly Christmas is under attack. Why else would Christmas decorations go up Oct. 25 when they should be up after July 4th? The intention is to rip this holy commercial holiday right out of baby Jesus’ tiny baby hands and beat the crap out of it with baseball bats emblazoned with the slogan: “Happy Holidays from Al Qaeda!”

But guys.. did you know it’s okay to say “Merry Christmas” and “God Bless America” without being struck down by the iron fist of straw men?  I feel like a giant weight made out of air has been lifted off my shoulders.

However this got me thinking: what else is it “okay to say” that for some reason or other I wasn’t saying because it was not beautifully set against a backdrop of a waving flag?

Get ready for some freedomy freedom being freedomed your way:

And lastly my favorite:

Vultures are AMAZING.

While I roast some chestnuts on the fire and move the pieces of the Nativity scene around so that Mary is lying down because she just had a baby for cripes sake, I ponder what Christmas means to me.

I quickly become bored and open up my laptop and check Facebook where I discover what one of my “friends” thinks about Christmas.

There are many things that confuse me about this status update. First, why did I read the whole thing and then take a screen shot of it? And B, was Santa Claus, Rudolph and those Coke-swilling polar bears at Jesus’s birth? And second, does it really bother you when some underpaid, abused retail clerk mumbles “Happy Holidays” rather than making the sign of the cross and saying “HO HO HO Merry Christmas. . . is that what’s really ruining the holiday, not the people who pepper spray other people for a $2.95 Forever Lazy®? And lastly, why are you yelling? The yelling hurts my eyeballs.

Believe me, I would totally be on the same page with you if sh*t was going down like it did when Nero was Roman emperor, and Christians were torn apart by dogs and set on fire. That is some hardcore persecution right there. But this? Some person ringing up your FisherPrice Imaginext 2 Foot Dragon World Fortress™ at the local dollar store, mumbling “Happy Holidays” as s/he tries to avoid getting cancer from exposure to the products made out of asbestos and arsenic?  I don’t think your “persecution” is going to land you on the Christian martyr list.

Here’s the thing, “friend.” You can scream or write in caps lock “Merry Christmas” until your lungs burst or you have carpal tunnel and no one will really give a mistletoe sprig (well unless it’s at 4:30 a.m., but that’s why noise ordinances are enacted). That is because in America–for now–you are free to practice or not practice any religion you want. I don’t know if things will change now that the U.S. Senate has voted to allow the military to arrest Americans and detain them indefinitely.

Merry Christmas.

But as it stands if I want to practice the religion of Speaker7ism where I believe Speaker7 is omniscient and omnipresent then praise be to Speaker7.

Now I am by no means a history scholar, but I’ve been able to cobble together some knowledge from Snapple bottle caps, Chinese restaurant menus and the labels on Molson Canadian Light. I have learned that vultures can fly for six hours without flapping their wings and that the founding fathers did not want to repeat the problems in England by creating a state-sponsored religion. It never seems to go well for the people in the religious minority.

Really no one can take your belief away from you unless you let them. And your belief should be that Speaker7 is the light and the way.

Or else.

Please welcome the newsfeed baby!

Not only do I get to sift through friends’ platitudes– “Don’t Look Back. You’re Not Going That Way”–on my Facebook newsfeed, but now I can see what news articles they read on other websites.

This is great. I really wanted to know that people I know on the most superficial of levels are reading articles like “Michelle and Jim Bob Duggar are expecting their 20th child” and “SeaWorld Orlando announces new attraction” (Apparently Shamu and Jim Bob Duggar are expecting their 20th hybrid whale-baby)

Facebook has hooked up with Yahoo! and created a newsfeed baby that is a half-brother to the baby created by Yahoo! and Jim Bob Duggar.

I don’t read Yahoo! News because the name itself invalidates everything placed on that page, but it’s basically the sign of the times to come. At some point, Facebook will intertwine directly with our brains and be able to post status updates  like:

I really don’t want random people…excuse me, my besties knowing what I search for and read on the Internet. I look up some weird sh*t on the Internet. For research, thank you very much Mr. FBI agent or Mrs. FBI Agent because I’m not sexist or Ms. FBI agent because you don’t have to be married. I have looked up adult baby syndrome several times. I also searched for information on Richard Simmons and his pom-pom tank top, which incidentally led to many sites on adult baby syndrome. I use search engines when I don’t know how to spell something like gonorrhea or Kim Kardashian. All for this blog.

All for you, readers.

Now the U.S. Supreme Court is hearing a case on whether it’s a-okay for the coppers to track your every move (unbeknownst to you, of course) through GPS. I read about this on Goofball! News. That GPS thing-a-mabob is not good. It touches on the Orvillian (coined for Orville Redenbacher who experimented with hybrid popcorn kernels). I really don’t want the local police to know that I stop at the local Rite-Aid several times to pick up adult diapers for the diaper parties I attend. For research. 

We are one step away from looking as bad as Bruce Willis did wearing that hair piece in Surrogates, a movie I’ve never seen due to spending time in active pursuits like searching adult baby syndrome on the Internet.

How do I know?

I read about it on Facebook.

My New Exclusive Best Friend

This is a momentous time.

I’m not talking about the return of “Where in the World is Matt Lauer,” a segment where Matt Lauer travels to five secret destinations and everyone or no one should care, take your pick. I pick no one.

I’m also not talking about the release of Clown Beck’s new book I Cry Therefore I Am: A Study of Adult Baby Syndrome. It sounded really good when he cried about it to Kathie Lee Gifford. “I’m much more than a cartoon character,” he cried cryingly.

Heinz is releasing a new ketchup, an exclusive ketchup only available to the billions of people who use Facebook. This is a big story. I heard about this on NPR this morning. I first had to check that NPR was still a news agency (it is) and then I realized that this was a momentous time hence the opening line of this post.

The new flavor is balsamic vinegar ketchup. You can obtain it by becoming its friend on Facebook.

I am very excited. I’ve never made friends with a ketchup before, let alone a famous ketchup. At first I thought I mustard misheard, but now I relish the opportunity.

I wonder what its status updates will be?

Maybe “I’m a ketchup! Just sayin.” or “I may be a ketchup, but even I don’t give a flying f*** about ‘Where in the World is Matt Lauer.'”

I cannot wait to find out.

I wonder if it will like the same bands as me or watch the same TV shows. I hope so because I don’t know what else we can talk about.

Will it laugh, if I put “Heinzee, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship” on its wall?

Will it get angry if I question why that watery crap always seems to come out first and ruin my hamburger?

Will it be a godketchup to the second child I’m pressured into having by work acquaintances?

Endless possibilities…people are already posting how excited they are on the original Heinz ketchup Facebook page. These people have incredibly fulfilling lives covered in generous amounts of tomato concentrate.

This is what the original Heinz ketchup has as its status update: “Pumpkins aren’t just for carving! This weekend enjoy our Pumpkin Spice Bars as a delicious treat while you put the finishing touches on your Halloween costumes.”

Pumpkin spice bars made out of ketchup sound wonderful…almost as wonderful as becoming friends with a bottle of ketchup.

Momentous times.