Rejection is Good for the Soul

I decided I need to write more. I am not a very talented writer, but I enjoy doing it. I recently came to the conclusion that the reason I'm such a poor writer is that I never, ever, ever do it. So I decided to start writing some crappy short pieces, and sending them to online journals and such. They will never get published, but by doing it and getting feedback, I'm hoping to at least improve to the point that I don't absolutely hate everything I put on paper. And since the only way to get over being embarrassed by everything I write is to let people see it and mock it until my skin is so thick I don't feel at all anymore, I'll also post most of it here. Keep in mind this is a first effort in a style I'm unused to, so I realize that it's just not very good. Hopefully this will change. But probably not:


RE: YOUR CRITICISMS OF MY GRADUATION SPEECH

Dean Silverstein:

I received your letter concerning my speech at last week’s commencement ceremony, and would like to respond to your criticisms in order.

- I certainly didn’t mean for my opening to be construed at “anti-semitic vitriol” as you so colorfully termed it. Let me assure the gag with the yarmulke and the tampon (it was just strawberry jam) was completely tongue-in-cheek. Also, the crack about the “Jewish Nose” was meant to be self-effacing, though I can see how you may have misconstrued it, and until you pointed it out, I did not know that the punch line to the Ike Turner joke was a slur.

- Any similarities between my act and Gallagher’s are simply an unfortunate coincidence. After doing some research, I will admit the resemblance is quite striking. Please extend my apologies to any students in the first few rows. In my experience, most fruit usually comes right out.

- I don’t remember actually claiming to have written an episode of Law and Order, but I will take your word for it. I simply misspoke, as the episode I referred to was ostensibly based on an experience I had a few years ago. I am sure you have heard the phrase “ripped from the headlines.”

- I am sorry to hear that you did not appreciate my Latka impression, but that is beside the point. I merely thought Andy Kaufman could serve as a great example to today’s youth. Have you ever actually watched Taxi? If not, maybe that is why you didn’t like the impression?

- After reading your letter, I googled “Dwight Eisenhower” and “Margaret Thatcher,” and you were indeed correct; I was sure I had heard somewhere that they had not graduated college. I was right about Kurt Cobain, and fail to see how that example is “irrelevant.”

- Your description of the portion of my speech concerning the dangers of college sex as “an irresponsible, vulgar, misogynistic rant” was a tad harsh, don’t you agree? My use of the phrase “the ole’ poke-a-hole-in-the-condom trick” was meant to shock youngsters into appreciating the pitfalls of disingenuous women looking for a free ride.


Finally, I must point out that I posted “YOU MUST BE 21 TO DRINK” signs in plain sight- including directly over each keg- at the party I threw for students and faculty afterwards. I was disappointed to see that you could not make it. Maybe next year?

Go Bobcats!

Sincerely,

Derek Birch

Are you there God? It's me, Shimmering Wang

I haven't asked you for anything since the time I got you confused with Santa Claus and asked for "Scattegories" for Christmas. And even though I'm sure you don't exist, I'm going to take Blaise Pascal's advice in this case, suspend my disbelief, and implore you to perform a miracle:

Please please please let the Tigers just win 3 more games this year.

If the Tigers win the Series, I'm going to donate 20 dollars to a random church. It might not be the right church (I sure hope you're not a Jew), but I'm willing to forgive myself that mistake if you are.

Thanks in advance God.

Your sinful subject,

Shimmering Wang

Blue Chip

No, I didn't watch a Nick Nolte movie; I went to Blue Chip casino in Michigan City, IN, for the reopening of their poker room.

What. A. Joke. This place was being run like hoodrat: poor and sloppy. Most of the dealers didn't know the rules, and at least half couldn't pitch a card to save her life. The pitbosses were either stupid, incompetent, or flat-out mean, with many being some combination of the 3. For example:

I'd been playing limit for a few hours, and finally my table broke up. I had a few racks of checks in front of me, and decided to go sit with my friend and play some no limit at the only other table running. When I sat down, I bought in for the max, but had plenty of chips left over. I wanted to toss them into my pocket instead of leaving them on the table behind me, since I was all drunk and bound to forget them, or at least knock them onto the floor. Keep in mind there are 12 people in the ENTIRE ROOM, including the dealer, pitboss, and receptionist/secretary.

Wang: "Excuse me? Sir? Hi, I just moved tables. I was wondering if you'd see if you could get some of these chips colored up for me so I can put them away?"

PitBoss: "No." (walks away)

Wang: "Did he just say no?"

Dealer: (horrified) "Uh, yeah, I think he did..."

Wang: "EXCUSE ME? Sir? Yeah, I was just wondering if you could get some bigger chips I could exchange for these smaller chips. Because I don't want all my chips hanging around, and I'm playing. In your new poker room. And paying to do so."

PitBoss: "Do it yourself. I'm not walking out of this room. I'm not going to the cashier for you. It's not my job." (walks away)

Wang: "What? You are the worst pit boss ever."

PitBoss: "..."

Wang: "I'm serious. You're ridiculous."

I'm not sure how I wasn't kicked out. Maybe it had something to do that my friend and I made up 25% of the card room...

A little later, I left to get a meal. I took my extra racks of chips and told the dealer I was going to put them on the table so I didn't have to keep them under my chair.

I come back a while later, and reach to move my excess rack of chips from the table.

NewBoss: "Excuse me, sir? Sir??"

Wang: (slurring, surely) "Ya?"

NewBoss: "You can't take money off the table."

Wang: "Oh, it's not on the table. I just put it there to keep track of it while I went to get breakfast."

NewBoss: "Yeah, but you're taking it off the table. It was clearly on the table."

Wang: "Yeah, it was on the table, but it wasn't ON THE TABLE."

NewBoss: "The rules are rules."

Wang: "No, you just don't understand. Those chips weren't in play."

NewBoss: "Were they on the table?"

Wang: "Yes, techni-"

NewBoss: "Then they're in play, and can't be taken off the table."

Wang: "Do you understand that 'on the table' is used metaphorically, to represent chips that are- or have been at some point- at stake? That's what 'table stakes' means. Chips that are at any point at risk- or that one acquires via other chips- must remain at risk, or the player must leave his seat, usually for a predetermined period of time, and then he may buy in for no more than the previously enforced maximum."

NewBoss: (blinks dumbly, points) "Yeah, but those chips were on the table."


At this point I breathed deeply, took the chips off the table, and put them under my chair. I then turned, stared, and tilted my head as if to say, "Okay. So do something about it." She waved her hand at me disgustedly.

Little stuff like this happened all night. There were 2 limit games, and a smallish waiting list most of the night. For some reason, the guy running the card room made the brilliant decision to make one game the MAIN game, and the other a MUST-MOVE game. So, of course, it was absolute fucking chaos. Every 10 minutes, he'd walk over and read a list of names off. If your name wasn't called (?) you were supposed to go to the main game. When I got moved, there wasn't a seat at the main game for me, and my seat at the must-move had already been filled. It took me at least 10 minutes to get reseated. By that time, 4 seats had already opened in the main game. It took at least another 15 minutes for anyone to be moved. By the time I finally got situated at my MainTable, I noticed we were only 7 handed. I preferred it that way, but when I asked what was going on, everyone replyed, "Oh, yeah. We've been pretty short all night." There's a fucking must-move game- for no reason!- and the main game is short?

Just a joke. I made sure everybody associated with the room knew how I felt, and I made as many suggestions- fucking tanked as I obviously was- to help improve the room, since it's easily the closest room to my house and I want it to run well. With absolutely no experience, I could have taken over that room and made it twice as efficient, and three times as friendly to players. Immediately.

Jopke

Date Report

$2 Miller Lite pints. Tigers played shit. Laughed the entire time anyway. Dog hates me, but hates all men. Didn't get kneed in the balls. Home safe, home safe. Didn't hang up when I called the next day.

Best one can really hope for from the WangMeister.

The Moment of Goof

Hammered out plans with my date last night. I offered a classy early dinner to leave the door open for her to suggest- with my gentle prodding- we catch the Tigers game afterwards. If dinner went bad, I was just going to drop her off at her door at 7:59, then hightail it to the closest bar with a TV.

It does appear, however, that I neglected to think of a third, better option.

Girl: "Wait wait. The Tigers play tomorrow night, right?"

Wang: (treading carefully) "Uh, yeah. Now that you mention it, I believe they do."

Girl: "Well instead of getting dinner, let's just go to a bar and watch the game."

Wang: (briefly considers impromptu marriage proposal) "Yeah, sure. Want me to just pick you up at like 7?"

Girl: "Nah, make it like 6. I wanna get a few in me before the game starts."


I can hardly remember what this girl looks like, but I truly think I'm in love here.

I...wh...what?

Once again, this is almost verbatim. I'd like to point out, however, that before this conversation took place I managed to use grammar/punctuation to hit on this girl. She reacted positively, and even went so far as to make a joke about Strunk and White. Which is pretty goddamned awesome.


Recent Phone Conversation (#2):

Wang: (dialing, listening to dialtone)

Girl: "Hello?"

Wang: "Hey, what's up?"

Girl: "Nothing. You?"

Wang: "Not much. You?"

Girl: "...still nothing."

Wang: (frozen, considering hanging up phone)

Girl: "So, too good to answer my calls, now?"

Wang: (relieved, formulating excuse for personal stupidity, considering elaborate lie) "Oh, yeah. Sorry about that. I, uh" (the truth will set you free, the truth will set you free, please GOD don't hate me....) "I, uh, was playing cards, so I kinda had to let it go to vo-"

Girl: "You were playing cards?"

Wang: (KABOOOOOM!!!!)"Yeah, shi- uh, yeah, I cou-"

Girl: "Oh, I understand completely. There's nothing worse than getting bitched at by a pit boss for flipping your phone open at the table."

Wang: (...) "...."

Girl: "Hello?"

Wang: "Yeah, sorry, I was, just... How do you know anything about pit bosses and, phones or whatever? And when they get mad and stuff?"

Girl: "Oh, sheesh. I have a lot of fun at the casino!"

Wang: "Did you just say 'oh shee-'"

Girl: "So how're you doing?"

Wang: "I'm fine."

Girl: "No... How are you doing, doing?"

Wang: "I-... what?"

Girl: "Are you winning or losing?"

Wang: "Oh, I'm in pretty decent shape. Nothing spectacular."

Girl: "Anyway, should I let you get back to your game, or what?"

Wang: (clicks "Deal me Out" button on all 3 Full Tilt screens) "Actually, I was just about to get up and take a little break..."


And I've got a date. Somehow. Don't ask me.



TOMORROW, I'll be talking about how hilarious it would be if a girl lost her virginity to Gwar.

I'm Washing My Hair

Recent Phone Conversation:

Wang: "Hey."

Girl: "Hey, sorry I'm calling so late."

Wang: "No problem. How was the rest of your weekend?"

Girl: "It was okay."

Wang: "Just okay?"

Girl: "I'm trying to remember... oh, I went to the Michigan game on Saturday!"

Wang: "How was that?"

Girl: "I'm trying to remember..."

Wang: "Jesus, how did you drink on Saturday? Didn't you have like 6 of those TallBoys?"

Girl: "Yeah, I think. I don't think I was too drunk though."

Wang: "Really? You seemed pretty hammered to me."

Girl: "No, I think I was fine. I had a pretty bad headache when I woke up in the morning, and I had to have my roommate remind me of lots of stuff that happened on Friday, but I don't think I was THAT drunk..."

Wang: (falling in love)"Wait, so you kinda blacked out after drinking 12+ beers, and you don't think you were that drunk?"

Girl: "You're the guy with the hair, right?"

Wang: (trepidatiously) "Yeaaah..."

Girl: "Oh! How old were you? You were cute. You play cards, right?"

Wang: "Uh, I'm 23. I, uh. Yeah. I play cards. I thought you were pretty goo-"

Girl: "Where are you from again?"

Wang: "You really don't remember any of this? We talked for like 5 hours at the bar..."

Girl: "No, I remember. Just needed some reminding."

Wang: (growing a nutsac) "Hey, I'm gonna be in town this weekend. I'd like to take you out to dinner or something, maybe watch the game, see a movie. Whatever."

Girl: "Ooooh, sorry. I can't. I've got plans on Friday and Saturday. Are you going to be around Sunday?"

Wang: "Actually, I might be. What if I took you to get some lunch."

Girl: "Ooooh, sorry. I have to take pictures. With my dog."

(This is easily the lowest point of my life. She just blew me off with that classic 'taking pictures with my dog' line.)

Wang: "Ah. Oh well. Okay, I'll let you go then. Just give me a call if you cha-"

Girl: "No, don't go."

Wang: "What?"

Girl: "You're cute and funny. When else will you be in town?"

Wang: (thoroughly confused) "Jeez, uh, I'm not su-"

Girl: "Wanna go out next weekend?"

Wang: "So the line about the dog wasn't a blowoff?"

Girl: "No, silly. I gotta run, my bath is ready. I'll call you Saturday!"

Wang: "Sure, okay. I'll talk to you then. I'm talking to a dialtone, aren't I? Yup. Dialtone. Jesus, that was weird."


Jesus, that was fucking weird.

Wang

Dear Todd Jones

...I would appreciate it if you'd stop taking months off my life every time you take the mound.

Kantian Ethics demands: "Respect the joke, regardless of the consequences"

I've mentioned it before, but one of the credos by which I live is "Respect the joke; Damn the consequences." There are so many situations where you can say or do something funny, with possibly disasterous results to one's own reputation. I'm not talking about instances where a joke is going to hurt or embarrass somebody needlessly; I'm not a member of that bandwagon.

The best- and perhaps only- instance of having to make a choice between saying something funny or keeping it to yourself to further some more-beneficial end involves a woman. Say you've just met a girl at a bar or a party or K-mart or a strip club. She's giving you the eyes, and you estimate there's a Reasonable Chance you could see her naked in the near or very near future if you act a Certain Way. Oftentimes, the way I usually act and the way I should act to persuade a girl to take her top off are exactly the same, or at least not so wildly divergent as to merit discussion or consideration.

But what if a situation arises where I can say something funny? Perhaps it could be construed as slightly offensive, or too silly, or uncool. Perhaps the girl won't get it and will be immediately turned off. In these cases, it's easy to just keep one's mouth shut, and doing so serves a very utilitarian purpose (ie, boobies in the face). But I can't do it. I can't bite my tongue.

Because in many ways, mine is a duty-based system of ethics. An action is no longer moral if I'm not follwing the maxims to which I claim to subscribe. Does the end of motorboating a girl's cans justify the means (ie, chickening out and not making The Joke)? Even if I grant that boobies > self-respect/personal chuckle (which I don't), I'd still make The Joke.

What do I have, if not my unflinching dedication to humor, even if the brand of humor I respect and propagate isn't particularly funny or well-received?

Not a damned thing.

So:

I met a girl at a bar a little while back, and gave her a call last night. She didn't answer, but texted me a few minutes later, explaining that she saw I called, couldn't talk, and that she'd call me tomorrow (today). When she calls, I think it'd be funny to let it go to voicemail, and immediately text her back explaining that I saw she called, can't talk, and will call her in, oh I dunno, 30 seconds. Then, I'll call her in 30 seconds. Do I like this girl? Yes. Is that just a weird fucking thing to do? You bet. Can this course of action ONLY serve to lower my chances of getting paid off, here? Absolutely. But do I think it's funny?

Yup. So it's not even close.

(Wang brushes single tear away...)

Go Tigers.

Seeing the players walk out of the tunnel- watching them spray all the fans with champagne while jumping and running around like kids- is probably the coolest thing I've ever seen in sports.

I still have the chills.

Tomorrow I'll be composing my open letter to Kenny Rogers, expressing my heartfelt gratitude for what rates to be one of the single greatest games ever pitched by a Detroit Tiger.

Wang

Fingers of Fury

I'm a pretty fun-loving guy, but anybody who knows me understands that I'm significantly more likely to notice and comment on the negative aspects of existence than the positive ones. Even the things I take pleasure from usually involve some aspect Schadenfreude.

I've been in a grumpy mood this morning, so let's call a spade a spade. Things I fucking hate:

1) My "refrigerator." Bullshit. It's just a lame freezer. If I put a bag of lettuce in the bottom drawer, it's frozen within a few hours, no matter the setting. I swear that knob's just a decoration. Crisper, my ass. Just because produce is frozen solid doesn't mean it's crisp.

2) My microwave. I swear to God the max temperature of that thing is like 85 degrees Farenheit. How can something that uses MICROWAVE RAYS be unable to boil water? Isn't that ALL it's supposed to do? If I want to cook room-temperature sausage, I'm better off putting it in the sun for half an hour. And frozen (crisped?) foods? Don't even think about it. I tried to cook a lean-pocket a while ago. After 5 minutes, the crust was barely thawed and the filling was somehow colder than when I'd taken it out of the freezer. I don't even want to think about the physics of that. I'm considering getting an advanced degree in some natural science, just so I'd have a ground-breaking doctoral thesis sitting in my lap. It's like cold fusion, but with no practical application.

This morning I put a few pieces of thinly sliced turkey inside, and after 20 seconds the top was warm, and the bottom was cold. I finally said fuck it, and preheated my oven.

3) The unlikely combination of crazy fridge and crazy microwave could only happen to me. Just walking into the kitchen makes me sick to my stomach. One of these days something inside of me is going to snap, and I'm going to see what happens if I put the microwave in the freezer, and run them both. For some reason, I have a feeling the result would be a time machine. Then I could go back in time and buy some new fucking appliances. With my luck, I'd end up in in a time where ABC Warehouse or Sears won't be invented for 30 years. Great. Now I've got to learn to cook over an open-fire in my living room.

4) The Quiznos baby. Ever seen those commercials? With the baby that talks about grilled subs? I defer to Chris on this one: "No, I can't look at it. I can't even drink a glass of water when he's on TV." I'm not entirely sure what that means, but I think I feel the same way. If there's one thing that doesn't make me want to eat a sandwich, it's a poorly-rendered computer-generated baby that talks like he smokes a pack a day.

5) The 24-hour Dairy Mart/ gas station around the corner. First off, they close at 11PM. The 24-hour Dairy Mart closes at 11PM. Idea: CHANGE THE FUCKING NAME. Oh, and they don't take big bills. I tried buying 20 bucks worth of chips, coffee, mayonaise, and bread the other day, but the cashier snottily explained that she "couldn't have a fifty-dollar bill in the register!" Did she have enough change? Yes. But unlike every other convenience store in the country, she refused to put a fifty under the tray. Because she's a silly, silly cunt.

So now I go up there every other day and put less than 5 dollars of gas in my car, and pay with a $100.

Cashier: "I can't take this... I need a smaller bill."

Wang: "Sorry."

Cashier: "Well, you'll just have to find something else."

Wang: "I don't have anything else." (lie)

Cahsier: "I can't take this. I'll need a smaller bill."

Wang: "Sorry." (lie)

Cashier: "Well, you'll just have to find something else."

Wang: "I hate you."


Eventually she just made the change, dropped the bill into the safe, dropped 10 $5-bills from her safe-reserves,and put them into her register. So, let me get this straight: you could have done that all along, but you wasted my time and the time of everyone behind me in line with this absurd charade, because you didn't want to take 30 seconds and do your job? Well, you just made an enemy for life. Congratulations! I'm going to spend at least an hour a week making your life extremely miserable, all because you wanted to get back to the piece of Danielle Steel trash fiction face down on the counter. Guess what: the heroine and the cop end up together, have impossibly great sex, and the Medical Examiner did it.

6) The Yankees. The shit they pulled last night was ridiculous. Okay guys, game starts at 10. "Sorry, we're just not going onto the field because we have more influence than any franchise in the history of sports, and we get our way no matter what, and our organization is headed by petulant rich kids who pitch hissy fits if we don't get what we want. Also, we singlehandedly ruin the competitive balance of the sport because the idea of a level playing field is anathema, and there's nothing the sport can do about it because baseball would collapse if we didn't make the playoffs every year. So, uh, no."

7) Joe Morgan. He knows nothing about the realities of baseball. Instead of relying on things like evidence, he "trusts his gut" and refuses to believe that things like "heart," "clutch hitting," and "born winners" don't exist. Derek Jeter's not the best player ever because he's somehow able to summon some magical ability to impose his will upon the game in important situations. He's a great player because he's a great player, is always hitting with men on base, and sees great pitches in every at bat because he's consistently played with the greatest offensive lineups in the history of the game. Derek Jeter has all those rings because he plays on the Yankees, not because his mere presence in the lineup automatically gives his teammates +3 power, +2 hand-eye-concentration, and +6 magic.

Alex Rodgriguez is not a disappointing player because- despite his superior skill set- he somehow gets nervous and chokes in big situations. He's an incredible player because he hit 35 homeruns, drove in 120 runs, and got on base almost 40% of the time this year, coming off an AL MVP season. Actually, he's a better player than Jeter because he was a consistently better shortstop and has put up better offensive numbers across the board throughout their entire careers. Derek Jeter is not a better player because his teams have won more World Series than Alex Rodgriguez's. Derek Jeter's teams have won more championships because his team spends 200+million dollars a year, and can purchase the contract of one of the best hitters in baseball at the trading deadline.

So, Mr. Morgan, take a logic class, learn what the word "fallacy" means, and then- in a fit of devastating personal revelation- put your head in the microwave in my fridge, go back in time, and save us all the misery by moving to South America and raising alpaca.

8) The blatant pandering of the sports media to big markets. Every single poll on cnnsi.com or espn.com has something to do with- directly or indirectly- New York sports. "Who is the best player in baseball? (a) Derek Jeter- Yankees (b) Jason Giambi- Yankees (c) Carlos Delgado- Mets (d) Carlos Beltran- Mets (e) Jose Reyes- Mets

I understand the realities, I just want you to say it. Just say it. "We're only doing this because more people live in New York than anywhere else. That's why we're blatantly undercovering every other market. Except, maybe Los Angeles, even though they always fucking suck.

Oh, and there's a 0% chance a Notre Dame team with 2 losses that's probably the 20th best team in college football won't make a BCS bowl. I understand it. I really do. Just say it. "Everybody loves Notre Dame, so the sponsors demand we give them an at-large big to boost ratings. We're hacks, and don't give a shit about the integrity of the sport." Just say it. I blame Chris Odette on this one. He's been talking about it for the last 3 months nonstop, and I can't stop thinking about it.

9) A corollary to (8), the national sports media jumps on every good white player in every sport and dedicates an inordinate amount of time to discussing his performance. "Zbikowski! Samardzija!" Hey, guess what? Jeff Samardzija isn't even Notre Dame's NUMBER ONE WIDERECEIVER! McKnight is. McKnight is better. But he's blacker, too, so nobody even cares. Everbody talks about Tom Zbikowski's boxing career, and one writer for cnnsi called it the best sports story of the year. I guarantee there's a black guy playing basketball or football for a major college program that is a much more talented amateur or semi-professional boxer. But nobody gives a fuck. Because he's black. Again, I SO get it. Just say it. "We have to cover these white athletes because there are more white people in America than black people. White people make up a much larger portion of our viewing audience and have more money to spend. White people like white people more than they like black people, and are insecure about the generally superior performance of black athletes compared to white athletes, so we have to stroke the collective egos of our audience by placing undeserving white athletes on a pedestal. Boy, do we hate Allen Iverson and love Kirk Hinrich!"

Once again, most of this can be directly attributed to the influence of my roommate, Chris, who has been pointing these things out for the last few months ad nauseum.


Alright, I'm done for now. I think I'm going to watch highlights from the NotreDame/Michigan game and wipe my ass with a Fighting Irish towel.

"P.S.- Should I stop masturbating, or is that okay?"

I am a Democrat, so it's tough for me to really throw TOO big a hissy fit when it comes to overly-intrusive government. I do, however, consider myself a Social Libertarian- for lack of a better label- so I think I can bitch about this and be relatively consistent:

For those of you that don't know, a bill recently passed through Congress, and a rider was attached that makes online poker explicitly illegal in the United States. (As a sidenote, it's disgusting to me that an issue like this was decided via amendment to a completely unrelated piece of legislation. Mr. Frist, or whoever the fuck is responsible with this, if you want to fuck with the way I make a living, I'd appreciate it if you'd jump up and down a few times so your testicles would drop out of your stomach before doing so.)

(EDIT: Actually, though I haven't read the text of the bill, I think I made a mistake earlier. Playing online poker isn't illegal, but transferring money through banking institutions, credit cards, etc. to and from an online poker site is illegal. I'm terrified to do all the research I have to, so I'm putting it off, but I think there's a level of murkiness as to whether poker constitutes gambling or not in this country. I know there have been a few landmark decisions finding that poker is a game of skill, and therefore the "elements of gambling" [which differ from state to state, if I'm not mistaken] necessary for an act to be considered "gambling" are not present. I plan on reading some supreme court decisions [in Washington, Colorado, Texas, and New York states, especially] to see what the general consensus is. If anyone could point me in the right direction, it'd save me a lot of work, and I'd be appreciative.)

Dutch, an acquaintance of mine, wrote an open-letter that I think everyone should have to read. The text is reproduced below:

To my dear masters at the US Ministry of Unsolicited, Forced Moral Abstinence; I thank you. Too long have I been allowed to do damage to myself with immoral freedoms. Too long has the Government gone without a legal monopoly on gambling.

The most dangerous part about victimless crimes is that I don't have the common good to think about while doing it; making me so footloose and irresponsible that I can't even imagine the things I might do to myself without comrades like you to watch my back, and then force my hand, without my permission. Thanks again, guys, I now know that gambling is wrong... unless the Government holds the action, in which case it's fine, for some reason.

Blindly yours,

[name removed]

P.S. Believe it or not, some people don't share our views: maybe you could scare them by involving church groups or accusing people of endangering children. That should do it.


My favorite line is probably "I now know that gambling is wrong... unless the Government holds the action, in which case it's fine, for some reason."

God, I hate this: I feel like I'm turning into William F. Buckley or something

Bling Bling, fat bitches!

I get a lot of spam at my lycos email account. A lot. The spam:legitimate ratio is something silly like 35:1, and only partly because nobody ever fucking emails me. The emails are predictably absurd, like the one I received two days ago from "Darius_Beaver" entitled "Question hint but more?"

But as I was eloctronically tossing virus-mails into the metaphorically-overflowing wastebasket a few minutes ago, an email from PayPal caught my eye. Seeing as how I'm reasonably certain I've never had occassion to open a PayPal account, my interest was piqued. I decided to bite. The text of the email in its entirety is reproduced below:



Notification from PayPal

Dear PayPal Member!

Having provided the constant support and check of your billing data on file with PayPal we managed to discover a little error in it. You can use you card only for the purpose of identification, the charge at will is impossible. This very type of user�s identification lets PayPal store a safe place to make a purchase, manage the verification of your account data. Setting up a seller account needs valid debit or credit card and verification of account data. In case of automatic payments the charge of credit card usually lasts 5-7 days after getting the invoice. Confirm the necessary information. Mind that your account can be invalid for non-payers and your responsibility may include costs accepting.

Click here to receive access to confirmation page

Be sure, you�ve made right choice paying attention to this matter. Sorry for any inconveniences but we would like you to understand that it is just a safe way of your account protection. Please understand that this is a security measure meant to help protect you and your account.


I was struck by a few things, to be given in list form, as always:

1) Nope. I sure don't have a fucking PayPal account.

2) This email was either written by (a) a brilliant gerbil; (b) a brave-but-developmentally-disabled 5th grader; (c) a lazy Portugese guy in his native tongue who decided his scam would come off just as well if, instead of carefully translating the text into English, he just pasted it into a box at Babblefish.com and clicked on the convenient little "Translate!" button.

3) If some jokebag has gone to the trouble of sending this mass email out to a few thousand people worldwide, it's not unreasonable to assume that some chimpanzee must have fallen for a facsimile of it before. Which line got you, Cletus? My money's on "Sorry for any inconveniences but we would like you to understand that it is just a safe way of your account protection. Please understand that this is a security measure meant to help protect you and your account." Security? Protection? Please?! I'm convinced; here's my credit card info.

4) I like to imagine somebody somewhere reading this doozy of an opener: "Having provided the constant support and check of your billing data on file with PayPal we managed to discover a little error in it," and NOT hearing violent alarm bells, especially when he got to the part about the "little error in it." It just rings so... genuine.

5) Now that online poker is soon to be dried up as an honest way to make an illegitimate living, I might have to turn to internet fraud. I'm thinking something like an email-stickup.

"Dear Asshole,

I am outside your house with a sniper rifle. Email me your full name, address, phone number, social security number, and ALL credit card information. Do not- I repeat DO NOT- get tricky and leave out the expiration date, give me your married name when the card is registered under your maiden name, or even CONSIDER calling the police. If you do, this email will explode for real.

I forgot to mention that THERE IS A BOMB IN THE EMAIL!

Electronically signed,

shimmering_wang@tortoisefuck.org

PS- There's an underscore in my email address. Don't forget YOU'VE BEEN WARNED!"



Bling, bling, fat bitches.