Showing posts with label Ryan Gosling. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Ryan Gosling. Show all posts

Scam Bait - Bill Cunningham Show, Capital Talent


By Bub

Wacky talents wanted for TV SHOW!! (NYC) 

Do you have a wacky strange talent?

Does your family and friends think your talent is crazy?

Do you want to show the world your wild talent?

Are you ready to prove to them you have the IT factor?

Does your family/partner get mad at you for spending all your money on your talent?

Do you spend all your time practicing instead of working?

Send us a video of what you do and a picture of yourself!

Also Call JTat "The Bill Cunningham Show"-646-884-3129

Must be available 10/24-10/25

All of your expenses, up to $2000 including related fees, travel, wardrobe, hair, makeup and meals will be covered. Contact us today so we can help you get famous!
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Dear JTat,

I have a wacky strange talent which has cost me dearly both financially and socially, and which I would like to share with the world.  It started as a fruitless attempt to try to gain my parents’ affection, then evolved into a fun party trick that was supposed to win me acclaim from social power brokers and sought-after sexual partners alike, and it has ultimately morphed into a thousand dollar a day habit that I’ve had to steal, rob, and do worse in order to support.  My talent – naming world capitals.

It started out harmless enough with a puzzle of the fifty United States back in Kindergarten.  But when I first nailed ‘Frankfort’ & ‘Carson City’, I felt a rush like I’d never felt before.  It was a warm feeling in my gut.  It was a feeling that I had control over the chaos in my life and that everything really was OK if only for that moment.  By the time I had the Bismarck/Pierre distinction down, I knew I was in over my head.  It became a matter of when, not if, I would move on to harder stuff to get my fix.

The when was in fourth grade when I began doing world capitals.   I started off light at first – Western Europe, continental North America – but by the end of the year I was deep into the heavy stuff, naming off all of Latin America & the Caribbean in front of the principal.  At home, after I was supposed to have gone to bed, I’d try to crack the Balkans and the Middle East.

It was some time during high school when I’d memorized all of the world capitals on the ‘official map’ of the world.  But soon even that left me feeling empty.  Each time I would recite them I would get less and less of a rush.  And each time I would need it even more.

By college I started dabbling in capitals of contested states, rebel capitals, break-away republics.  That filled the void briefly, but still it was fleeting.  There are only so many ‘Transnistrias’ and only one Tiraspol.

One day my world was changed when I was approached by a shadowy figure that introduced me to ‘Secret Capitals’.  These were opaque metropolises that your average capital memorizer was not privy to.  Some of them were not even visible to the naked eye.  Some of them were made up of phonemes not pronounceable by the human tongue without surgical alteration.  My first Secret Capital dealer offered to show me these invisible seats of government, and refer me to unlicensed surgeons in order to be able to recite city names more beautiful and exotic than any I’d ever heard before – for a price.

I realized I’d become a capital junkie when I woke up naked, in a dumpster, with a broken leg, holding a list of ingredients for off-brand instant macaroni & cheese that I’d been sold as capitals from the lost continent of Latchkeymealia, which I then tried unsuccessfully to peddle for a couple capitals from the Andromeda galaxy.

Such is life for a capital addict.  I’ve lost my friends, my family, my home, but I’ve still got my globe.  I’d be thrilled to share my talent on your informational television program.  I could use the stipend toward this nice collection of capitals located just outside the core of the Earth that I’ve had my eye on.  Hope to hear from you soon.

Best,
Bub

Is Life Like a Box of Chocolates?

By Bub

My momma always told me life was like a box of chocolates.  But she never explained to me how a simile worked - which made that saying confusing due to my developmental disability.

Taking the statement 'life is like a box of chocolates' at face value though, that doesn't make very much sense either.  I'm familiar with the biological concept of life.  And I'm familiar with boxes of chocolate.  But as far as I've noticed, there are no metabolic processes going on inside any boxes of chocolate.

Perhaps she was talking about one's subjective experience of life.  By which she would have meant what?  Consciousness?  Maybe she was intimating that both animate and inanimate objects are illusory abstractions of some sort of global consciousness.  That'd be profound, I suppose.  Not terribly useful, but profound...

But no, that is not what she meant.  And I know that is not what she mean because she would expressly state that was not what she meant.  Waylaying any hint of broaching the profound, she would always explain that 'life was like a box of chocolates' because 'you never know what you're going to get'.

Now, I don't know if you've ever had a box of chocolates.  And I don't want to spoil it for you if you have not.  But what is inside of a box of chocolates is not that terribly surprising.  If you get a box of chocolates, typically, inside will be an assortment of delicious chocolates. There's really not much variation from that formula:  box of chocolates = a box with chocolates inside.

Certainly, with life, you really never do know what you are going to get.  Life is full of surprises.  But no one, to my knowledge, has ever opened a box of chocolates and instead of finding a number of cocoa and sugar based candies, they died of blood cancer.

So, I'm not certain as to what mother meant with that 'life is like a box of chocolates' business.  But it sure was nice of her to subject herself to getting raped by that principal to get me into private school.

The Universe, Epistemology, & Everything Else

By Bub

What do you do with unfettered access to the universe?  I know that I’ve wasted it in the past - Previous occasions where the answers to the most important questions to me were laid bare.   I was instead more concerned with how I would be perceived in that moment by others, or how my access to the universe would live up to the accounts of others.  I’ve personally had more than one Naked Lunch; insect people constant dread, and all; daring whatever darkness lurked beneath to challenge me not to give in; I literally resisted commands to kill more than once; being chased and attacked by the skeletons of people that I loved, including ones still living; feeling the most excruciating pain I’d ever experienced, keeping me home from high school for an entire week, leaving a copper taste in my mouth for months. This prompted more questions than it answered.  I also had unfettered access to the universe that I completely ignored – indulging myself in carpet patterns and hyper activation of my facial recognition capacity while staring at a mirror.  At one point, I kept it alongside identical, nondescript altoids in a tin.  I unexpectedly experienced it on a plane sitting next to a nursing mother, right behind a carpet separating us from first class.  That was fun, if unsettling, but it was fine.  Was that all unfettered access to the universe had to offer?  No.

Ten years after my last ticket to unfettered access to the universe I decided to get one more.  It had been long enough that my fears of harming others had subsided and just to be sure, I had procured a babysitter.  I had absorbed official accounts of people with micro-unfettered access to the universe, and they had found that subjects reported feeling better, being able to get through their day better, feeling more empathy and understanding, etc.  I wanted that.  So I cut off a tiny piece and put it in my mouth.  I had had a headache and was tired, and within an hour, I no longer had a headache, was no longer tired, and felt more love for everyone around me than I had in a long time.  ‘I want more of this experience,’ I thought.  So I took a whole hit.  I did not expect much more than what I had already experienced, but I couldn’t have been more wrong.

I took off right after the second round for a walk.  It was dusk.  It was warm but beautiful in Chicago.  The neighborhood to the north of my apartment has some interesting and beautiful architecture and plenty of vegetation, so I set off in that direction.  I listened to the Radio Lab episode ‘Loops’ on my walk, because I remembered the first time I heard it, I imagined myself thinking about myself, the way the subject of one of the segments had, and feeling a tingling in my forehead.  I had hoped doing so would provide a special insight or at least a special feeling.

It didn’t.  I consciously tried to commune with trees and plants on my walk.  ‘Look at that majestic creature in front of me’ I’d think to myself, ‘I bet it has an incredible amount of wisdom to dispense’.  I would reach out and touch its trunk, and when that didn’t work, I’d touch its leaves – to no avail.  Finally eight blocks later I got to a Walgreens and went inside to purchase an unsweetened tea.  Then the unfettered access kicked in.  I waited in line to purchase my tea with a beaming look that only new fathers and axe murderers are allowed to have.  Fortunately, it was Chicago, and I was but one weirdo in an entire sea.  The lady in front of me had an entire grocery cart full of Vitamin Water.  Lord knows what access to the universe she had been granted.

I started off incredibly nervous on my walk home – I knew I needed to be supervised and I was afraid of what kind of interaction I might have with a passerby.  I walked out into the middle of a busy intersection thinking that all the cars that had the right of way were legally obligated to stop.  They weren’t.  So I sprinted the rest of the way across the intersection.  I kept my head down & half-way back turned down a street next to a rail line that was isolated and had murals painted on it.  It was an amazing experience.  The murals were incredible, and poignant, and sad.  They expressed the city psyche in our neighborhood in totality.  Once I had experienced some art without retribution, I felt a bit bold.  I decided to walk the blocks around my apartment as I returned home down the middle of the street as I finished the podcast I was listening to.  As I did, I cannot confirm if this was reality or not, but a group of children danced past me, mockingly, at 9pm, unsupervised.  I walked past the brothel near my apartment and the teenagers out front were confused as to why a white guy was walking through their neighborhood but not to conduct a business transaction.  Frankly, they looked relieved as I walked past them.  I was relieved that they didn’t have to verbally acknowledge this as well.  I went up the stairs to my apartment, but the podcast was just getting to the part where the person was looking at her brain waves as she was thinking a thought.  I climbed three flights of stairs then sat on the top one in a sauna while I listened to the end of the podcast in peace.  By looking at an EKG machine mapping her own thoughts, the person interviewed was changing her own thoughts.  She chose whether or not to feel pain.  This seemed like an incredibly valuable skill.  So I tried to focus on what I was thinking and shed the rest.  By the time I got it to work I was sitting outside of my front door, sweating profusely, hallucinating that phrase ‘by thinking of herself thinking her thoughts she was changing her thoughts’…

Then, it happened.  All of a sudden, I was granted unfettered access to the universe.   All of a sudden I felt the impulse to sway back and forth.  I began to experience the quantum waves of the universe. This gave me more physical pleasure than I had experienced, even on ecstasy.  Here is what I discovered; starting point – there are infinite universes.  Every experience that you have is the result of a small finite number of quantum particles ultimately making up the sub-atomic particles, making up your cells, choosing to experience you.  That is to say, whatever experience you feel yourself having right now, a number of cells made of quantum particles, made of quantum sub-particles, are choosing to associate in a way that makes you conceive of you as a single entity, as opposed to experiencing those same particles without barrier to the air and space around you.  This means that cells are conscious in their own way and make decisions in their own right as to their borders and of how they perceive objects in our world - & also the pieces that make up cells, & also the pieces that make those pieces up.  As you can imagine, quantum particles are quite amorphous. But when you have a single experience that is the manifestation of the infinite love of the universe you begin to feel the totality of it all.  When everything is infinite, as multiverses which are infinite are, everything becomes qualitatively equal.  Therefore I can ascribe love to everything, because I could just as well ascribe hate but choose not to.  The point is, whatever experience you feel right now, is the manifestation of countless, infinite, quantum particles choosing you to have the relationship with all other quantum particles in a particular perceived existence and their chosen aggregate forms that you currently enjoy.  Whatever experience you enjoy cannot help but be a single manifestation of the ultimate love, which is infinite.   Everything is experienced in a particular moment, and there is no continual individual.  Only aspects of former selves remain, and stills of former times, however these are plot points on the infinite globe rather than a straight arrow of time meaning your particular future is predetermined as well, but it always has been as your past, that you experience in any given moment.  Your experience of life can change dramatically, however.  Apparently, if you prime yourself for love that is what you will experience.  That was really the only subjective experience of my experience – to experience it as love.  20% of the universe that we are aware of is dark matter and 75% is dark energy.  15% can be explained by current science.  What I felt was that all of that was actually infinite – that infinite possibilities existed.  So whatever experience you have in your life is perfect, eternal, and a manifestation of the infinite love of the universe.  Sometimes it can be hard to realize this, but in an infinite universe every possible combination must happen, meaning the happiest combination will happen also and is always happening.  And if you feel like you are experiencing a combination of events that are less than the happiest possible – since experience is infinite it is all qualitatively equal, meaning that you are indeed having the best experience possible.

At one point I was hugging the cupboard door and coffeemaker to commune with their quantum particles.  And to be honest I felt as though I was able to break down the cellular barrier and empathize with these inanimate objects. That alone is an incredibly amazing experience.  They chose to experience ME, just as I chose to experience them.  In an infinite universe that choice is perfect.  That choice is love.  It may be other things as well, but once you experience infinite perfect love from a cupboard door or coffeemaker, you cannot help but approach life with a happy, content disposition.  All of you, in my life, I have chosen because I love you, infinitely, because you are perfect.  Thank you for being you.

Close Encounters of the Casual Kind



By Bub

Hello Earth Human, your physical robustness incites tendrils of sensation within my erogenous zones.  Would you care to procreate?

Hello Earth Human, your slender physique coupled with your eschewing of conventional norms regarding the clothing of oneself and maintenance of personal hair growth while also adhering to the norms relating to the eschewing of such norms supports my desire to replicate DNA sequences that are simultaneously rebellious and conforming; ensuring that I will capture the most delusional aspect of humankind thus maximizing our offspring’s preference pliability.  A simple suggestion or application of reverse psychology depending upon our relationship dynamic will ensure the behavioral outcome we prefer.  Would you care to procreate?

Hello Earth Human, your relentless efforts to incite laughter in me are, while tedious, endearing, in that your DNA sequence will most easily be subjugated for our purposes as it is most eager to please.  Would you care to procreate?

Hello Earth Human, your anomalous fashion statement of wearing a floppy over-sized hat and your rote memorization of sentences meant to be employed poetically in the context of meeting a female attracts me to the extraordinary effort you have taken to gain notice of someone of the opposite sex such as I.  See previous response, and commence procreation.

Hello Earth Human, your basic mastery of subjects of the soft sciences evidenced in the undergraduate degree that you mortgaged your future to attain lets me know that you are willing to make inexplicable efforts to achieve an arbitrary goal set for you by an outside force.  As a procreative partner I would be happy to assume that role.  Would you care to procreate?

Hello Earth Human, your conscious lack of achievement within socio-normative realms in favor of consistent exhibition of disregard for the feelings of others makes me question the quality which makes a human a man in other human men I have met that have conformed to standards set by others’ expectations and objective feelings.  You are particularly attractive because of your apparent intellectual permeability and the potential power you might exert on behalf of my designs.  Would you care to procreate?

Hello Earth Human, your forthrightness regarding your depressive state allows me to accurately assess your earnestness in all other matters.  Since I am only interested in procreation, you might have already addressed your interest in such endeavors earlier between the fits of sobbing I was actively ignoring.  Nevertheless, would you care to procreate?

Hello Earth Human, you do not respond to outside stimuli in a normative fashion.  Your incapacity for verbal communication and lack of eye contact lead me to believe that you are either incapable of physical intimacy or most expert at it.  As a privileged visitor I unfortunately must err on the side of caution and demand that we not procreate.

Hello Earth Human, your unusually pervasive body hair and your uncanny ability to manually climb trees attract me toward your exceptional capacity to withstand cool weather, and the monsoon season.  However your inability to speak audibly or utilize waste facilities leads me to believe it would be unjustifiably difficult for your offspring to achieve our purposes.  I must err on the side of caution and demand that we not procreate.

Hello Earth Human, your sincerity while an admirable trait, will not serve our purposes.  Your moderate attractiveness precludes exception that you might otherwise receive while displaying such a fundamentally vulnerable trait.  Your adherence to an unpredictable set of subjective assessments that cannot be necessarily inferred by social context, will pose a danger to our purposes, despite your abject willingness to communicate the nuances of your sincere objection to the degree or kind of social norm in question.  It clearly requires more effort on our part than it would for the myriad previous example/types that would adequately fulfill our purposes of subjugating human will.

Our purposes are ultimately the same as yours, but with divergent objectives.  We are in the business of breeding the ultimate species for our intergalactic zoo.   I, as our representative, have undertaken the endeavor of hunting down the idyllic human male.  We are interested in what you humans might conceive of as a Platonic ideal of a human male being.  It just so happens that your inherent biological drive is pushing you toward the same end.  I have to admit ignorance as to its particular purpose, and as such am almost ashamed to admit that ours is purely recreational.  Perhaps it is one and the same.  In which case, our objective assessment may prove valuable to any of your future efforts at engineering a successful completion of your biological ends.  Any of the types accepted for procreation above fit the ideal standard for engineering exemplary display human male beings.

But if the ends differ, then our generalized typology might serve no purpose to you.  Hard to imagine though; I’ve been to plenty of zoos and the animals have seemed despondent and complacent in them all.  That said, would you care to procreate?
 

Mom, Are You Going To Puerto Rico For 22 Months?





By Bub

I got a call from my little brother last night.  It was around midnight, and his tone was a mixture of amusement and grave concern.

“Have you seen mom’s Facebook post?”  He asked in a way that presumed I had.  “Is she really going to Puerto Rico for 22 months?”  

“What?!” was my reflexive response.  ‘Of course not’, I thought immediately after, but left it there in the hope of receiving further context. 

“Yea, at about 9:54pm mom posted that she was going to Puerto Rico for 22 months.  Jen (her best friend) commented ‘What?  You must elaborate…’, and Alexa (our cousin, who lives in the same small town as our mother, and is in daily contact) posted, ‘Yea, what?’”

“Didn’t you talk to her tonight?”  I asked, knowing he did, implying that it would’ve been something she would have mentioned.

“Yea, I talked to her earlier but she didn’t say anything about going to Puerto Rico for 22 months”.

“Weird.”

So, clearly she is not going to Puerto Rico.  She has barely been out of the Quad City area in years.  She doesn’t drive; has no income to speak of; has no Puerto Rican suitors to my knowledge; I’ve never heard her mention any short con she has been working on to gain free entry onto an aircraft or any other form of passage out of the continental US; nor has she mentioned any plans to relocate, long term, to a place where she does not speak the language.  Who goes anywhere for '22 months'?  But … Still, is she?

You’d be surprised by what my mother is capable of.  She has ‘partied’ with celebrities ranging from members of the rock and roll groups Cheap Trick and Sha Na Na, to founding members of the Gangster Disciples.  What the euphemism ‘partied’ stands for, I do not want to imagine.  Growing up we barely had enough money to pay bills, let alone the luxuries of the middle class, yet she still managed to regularly get us Pizza Hut for dinner (by calling and complaining that the delivery order, that had never actually been placed, was late), she managed to get me any pet I wanted, all whose fate I still shudder to consider – I lost interest usually after a couple of weeks and they’d conveniently go missing.  Once, after our cat had been gone a few days, my mother told me ‘you know honey, sometimes cats when they get old; they wander off from where they live to die in peace’.  Two months later my cat returned home, to my mother’s astonishment. She later admitted to driving the cat two counties over before releasing it in the country, presumably hoping it would get the hint to take the noble, medieval, Japanese route and wander off and die rather than be any further burden to its family.  Like a Japanese psychological horror film, the cat returned abruptly to remind us of the misdeeds it had suffered.

I always got what I asked for on Christmas and on birthdays (save for the set of bagpipes I perennially requested from Santa, even some years to the exclusion of all other presents [I still have never owned a bagpipe, btw, probably for the best, for everyone]).  She eschewed conventional parenting discretion and caution, and gave me a dubbed copy of the N.W.A. cassette ‘Niggaz4life’ when I was nine as one of my first albums, took me as a fifth grader to see Metallica & Anthrax for my first concert, and allowed me to rent ‘Faces of Death’ videos to watch when I’d have friends stay over who were from families that observed ‘basic moral decency’ much more rigidly.

The most important thing mom did was to teach me through these reckless id-driven excursions that societal structures are made by people, and as such they have no truly objective value, and most importantly, we can make our own.  I was raised to question authority as a matter of course - to such an extent that by the time I was a middle-schooler I was carrying on an email correspondence with the (now designated terrorist group) EZLN – the Mexican Zapatista Liberation Army; and I spent my weekends going door to door attempting to fund-raise (unsuccessfully) for the Communist Party of America.

That said, considering my mother’s artful use of cunning and deception to subvert many boundaries imposed upon her by society, she has an admirable, yet almost inexplicable, willingness to accept sincerity in others.  This once resulted in her calling me and telling me that a serendipitous guardian angel had called her to settle all of her outstanding debts, and all debts of her family as well.  She was so convinced, and thus convincing, that I had printed out the paperwork to sign over my student loan debt to rate-gouging hucksters engaged in a felonious scam before I took a breath and thought through what exactly was going on.

That is the downfall of having a mindset that assumes everyone will believe you no matter what the truth is.  You might be able to get a free pizza out of a pizza restaurant shift supervisor that has nothing invested in whether or not an angry customer pays for a pizza.  But at some point you start believing that you are entitled to a free pizza no matter what – you have to, in order to keep doing it.  Eventually you will have a hard time distinguishing a lie from truth in any circumstance.  As such, the same will happen for those assessing your intentions.  As a result those you are closest to cannot help but entertain the completely fantastical alongside the mundane regarding the information you provide – an apparent declaration that you are moving out of the country previously unannounced for an extended period of time becomes as seriously considered as your conquests at Bingo Bash, and your sharing of photos from the Facebook group ‘Hippie Peace Freaks’.

So, are you going to Puerto Rico for 22 months, mom?  Almost certainly she is not.  But part of me takes everything she says at face value.  Another part of me questions everything she says as well.  Objectively, I have to assume her Facebook account has been hacked; it is just such an absurd notion.  But I can’t shake the thought that she has managed through her secret talents to procure an extended vacation to the Caribbean.  Such an exciting and unexpected possibility would have been foreclosed if my mother had been a more usual parent.  But she decided to do it her own way which entailed along with the questionable, imparting upon me a fundamental rejection of discrimination of any kind, (paradoxically) holding compassion as the highest ideal, and valuing the pursuit of knowledge above other pursuits.  As a result I might just be booking a flight to San Juan in the near future.

Existential Meditations - Absolve Your Sins

By Bub

Jesus Christ steps down from the cross after realizing that literally any other symbolic gesture would have sufficiently absolved humans of their sins.

Jerry Seinfeld is killed filming his new pilot ‘The Divorce Caused by Domestic Violence Referee’.

Osama bin Laden, Tupac Shakur, and Marshall Applewhite fly by on Haley’s Comet and wonder why they don’t have more followers.

The poet took refuge in the mud pit.  It seemed the only pure place left on Earth.  All other places of inspiration seemed tried and trite.  Soaking in and inhaling mud was the only edge left that cut.

Carrie Underwood declared her support for nuclear power in Iran.  She was arrested as a spy by the Revolutionary Guard.

Shipwrecked on a desert island.  Again. What are the odds?  Pretty high considering he fashioned a ship out of a rotted palm trunk and coconut husk sails from the last desert island he sailed from 2 kilometers from this one.  In his run-throughs that he pictured in his mind, he would careen well away from this other desert island that he has been staring at for nearly a decade.  However the actual current dashed his elaborate plans.

Mickey Mouse laments the closing of the only extant dimpled glove store.

Sylvester Stallone spits the muffin out of his mouth and perfectly recites the King’s speech.

A bicycle is locked onto a 12 year old birch tree.  Someone turns Junior M.A.F.I.A. up to full volume on their Android and hacks down a $2,000 tree to steal the forty dollar bike.

A back alley heroin transaction turns awry when the patron thoughtlessly neglects to thank the seller for their effort.  Feelings are hurt, though the seller does their best to hide their reaction.

Children board a bus driven by a man that is holding three women in his home against their will.  He yells at them for leaving refuse on their seats.  One child calls him fat.

A dreadlocked community gardener turns away a man wearing a wind-breaker because he could not possibly understand what this hard work might entail.
 

Scam Bait - The Da Vinci Scam





By Bub



From: Barrister Mark Ferguson
Subject: Your prompt response is highly imperative.
To: Bub
Date: Saturday, April 13, 2013, 1:20 PM

From : Barrister Mark Ferguson
Chambers & Advocates
Address: 60 Bayswater Road
London W2 3PS , United Kingdom
Tel: +44-7011-197-003
Fax: +44-8704-460-634

Good day.
I am sorry for contacting you through this medium without a previous notice;
I had to use email because it is an official and more confidential way of
making contact with people around the world. My names are Mark Ferguson a
fifty three (53) years old Attorney in practice here in London. I had a
client by name Michelangelo Manini who is an Italian and producer of
electronic gates based in Italy who died on March 17 2012 at the age of
50.Prior to the Death of my Late Client, He secured a contract of
22,500,000.00 million Pounds from the British Airways, following which he
received a 30% mobilization fee of 6,750,000.00 Million Pounds and
successfully executed the contract, but the balance of 15,750,000.00 Million
Pounds contract payment was in the Process of being transferred into My Late
Client's Account with BARCLAY`S BANK London which he submitted to the British
Airways before he lost his life in the incidence.

Just one weeks after this sudden Death, The British Airways effected the
transfer of the balance of his Contract Funds into the Account that My Late
Client has on his file with them. As one of his personal attorney here in
London United Kingdom after his death I have been officially notified and
instructed by the BARCLAY`S BANK London where the money is currently
deposited that I should provide and forward the particulars of Mr.
Michelangelo next of kin so that the Funds in his Account can be remitted
into his Next of Kin's Account in accordance with British Laws. However, as
the personal attorney and close confident of late Mr. Michelangelo, I want
you to know that my late Client died interstate, He died without leaving a
next of kin for this particular will stated, we are to transfer this funds
from the BARCLAY`S BANK London as soon as possible before Andrea Moschetti,
the lawyer appointed by the Catholic Church could discover about this will.

Therefore I am seeking for your consent to present you as the deceased next
of kin and subsequently the beneficiary of the fund so that the proceed of
this account valued at 15,750,000.00 Million Pounds can be paid to you for
subsequent disbursement between you and I.If you can cooperate with me and
receive these funds as next of kin to late Mr. Michelangelo Manini, Confirm
your interest by contacting me through my confidential email above. I can
assure you that the deal is 100% risk free because I am in possession of the
deceased personal file which contains all information which I shall use to
prove your relationship with the deceased therefore the money will be paid
into the account of whomever I present as LATE Mr. Michelangelo Manini Next
of kin with proofs that I will present to the bank when needed, we would both
share in ratio of 60% for me and 40% for you, am giving you 40% from the
total funds due to it matter of urgency.

When I receive a positive response and after proper discussion with you, I
will furnish you all relevant information that will facilitate the release of
the Funds to you. An application will have to be filed to the bank for
processing of the release of the funds into your nominated Bank account
anywhere in the world. please kindly send to me your full name,address,
mobile number and fax for easy communication and do reply me through my
private email address:(barristermarkfergusondep@yahoo.cn)for more
information's. Hope to hear from you through the above e-mail address.Your
prompt response is highly imperative.

Yours truly,
Barrister Mark Ferguson

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


Re: Your prompt response is highly imperative.

Wednesday, April 24, 2013 5:51 PM
From: Bub
To: barristermarkfergusondep@yahoo.cn
Good Day to you Barrister,

Thank you for explaining what email is.  You are correct in assuming that I would normally be frightened or offended by contact through such an exotic and unfamiliar communication medium without prior notification.  This case is not an exception.  I am both frightened and offended.  But your misfeasance is mitigated by your apology, which I humbly accept.

Out of your two personalities, Mark, I presume you are writing me as Ferguson the London Attorney of indeterminate age since you are writing me as the legal representative of Michelangelo Manini, an electronic gate producer of indeterminate nationality.  If I understand correctly, your client - Mr. Manini - died prematurely in a mysterious incident for which the only information we have regarding the circumstances was that his death occurred ‘interstate’, which I assume means he was killed on the exact political boundary between two independent sovereign states.  I can see where this might pose more than a few legal quandaries – which nation gets to claim which personal effects, body parts, etc.  I would like to absolve myself by saying that I am no legal scholar, but unfortunately I am.

The general principle of international law dealing with such boundary disputes is to transfer ownership of the remains to an independent agent agreed upon by both states; the agent, vested with fiduciary duty, sells the corpse whole, and the belongings separately, at fair market value; and then disburses the proceeds equally between the two states - unless one state is a member of the North Atlantic Treaty Organization and the other state is a non- member of the North Atlantic Treaty Organization, then the non-member state shall receive one quarter of the proceeds and the member-state receives the remainder.   It is not an entirely equitable system, but it is an improvement over former, more violent, modes of conflict resolution.  World War One, for instance, was triggered after a wealthy love-potion heiress wearing a chinchilla fur coat and diamond necklace valued at $400,000 overdosed on Coca Cola while straddling the Austro-Hungarian/Montenegrin border.  It was the bloodiest, most barbaric war the world had ever seen – all for a coat and a piece of jewelry.  So, while it may seem ghoulish to dispose of your client’s corpse in such a transactional fashion, I assure you that it is far less grizzly than the alternatives.

Now, to the matter of your client dying without a next of kin, leaving Mr. Manini’s property and assets intestate:   you are proposing that I fraudulently pose as Mr. Manini’s next of kin, ostensibly for the purpose of acquiring the sizeable sum owed to Mr. Manini’s estate due to his electronic-gate selling acumen; but with an underlying, unexplained, motivation to deceive the Catholic Church.  You further claim to have already obtained the forged documents demonstrating my familial relationship to Mr. Manini, and for my efforts - which you claim are 100% risk free - you are offering me the compensation of forty percent of 15,750,000 million pounds, which by my calculation is some US $9.6 trillion.  That is roughly three times the size of the GDP of the United Kingdom!

Barrister Ferguson, you had me at ‘fraudulently’.  You English certainly do things differently, but I admit that I like your style. I am generally receptive to any solicitations to commit fraud, but you have sweetened the pot with a literally incredible amount of money as a reward, and a chance to embark on a DaVinci Code-esque escapade which will undoubtedly lead to further adventures cracking the carapace off of the Catholic Church’s gilded shell until its rotted turtle-meat interior is exposed to all the world.  If ever I had any doubts about my place in the universe or my purpose in life, they have surely been resolved by this request.  It is clear to me now, that I was put here on Earth to be the false relative of a deceased electronic-gate magnate in order to claim my place as the world’s second richest man (behind only the eminent Barrister Ferguson); and to single-handedly bring down the Catholic Church - ushering in the return of Christ to reign over His True Kingdom, on Earth, for 1,000 years.

As for my contact information, I’ll save you the trouble - I have your address, and I will book a flight to London directly.  I will leave tonight if possible.   It will of course max out my credit card, but thankfully money is no longer a concern.  Please prepare a bed and draw a bath for my arrival.  I love you.

God Bless You Dear Barrister,
Bub

The Dinner

By Bub


The white-jacketed waiter brought over a silver platter with an iPhone under a crystal cover. 

“Sir, a phone call from Paris.”

A pallor seized the man’s face.  His dinner company quickly excused themselves.  The waiter cleared the man’s plate and uncovered the iPhone on the platter in its place.  Its trilling vibrated against the silver, producing a buzz that cut through to the man’s spine.  He reached his trembling hand toward the iPhone, stopped, and searched the waiter for a look of reprieve.  He received none.  He swallowed his fate and proceeded to pick up the iPhone and press ‘Answer’.  He held it up to his ear without offering a salutation.  He listened.  He nodded his head in acknowledgement, hung up the phone, and returned it to the silver platter. He sat still with a grave look directed at the iPhone.

“Sir?” The waiter asked as if expecting an explanation for the man, himself.

Without changing his gaze the man replied, “It was a… wrong number…” his voice cracking at the end of the sentence as he began to sob.

“My condolences,” the waiter offered, affectless.  He then retreated, leaving the man to his mourning reflection.

The white-jacketed waiter returned a few minutes later with another ringing iPhone under crystal on a silver platter.

“Another phone call, sir…” the waiter said managing to convey both pity and contempt.

“I see…” said the man looking at the phone on the waiter’s platter then to the phone in front of him on the table.  He then took a deep breath, picked up the latter and began gnawing the iPhone in a futile and excruciating attempt at mastication that crushed the man’s teeth leaving him with a mouth full of blood and tooth debris, and a slightly scratched phone which he then put back onto the platter on the table in front of him.  The waiter removed the platter from the table and replaced it with the one with the ringing phone.  The man picked up the iPhone and pressed ‘Answer’ and held it next to his gory maw.

“Ehrroh,” the man moaned.  Agitated, he continued, “Onggh gnungaahh…”

The man ended the call and forced the iPhone down his esophagus as far as he could before succumbing to self-asphyxiation.

Scam Bait - 2012 Election Edition

By Bub

The election is almost here!  I know this comes as a surprise to most of readers who are typically illiterate or shut-ins or both.  So I want to call attention to the down-ballot races and remind voters to not let their self-satisfaction stop them after they've smugly ticked the box next to Gary Johnson for president but to proceed all the way down the ballot and vote in the many federal, state, and local races that are being decided tomorrow as well.  In states that have a functioning democracy you can vote right now or, like me, may have already voted absentee.  Our readers in the more autocratic states on the other hand will have to line up immediately just to for the privilege of being allowed to wait in line to vote tomorrow, only to have their votes over-ridden and switched to Pat Robertson.

They need some extra encouragement to brave the storms both metaphorical and literal, so I am offering this morale booster that I sent to our friends tirelessly working to get out the vote in southern Illinois.  Jason Plummer stands out in a field of particularly odious Republican federal candidates this cycle.  Unlike many Republicans he hasn't made any explicit endorsements of rape.   But like all Republicans, the endorsement is implied.  His threadbare resume is solely comprised of his experience being a wealthy child; his past and present occupation.  Plus he's a real dick; mocking his opponent's (former head of the Illinois National Guard Bill Enyart) height at one of their debates, and personally attacking his opponent's family in press releases.  He represents the absolute worst in American politics, which is why I offer the following full-throated endorsement:


Open Letter to the Editor to newspapers throughout the 12th U.S. Congressional District of Illinois

Republican House Candidate Jason Plummer is right about the jobs report.  The Washington witch doctors & voodoo Democrats - would have you believe that a report showing 171,000 new jobs were created somehow vindicates their economic policies.  But Jason Plummer knows better.  Those new jobs were created in spite of government black magic, racist pun intended, not because of it.

Those jobs don't count because whoever created them was forced into doing so against their will because they did not understand the current job creation environment.  They were wooed by the hypnotic spell of democratic talking points and liberal sweet, and were probably confused because they do not understand how to run a business as well as Jason Plummer does.  Now they're being forced to carry their unwanted job pregnancies to term. 

Luckily for them, Jason Plummer is an economic hypnotism abortionist.  Once elected, he will metaphorically wave his rusty coat-hanger, snap his fingers, and entranced job creators will stop clucking like chickens and begin to feel embarrassment over their unwitting exhibitions of barn yard behavior.  Jason will remove all the confusing red tape that has led to this mess of new 'jobs' that are in reality nothing more than yolk on their Creators' faces.  Plummer would rather no jobs be created at all than to see Democratic Kreskins make fools of honest job creators by metaphorically forcing them to flap their arms on stage as though they were chicken wings and bob their heads back and forth in a pecking motion simulating the movements that chickens make when they eat food off the ground, by literally tricking them into creating jobs against their own interests or forcing them to create jobs against their will.

We need to take America back by ensuring the election of representatives who believe in freedom of choice, for job creators, in the cases of mental rape and economic policy incest.  Help Jason Plummer shut this whole Democratic job creation thing down. Vote Jason Plummer for US Representative of IL-12.

-Bub

Presidential Debate #2 Predictions


By OYIT Staff

This Tuesday, two people - most likely B. Hussein Obama and Willard “Mittens” Romney - will once again meet in a town hall style debate to address domestic issues, such as housework and marital rape.  The debate will be taking place at Hofstra University in New York (the Kaplan College of Long Island), full of students refusing to take responsibility for their lives and clinging to their guns and religion. 




The consensus opinion of the first debate is that Romney won because he was able to limit his use of the n-word, and because Obama failed to defend his record and got too caught up in attacks on Mormonism.  Today the OYIT staff will take a look into their crystal balls and predict what might happen in the next blood-soaked encounter between two stooges of Non-Profit America.


  • Mitt Romney will once again declare his love for Big Bird, then reveal that he has taken Big Bird as one of his many wives.
  • Romney’s ideological swing from liberal east coast Republican to “severe conservative” back towards the middle will take another giant leap left when he performs a vulgar display that culminates in his wiping his filthy ass and blowing his nose - in that order - with the original copy of the US Constitution. Watching from the audience, Virgil Goode will begin audibly weeping, not because of the political/historical blasphemy he’s seeing, but simply because he’s not fully prepared for the size of the custom Articles Of Confederation buttplug he personally designed and wore to the debate.




  • Mitt Romney will then admit that sometimes he fantasizes about Elmo, too. No offense to Big Bird.
  • After being chided by the media for not being aggressive in the last debate, Barack Obama will walk over to Mitt Romney and punch him in the face and tell him he’s going to send him straight to Third Heaven.

  • Romney will accuse Obama of having been born in Kenya, to which Obama will respond by calling Anne Romney an “ugly cunt.”

  • Holding a fully detached human jawbone, a confused Ron Paul will stumble onto stage, naked and covered in what must be blood, before calling Romney “Mommy Number Two” then asking Obama: “Daddy can I take the horse out for a ride tonight?”

  • One of the audience members asking questions will be a tea party member who detonates a suicide bomb, killing everyone in the auditorium except Candy Crowley, who is immortal and by default becomes the nominee of the Green Party.

  • Both candidates will play a drinking game of their own during the debate: Any time one of them calls the other “my opponent”, each will take a sip of their red wine with tonic water and olives - the official drink of the 2012 Election.

  • After criticism that he seemed “out of it” during the first debate, President Obama will drink three Redbulls before going on stage for this debate.  He will get so hyped that he will rip his own skin off and flex his exposed musculature, which will appeal to body builders and win him the election.

  • Obama will wear a festive Halloween costume. Romney will wear a festive Halloween brooch.

  • One question taken from the audience will be from Dalek2007, Gary Johnson’s Second Life avatar.  The question will be about the box office numbers for Atlas Shrugged 2, which were much higher in Second Life than first.


  • All participants get sidetracked trying to figure out where that giant eyeball in Florida came from.


  • Romney evokes the bus driver who uppercutted the teen girl as the kind of American entrepreneurial spirit we’ve been missing under Obama.  O then brings out the teen girl who endorses him and talks some MAJOR shit on Romney, who uppercuts her.  This leads to another Romney surge among working class men in polls conducted by upper middle class blacks living on Long Island.

  • Mitt Romney will constantly quote the film version of “The Shadow,” the only movie he has ever seen.  The undecided voters will not respond to this.


  • Hofstra University will be leveled by a nuclear missile shot from the submarine in Last Resort, ABC’s hit new action/drama airing every Thursday night at 8pm EST.

  • One of the “regular people” asking a question from the audience is Jared Loughner who asks a question about the government’s control of language and then opens fire in the first act of senseless gun violence in America since the Civil War.

  • Jill Stein shows up and drops out of the presidential race, endorsing Roseanne, who reveals the last four years were a dream: McCain really won the election and Darlene was gay and co-hosted a The View rip-off.

  • As the debate progresses, Obama and Romney will both begin losing their trains of thought, frequently pausing, and ending sentences with “... I mean... yeah, dude, you know?” After Romney, completely unfamiliar with the effects of illicit drugs, begins answering a question on economic growth with “What if, like, it was, like...” potheads around the nation suspect both candidates have been dosed without their knowledge. Cameras panning to the audience will reveal nearly three quarters of the crowd to be unconscious as an undetectable gas leak in the building slowly claims the lives of everyone in the auditorium.


  • The undetectable gas leak will continue to build after the debate consuming the northern half of the East Coast before it is contained.  It will lose the general election to third party candidate Gary Johnson, but will carry the entire South.

  • Hot off news that stimulus-receiving company A123 has declared bankruptcy, Mitt Romney will hit Obama hard by bringing out a mummified employee of A123 and perform a necrophiliac act to highlight the improper relationship between the federal government and so-called “green companies.”

  • To prove to the American people that he’s just like them, Romney will make a reference to the ABC show “Wife Swap.” He will inform the viewing audience that he and Paul Ryan have taped an audition tape in which they engage in those “swinging activities” with Janna, Ann, and Romney’s seven other wives who shall remain nameless.*  The link to watch the video is located on the Mormon Church’s website.
*Romney had his seven additional wives’ names legally “erased” upon their nuptials.

  • Biden, fresh from the beatdown he gave Paul Ryan during the vice presidential debate, will be spotted in the audience handing out jello shots and giving crude prison-style tattoos to anyone who wants them, regardless of age. Eschewing standard antiseptic practices, Biden will outright refuse to clean the tattoo gun between customers, which he calls “my fresh ink babies linked by blood.” He will also sign each tattoo with BD, which he claims can mean either “Bi Den” or “Big Dick” depending on his mood.


  • According to documents leaked by the underground Lyndon LaRouche faction at Hofstra University, the Republican and Democratic national conventions have agreed that all judgements of performances during the debate will be based upon phrenology performed on the candidates by respectable bump and crevice doctors. Additionally, all questions from moderators and commentary by pundits is to be spoken using only words containing glottal stops regardless of any agreed-upon debate language, be it English, Adamic, pidgin, Ferengi, Enochian, The Language of the Birds, Valarin, or any of the glossolalia-based tongues the Romney campaign invented for the debate.

How Many Babies?

By Bub




How many babies?
I thought there were four,
but they were just pumpkins.
I had wondered what they were doing on that porch all alone after dark

How many babies?
A box full -
shipped by Amazon to your doorstep

How many babies?
There are a dozen.
They come with cheese sauce & marinara,
and a 2-liter of Pepsi

How many babies?
About a million, I guess.
I don't know… Who are you?
The baby police?!

How many babies?
Oh, I see...
You are the baby police.
I'm going to need to speak with an attorney

How many babies?
It is impossible to tell.
According to the C.D.C.,
new strains are mutating daily,
perhaps quicker

How many babies?
One, up there, in that corner above the door!
Don’t turn the light on,
you’ll antagonize it.
I’m afraid

How many babies?
Too many to keep track of…
Don’t worry, they’re friendly.
They’ll wander back here, eventually

How many babies?
200-300 in column formation;
bayonets tucked into their diapers;
grenades in their toothless mouths

How many babies?
More than you'll ever know.
As many as there has ever been -
four, real quiet, pumpkin-shaped babies.
I wonder what they’re doing on that porch all alone after dark

World Post - Persistently Confused Edition


By Bub






An elderly woman from Flagstaff held a protest in Washington D.C. this week under the mistaken belief that President Obama had outlawed the state of Arizona.






Actor/director Clint Eastwood was terrified to find himself in a stadium full of foul-mouthed, angry, black men.







Spectators laugh as the sole equine detainee at Guantanamo Bay stomps out a desperate request for transfer to the local glue factory after her 10th habeus corpus petition was denied by the U.S. Supreme Court.







As per request, President Bill Clinton was formally presented with every attendee of the annual Clinton Global Initiative forum to passionately kiss.







American advisors solicit feedback from an Afghan trainee on how best to secure the country.







Venezuelan President Hugo Chavez dons boxing gloves to prevent knuckle-wear as he pummels the faces of political opponents who are tied to trees in a Caracas neighborhood.







Pop icon Madonna accidentally outed President Barack Obama as a 'black Muslim' this week while endorsing his candidacy at a concert in Washington D.C.  This information was revealed in secret to her and other attendees of a recent meeting of the Liberal Elite Cabaal held at the mansion of George Soros and his gay partners William Ayers and the real Osama bin Laden.

.






                           Screen-testing for the 'Wayne's World' reboot, above, "dismal".






Mitt Romney unveiled his 'Plan for a Stronger Middle Class'.  At a rally in Toledo he declared, "I believe in an America where we can demarcate a middle class through a system of intricate skull measurements regardless of personal income relative to top earners."






World leaders pleaded for action Tuesday at U.N. headquarters to stop the massacre of Syrians by the Assad regime which has so far claimed nearly 30,000 lives.







The Elders of Zion issued their annual Protocols this week, seen here honoring the producers of the controversial film 'Innocence of Muslims'.







NFL strike-breaking referees made an errant, game-deciding ruling on Monday, spurring calls to end the practice of remote refereeing professional football games from a thousand miles away by men with clinically diagnosed vision impairment.