2004/06/30
He’s Back! Who?
Ed Wishbone, the Inappropriate Advice Guru, has rejoined the fold. While Ed is in a work-release program that could be rescinded at any time, the staff at Maladroit are thrilled to have Ed back in the office, even if it means we’ll have to hide the booze, the Vicodin, and the Olsen Twins’(TM) films.
Ed has decided to return to his first love, dispensing bad advice for the corporate world. Ed worked as an Interpersonal Conflict Creator for a number of large corporations over the last two decades. During his tenure as a consultant for the United States Postal Service in the mid-80s, workplace shootings increased nearly 1100%. Ed is widely credited with coining the term “Going postal.”
More recently Ed worked for Enron, helping senior management foster an environment of secrecy and deceit that ultimately led to one of the largest corporate collapses in US history. Ed’s plan to write a memoir recounting his role in the collapse was interrupted by a six-year sentence for fraud and embezzlement.
Now, Ed hopes to bring his expertise to the Canadian marketplace. He would love to work for Air Canada. “But they don’t need my help, given their delusions, arrogance, and tremendously ignorant business practices,” says Ed. “Truly, it’s breathtaking to watch that train wreck.”
Today Ed begins a new Q&A column, titled Office Dysfunction. Periodically, Ed will help you find ways to sabotage productivity and morale in your office. Let’s begin:
Dear Ed: I’m the Chief Financial Officer of a very large publicly-traded company. Currently, I devote most of my time to embezzling funds from the company. It’s hard work, and it’s stressful. Here’s my problem: I can’t seem to keep my executive assistants in place for any length of time. Perhaps they feel over-qualified to spend their days shredding my paper trail. Or maybe they can no longer tolerate my cocaine-fuelled rants at 2am. Either way, I can’t afford to keep doling out all this hush money, I mean, severance. I need help!-Offshore Accounts Alex
Dear Offshore: Are you empowering your executive assistants? Instead of letting them become disillusioned by all the shredding, remind them they are helping you create a realm of plausible deniability. When they’re cowering with fright after your latest tirade, let them work from home the next day. Don’t forget to have them watched by your henchmen, lest they get a conscience and go to authorities.
Dear Ed: I’ve just become a partner in a large firm. While in the break room yesterday, I noticed three of our summer interns taking a coffee break. They were laughing it up, doing impersonations of our senior partner. He’s ninety-three, wheelchair-bound, and has lost some of his faculties, but he is revered throughout the firm. Mind you, most of the partners make fun of him too, but they exercise more discretion, limiting their mockery to the steam room at the club and our weekly wife-swapping parties. Should I set these ignorant kids straight?-Respecting My Elder
Dear Respecting: You absolutely need to set them straight- straight to a beating! Next time they’re doing their act in the break room, wheel the old guy over. Give him a hockey stick and tell him the Japs have invaded, and they’re in the building! Push his chair into the break room and let him start two-handing those smarmy pukes. A lesson is best learned when it comes with broken teeth and splinters in your ass. Oh, and where is your next wife-swapping party?
Dear Ed: I spend nearly half of each workday downloading internet porn. Last week a female co-worker caught me and has threatened to turn me in! What can I do?-Online Ogler
Dear Online: Did your co-worker go to college? Is she married now? It’s a proven fact that all women who went to college had some kind of quick faux-lesbian fling, usually in their first year, second semester, the point where they’ve put on their “Freshman Fifteen” and are dateless and homesick. A sad time in any young woman’s life, but also your opportunity to zip her lip! You don’t even need to investigate for the facts, just infer that you know all about “you and your lab partner from Intro Biology”, or something like that. Problem solved.
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Ed Wishbone, the Inappropriate Advice Guru, has rejoined the fold. While Ed is in a work-release program that could be rescinded at any time, the staff at Maladroit are thrilled to have Ed back in the office, even if it means we’ll have to hide the booze, the Vicodin, and the Olsen Twins’(TM) films.
Ed has decided to return to his first love, dispensing bad advice for the corporate world. Ed worked as an Interpersonal Conflict Creator for a number of large corporations over the last two decades. During his tenure as a consultant for the United States Postal Service in the mid-80s, workplace shootings increased nearly 1100%. Ed is widely credited with coining the term “Going postal.”
More recently Ed worked for Enron, helping senior management foster an environment of secrecy and deceit that ultimately led to one of the largest corporate collapses in US history. Ed’s plan to write a memoir recounting his role in the collapse was interrupted by a six-year sentence for fraud and embezzlement.
Now, Ed hopes to bring his expertise to the Canadian marketplace. He would love to work for Air Canada. “But they don’t need my help, given their delusions, arrogance, and tremendously ignorant business practices,” says Ed. “Truly, it’s breathtaking to watch that train wreck.”
Today Ed begins a new Q&A column, titled Office Dysfunction. Periodically, Ed will help you find ways to sabotage productivity and morale in your office. Let’s begin:
Dear Ed: I’m the Chief Financial Officer of a very large publicly-traded company. Currently, I devote most of my time to embezzling funds from the company. It’s hard work, and it’s stressful. Here’s my problem: I can’t seem to keep my executive assistants in place for any length of time. Perhaps they feel over-qualified to spend their days shredding my paper trail. Or maybe they can no longer tolerate my cocaine-fuelled rants at 2am. Either way, I can’t afford to keep doling out all this hush money, I mean, severance. I need help!-Offshore Accounts Alex
Dear Offshore: Are you empowering your executive assistants? Instead of letting them become disillusioned by all the shredding, remind them they are helping you create a realm of plausible deniability. When they’re cowering with fright after your latest tirade, let them work from home the next day. Don’t forget to have them watched by your henchmen, lest they get a conscience and go to authorities.
Dear Ed: I’ve just become a partner in a large firm. While in the break room yesterday, I noticed three of our summer interns taking a coffee break. They were laughing it up, doing impersonations of our senior partner. He’s ninety-three, wheelchair-bound, and has lost some of his faculties, but he is revered throughout the firm. Mind you, most of the partners make fun of him too, but they exercise more discretion, limiting their mockery to the steam room at the club and our weekly wife-swapping parties. Should I set these ignorant kids straight?-Respecting My Elder
Dear Respecting: You absolutely need to set them straight- straight to a beating! Next time they’re doing their act in the break room, wheel the old guy over. Give him a hockey stick and tell him the Japs have invaded, and they’re in the building! Push his chair into the break room and let him start two-handing those smarmy pukes. A lesson is best learned when it comes with broken teeth and splinters in your ass. Oh, and where is your next wife-swapping party?
Dear Ed: I spend nearly half of each workday downloading internet porn. Last week a female co-worker caught me and has threatened to turn me in! What can I do?-Online Ogler
Dear Online: Did your co-worker go to college? Is she married now? It’s a proven fact that all women who went to college had some kind of quick faux-lesbian fling, usually in their first year, second semester, the point where they’ve put on their “Freshman Fifteen” and are dateless and homesick. A sad time in any young woman’s life, but also your opportunity to zip her lip! You don’t even need to investigate for the facts, just infer that you know all about “you and your lab partner from Intro Biology”, or something like that. Problem solved.
2004/06/23
HEADLINES: Hillary Duff threatens to behead Lindsay Lohan if demands not met…Can’t drink from this water fountain: Straight, white, male gentiles quit Winnipeg politics for good… Britney Spears dislocates finger while clinging to fame… Undecided: Federal Liberals order champagne, olive branches, and cyanide-laced Kool-Aid for post-election party… Bob Hope dead, Ronald Reagan dead, Rosie O’Donnell - not dead yet
The Eight Things I Enjoyed Most About Being A Supermodel
From 1990 to 1992, I worked part-time as a supermodel. As we all remember, scrawny, hirsute young men with mullets, crooked noses, and receding chins were the It Boys of the early nineties. And what a time it was! Here’s what I liked most:
The cocaine
Easily the best thing about being a supermodel - the access to drugs. And most of the time it was free! As a supermodel, people just wanted to give drugs to me, and I took them. Say what you want about the modeling industry, that it’s shallow and callous, that it hollows out your soul - but at least those people know how to share their blow. And it’s true what they say – your first high is always your best. That, and you really do burn out your septum.
The orgies
The craziest thing about having sex with twenty people? There was this one time where I spent twenty minutes licking some exposed flesh, then realized it was my own forearm. Crazy!
Pouting for obscene amounts of money
Imagine getting to be whiny and self-indulgent every day, then getting thousands of dollars and congratulations in return. Oh wait, I just described every student in our Creative Communications program here at the College. Except they do it for free.
The clothes
My only regret was that I arrived on the scene too late to get a Members Only jacket. But otherwise, I could snap my fingers and get anything I wanted. MC Hammer’s pants from the "U Can’t Touch This" video? Mine.
Throwing up after meals
The coke kept me from eating too much, the puking kept the weight off. I have never seen a weight loss program that could beat it. Of course, most weight-loss programs don’t include paranoid delusions as a side effect, but nothing is perfect.
The notoriety
In April of 1991, at the peak of my fame, I appeared on Hollywood Squares. By then I was well-known for being wrecked all the time, but for some reason they put me in the top left-hand corner square. By the first commercial break, I had to be bungee-corded to my seat. By the second commercial break, I had been replaced with Valerie Bertinelli.
Dry humping Courtney Love in the handicapped stall of the men’s washroom at Taco Bell - twice
Being recognized on the street
People would walk up to me and say – Hey, aren’t you Bob Saget? Are you sick or something? And then I would douse them with pepper spray, scream obscenities in an ambiguous German accent, and gobble a handful of non-descript pills from a bottle in my non-ironic Hardcastle & McCormick lunch box. Good times!
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The Eight Things I Enjoyed Most About Being A Supermodel
From 1990 to 1992, I worked part-time as a supermodel. As we all remember, scrawny, hirsute young men with mullets, crooked noses, and receding chins were the It Boys of the early nineties. And what a time it was! Here’s what I liked most:
The cocaine
Easily the best thing about being a supermodel - the access to drugs. And most of the time it was free! As a supermodel, people just wanted to give drugs to me, and I took them. Say what you want about the modeling industry, that it’s shallow and callous, that it hollows out your soul - but at least those people know how to share their blow. And it’s true what they say – your first high is always your best. That, and you really do burn out your septum.
The orgies
The craziest thing about having sex with twenty people? There was this one time where I spent twenty minutes licking some exposed flesh, then realized it was my own forearm. Crazy!
Pouting for obscene amounts of money
Imagine getting to be whiny and self-indulgent every day, then getting thousands of dollars and congratulations in return. Oh wait, I just described every student in our Creative Communications program here at the College. Except they do it for free.
The clothes
My only regret was that I arrived on the scene too late to get a Members Only jacket. But otherwise, I could snap my fingers and get anything I wanted. MC Hammer’s pants from the "U Can’t Touch This" video? Mine.
Throwing up after meals
The coke kept me from eating too much, the puking kept the weight off. I have never seen a weight loss program that could beat it. Of course, most weight-loss programs don’t include paranoid delusions as a side effect, but nothing is perfect.
The notoriety
In April of 1991, at the peak of my fame, I appeared on Hollywood Squares. By then I was well-known for being wrecked all the time, but for some reason they put me in the top left-hand corner square. By the first commercial break, I had to be bungee-corded to my seat. By the second commercial break, I had been replaced with Valerie Bertinelli.
Dry humping Courtney Love in the handicapped stall of the men’s washroom at Taco Bell - twice
Being recognized on the street
People would walk up to me and say – Hey, aren’t you Bob Saget? Are you sick or something? And then I would douse them with pepper spray, scream obscenities in an ambiguous German accent, and gobble a handful of non-descript pills from a bottle in my non-ironic Hardcastle & McCormick lunch box. Good times!
2004/06/21
HEADLINES: Six Year Old Threatens To Behead Barbie Doll If Demands Not Met…Federal NDP “So Excited” To Be Relevant…Paris Hilton Develops Immunity To Gonorrhea…Bill Cosby Even Crazier…Apprentice Renewed Through 3013, Trump Investigates Cryogenics…Nation’s Fathers Thought About Their Kids, Wept, Got Drunk
BREAKING NEWS
WINNIPEG - Blacque Jacques Shellaque, cartoon character and sworn enemy of Bugs Bunny, has entered the race to become Winnipeg’s next mayor.
At a press conference in St. Boniface, along the banks of the Red River, the two-dimensional Shellaque displayed his campaign signs for reporters.
While Shellaque was short of ideas to repair the city’s failing infrastructure, he did unveil drawings for a series of dams. Starting with a simple pile of rocks and progressing to a monolithic structure over 200 feet high, Shellaque pledged each dam would be more secure than the last.
“I bet you can’t blow up thees dam!” bellowed the stocky, mustachioed Frenchman as he displayed each blueprint to the assembled media.
Experts do not consider Shellaque’s late entry to be a handicap, even though he can only be elected if voters write his name on their ballots tomorrow. The pundits predict Shellaque will be in a dead heat with front-runner Sam Katz by the time polls open on Tuesday.
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BREAKING NEWS
WINNIPEG - Blacque Jacques Shellaque, cartoon character and sworn enemy of Bugs Bunny, has entered the race to become Winnipeg’s next mayor.
At a press conference in St. Boniface, along the banks of the Red River, the two-dimensional Shellaque displayed his campaign signs for reporters.
While Shellaque was short of ideas to repair the city’s failing infrastructure, he did unveil drawings for a series of dams. Starting with a simple pile of rocks and progressing to a monolithic structure over 200 feet high, Shellaque pledged each dam would be more secure than the last.
“I bet you can’t blow up thees dam!” bellowed the stocky, mustachioed Frenchman as he displayed each blueprint to the assembled media.
Experts do not consider Shellaque’s late entry to be a handicap, even though he can only be elected if voters write his name on their ballots tomorrow. The pundits predict Shellaque will be in a dead heat with front-runner Sam Katz by the time polls open on Tuesday.
2004/06/17
Bloc Quebecois Candidate Struggling
EASTEND, SK - Andre Lambert hates door-to-door canvassing the most.
“I tell them who I am, and they look puzzled,” says the Bloc Quebecois (BQ) candidate running in the upcoming federal election. “They wonder what I’m doing there, or they swear at me, and then they slam the door.”
Lambert is the only BQ candidate running outside of Quebec. He is trying to unseat the incumbent MP in the riding of Cypress Creek, Saskatchewan.
Preaching Quebec separatism in the Prairie breadbasket, Lambert’s message often falls on deaf ears.
“Sometimes they do let me speak,” says Lambert, who lost several nomination contests in his home province. “They ask me what I would do about the farm crisis, the BSE scare and so on. And I tell them I will have no time for that, because as their member of parliament, I will be busier than a one-legged man in an ass-kicking contest, trying to separate Quebec from Canada!”
“Some people, they have punched me in the face,” says Lambert, sporting a crooked nose and two black eyes. “But these fools, don’t they read the papers? As a committed sovereigntist and member of the Bloc, I have no time for their petty concerns!”
BQ spokesman Daniel Biron-de-Lafayette says the party has “grudgingly” offered support to Lambert, even though he has little chance of winning, and even less chance of helping the Bloc’s cause should he win the Saskatchewan seat.
“He is so revved up to do this, and I think we’re morbidly curious more than anything,” says Biron-de-Lafayette. “We gave him some gas money and a perdiem allowance. He got into his Citroen 2CV and headed west. If we ever seem him again I will be very surprised.”
Lambert sleeps in the driver’s seat of his tiny car. He subsists on a diet of stale French bread, cheap red wine, and Black Cat cigarettes. He is wistful about his chances of winning, and about his life expectancy.
“I am prepared to die for my cause,” says the bruised and battered Lambert as he tries to toast the heel of a baguette with his car’s cigarette lighter. “Throughout our history, great patriots have been persecuted for their beliefs. For example, some teenagers out here, they shaved my eyebrows and gave me a, how do you say, an atomic wedgie. But I will fight on, even with pancaked testicles.”
Area residents plan to complain among each other about that beret-totin’ pansy, passively calling for his expulsion from the region. Petitions will be organized, meetings will be held, and Lambert will go nowhere. Quietly, residents will pray that Crazy Ted Wabash, a committed redneck and former Alliance Party candidate, will finally get early parole, come home, and kill the little French f***er with his bare hands.
But Wabash’s early parole will be delayed a few weeks, because he stabbed a guard last Thursday during an attempted escape. And Lambert has learned a moving target is harder to kill.
“I never park in the same place two nights in a row,” says Lambert. “Last time I did that, some kids, they threw flaming dog poop onto my front seat. Let’s see if they’re still throwing feces when I’m their MP. Or should I say, when I’m their MP, will they still jettent la merde de chien flamboyante?”
Lambert then did that chuckle, the one that smug French bastards do, and drove to his next campaign event, a dine-and-dash at the Pizza Hut in Swift Current.
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EASTEND, SK - Andre Lambert hates door-to-door canvassing the most.
“I tell them who I am, and they look puzzled,” says the Bloc Quebecois (BQ) candidate running in the upcoming federal election. “They wonder what I’m doing there, or they swear at me, and then they slam the door.”
Lambert is the only BQ candidate running outside of Quebec. He is trying to unseat the incumbent MP in the riding of Cypress Creek, Saskatchewan.
Preaching Quebec separatism in the Prairie breadbasket, Lambert’s message often falls on deaf ears.
“Sometimes they do let me speak,” says Lambert, who lost several nomination contests in his home province. “They ask me what I would do about the farm crisis, the BSE scare and so on. And I tell them I will have no time for that, because as their member of parliament, I will be busier than a one-legged man in an ass-kicking contest, trying to separate Quebec from Canada!”
“Some people, they have punched me in the face,” says Lambert, sporting a crooked nose and two black eyes. “But these fools, don’t they read the papers? As a committed sovereigntist and member of the Bloc, I have no time for their petty concerns!”
BQ spokesman Daniel Biron-de-Lafayette says the party has “grudgingly” offered support to Lambert, even though he has little chance of winning, and even less chance of helping the Bloc’s cause should he win the Saskatchewan seat.
“He is so revved up to do this, and I think we’re morbidly curious more than anything,” says Biron-de-Lafayette. “We gave him some gas money and a perdiem allowance. He got into his Citroen 2CV and headed west. If we ever seem him again I will be very surprised.”
Lambert sleeps in the driver’s seat of his tiny car. He subsists on a diet of stale French bread, cheap red wine, and Black Cat cigarettes. He is wistful about his chances of winning, and about his life expectancy.
“I am prepared to die for my cause,” says the bruised and battered Lambert as he tries to toast the heel of a baguette with his car’s cigarette lighter. “Throughout our history, great patriots have been persecuted for their beliefs. For example, some teenagers out here, they shaved my eyebrows and gave me a, how do you say, an atomic wedgie. But I will fight on, even with pancaked testicles.”
Area residents plan to complain among each other about that beret-totin’ pansy, passively calling for his expulsion from the region. Petitions will be organized, meetings will be held, and Lambert will go nowhere. Quietly, residents will pray that Crazy Ted Wabash, a committed redneck and former Alliance Party candidate, will finally get early parole, come home, and kill the little French f***er with his bare hands.
But Wabash’s early parole will be delayed a few weeks, because he stabbed a guard last Thursday during an attempted escape. And Lambert has learned a moving target is harder to kill.
“I never park in the same place two nights in a row,” says Lambert. “Last time I did that, some kids, they threw flaming dog poop onto my front seat. Let’s see if they’re still throwing feces when I’m their MP. Or should I say, when I’m their MP, will they still jettent la merde de chien flamboyante?”
Lambert then did that chuckle, the one that smug French bastards do, and drove to his next campaign event, a dine-and-dash at the Pizza Hut in Swift Current.
2004/06/09
Damn!
In high school, a lot of guys went to house parties to get laid. And they really did get laid! No wonder those guys walked the halls with a ballsy swagger, they got stuff done! As for me at house parties, I know now that I should have ventured out of the kitchen more often! Maybe someone desperate, perhaps with just three weeks to live, or a hare lip, would have given me a roll, so to speak. But then again, I doubt it. Damn!
* * *
The use of chloroform in a handkerchief to subdue a potential kidnap victim was really just a convention utilized on television shows and in movies. In reality, using an imprecise dose of chloroform could actually kill the intended victim, essentially thwarting any kidnap plan. Is that why they don’t use chloroform on TV anymore, because we’re so caught up in all the reality this-and-that? Damn!
* * *
Tony Randall just played gay characters. He was not actually gay. What an actor! Damn!
* * *
There’s a documentary in release right now that shows a guy getting really sick from eating fast food. I knew it could make you fat, but I had no idea it could kill you. Mind you, if you drink too much water you can die, so I guess anything is possible. Damn!
* * *
Rock Hudson played guys who got it on with women, like, all the time. But in real life he was actually gay! What an actor! Damn!
* * *
When a pro athlete earns 10 million dollars in one season, he doesn’t actually put 10 million dollars in his pocket. No, he has to pay a lot of bills first. Taxes, managers, agents, trainers, steroids, cocaine, prostitutes, alimony, child support, and for many players, hush money to cover up a dirty little secret of some kind. A guy with ten million dollars might only have one million after all is said and done. No wonder these guys play for so many years, until they’re a pathetic shell of their former selves. I feel bad for them, because I sure won’t be doing my job for even one minute past my prime. Mind you, I have an excellent pension plan, so I can retire early. But only if I pay off my mortgage on time, and I doubt that’ll happen, considering how much I spend on low-carb beer. Damn!
* * *
People who grew up in the city are no more savvy than those who grew up in the country. I think this has always been true, but widespread internet access for country bumpkins has probably taken care of any lingering doubts. Now us street-smart urban types can only prey upon recent immigrants with limited English skills. I sense they have more than a few tricks up their sleeves. But I don't know this for sure, since I don’t speak Mandarin. Damn!
* * *
Sometimes awards go to people who don’t really deserve them. Like the time that Gwyneth Paltrow won an Oscar for Shakespeare in Love. It turns out she stole the script from Winona Ryder! Winona would have kicked ass in that role, especially if Ethan Hawke had played Shakespeare. It would have been like Reality Bites Part Deux! I have a sneaking suspicion that Winona shoplifted partly because of her angst over losing that role and the acclaim that came with it. And she also shoplifted because she’s f***ing nuts, I suspect. Not that her insanity makes me want to bone her any less. Damn!
* * *
I always thought The Sopranos was overrated. But it’s not bad. I’ve missed the whole series, except for the last two episodes, so I can only imagine how much more I’d like it if I just knew what the hell was going on. Damn!
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In high school, a lot of guys went to house parties to get laid. And they really did get laid! No wonder those guys walked the halls with a ballsy swagger, they got stuff done! As for me at house parties, I know now that I should have ventured out of the kitchen more often! Maybe someone desperate, perhaps with just three weeks to live, or a hare lip, would have given me a roll, so to speak. But then again, I doubt it. Damn!
* * *
The use of chloroform in a handkerchief to subdue a potential kidnap victim was really just a convention utilized on television shows and in movies. In reality, using an imprecise dose of chloroform could actually kill the intended victim, essentially thwarting any kidnap plan. Is that why they don’t use chloroform on TV anymore, because we’re so caught up in all the reality this-and-that? Damn!
* * *
Tony Randall just played gay characters. He was not actually gay. What an actor! Damn!
* * *
There’s a documentary in release right now that shows a guy getting really sick from eating fast food. I knew it could make you fat, but I had no idea it could kill you. Mind you, if you drink too much water you can die, so I guess anything is possible. Damn!
* * *
Rock Hudson played guys who got it on with women, like, all the time. But in real life he was actually gay! What an actor! Damn!
* * *
When a pro athlete earns 10 million dollars in one season, he doesn’t actually put 10 million dollars in his pocket. No, he has to pay a lot of bills first. Taxes, managers, agents, trainers, steroids, cocaine, prostitutes, alimony, child support, and for many players, hush money to cover up a dirty little secret of some kind. A guy with ten million dollars might only have one million after all is said and done. No wonder these guys play for so many years, until they’re a pathetic shell of their former selves. I feel bad for them, because I sure won’t be doing my job for even one minute past my prime. Mind you, I have an excellent pension plan, so I can retire early. But only if I pay off my mortgage on time, and I doubt that’ll happen, considering how much I spend on low-carb beer. Damn!
* * *
People who grew up in the city are no more savvy than those who grew up in the country. I think this has always been true, but widespread internet access for country bumpkins has probably taken care of any lingering doubts. Now us street-smart urban types can only prey upon recent immigrants with limited English skills. I sense they have more than a few tricks up their sleeves. But I don't know this for sure, since I don’t speak Mandarin. Damn!
* * *
Sometimes awards go to people who don’t really deserve them. Like the time that Gwyneth Paltrow won an Oscar for Shakespeare in Love. It turns out she stole the script from Winona Ryder! Winona would have kicked ass in that role, especially if Ethan Hawke had played Shakespeare. It would have been like Reality Bites Part Deux! I have a sneaking suspicion that Winona shoplifted partly because of her angst over losing that role and the acclaim that came with it. And she also shoplifted because she’s f***ing nuts, I suspect. Not that her insanity makes me want to bone her any less. Damn!
* * *
I always thought The Sopranos was overrated. But it’s not bad. I’ve missed the whole series, except for the last two episodes, so I can only imagine how much more I’d like it if I just knew what the hell was going on. Damn!
2004/06/01
From The Files Of Chad LaChance, Aborted Sleuth
Chad LaChance, a 19-year-old convenience store clerk and part-time detective, recently released a number of his old case files for public consumption. Chad, a recovering frappacino addict, has yet to solve an actual case. In fact, he has yet to be hired for actual detective work. But his perseverance triumphs over the collective indifference of potential clients. Here’s a look at a few of his efforts…
#04-0504: The Case Of The American Idol Winner
May 5th, 2004 – At home, watching television with his sister Lana
CHAD: Looking at the screen right now, I can tell you with absolute certainty which one of those people will become the next American Idol.
LANA: Really? You know which one of those people will win? Amazing.
CHAD: Not amazing, just a careful process of deduction, really.
LANA: I’d say it’s amazing, since we’re not even watching American Idol.
CHAD: We’re not? What’s this then?
LANA: An old episode of Happy Days.
CHAD: And so it is, but I’m still going with Potsie.
#03-1114: The Case Of The Missing Teamster
November 14th, 2003 – At the Miller family’s bungalow in suburban Phoenix
CHAD: In any missing persons case, the first 48 hours are the most critical.
MR. MILLER: Good grief, Jimmy Hoffa’s been missing for 29 years!
CHAD: Please sir, try to contain your emotions. That’s exactly why family members don’t go looking for their loved ones…
MR. MILLER: Family members? I’m not related to Jimmy Hoffa! I’m not even looking for him!
CHAD: Wait a minute! This is Apartment 6, 1213 Radcliffe Street, is it not?
MR. MILLER: Not even close. This is 92 Cherry Tree Lane.
CHAD: Ah, but we are in the city of Detroit, right?
MR. MILLER: This is Phoenix, Arizona! Are you stupid?
CHAD: Not stupid, sir, just doggedly focused on clearing this case. I’ll let myself out.
#02-0629: The Case of the Co-opted Cocoa Puffs
June 29th, 2002 – In the LaChance kitchen, with his mom
CHAD: Mom, what happened to the Cocoa Puffs?
MOM: Don’t you remember? We-
CHAD: I suspect our baby sitter was involved in this somehow. She had motive and opportunity, the vital ingredients for a petty theft. I’ll dust for prints.
MOM: Son, you really don’t need to-
CHAD: No trouble, mom. I carry my limited edition "CSI" Junior Forensics Kit, autographed by supporting cast member George Eads , everywhere I go. Won’t take more than a moment to dust this cupboard…
MOM: Chad, sweetie, we ran out Cocoa Puffs yesterday. Don’t you remember? You ate the last bowl.
CHAD: I guess it’s true what they say… one really can be cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs.
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Chad LaChance, a 19-year-old convenience store clerk and part-time detective, recently released a number of his old case files for public consumption. Chad, a recovering frappacino addict, has yet to solve an actual case. In fact, he has yet to be hired for actual detective work. But his perseverance triumphs over the collective indifference of potential clients. Here’s a look at a few of his efforts…
#04-0504: The Case Of The American Idol Winner
May 5th, 2004 – At home, watching television with his sister Lana
CHAD: Looking at the screen right now, I can tell you with absolute certainty which one of those people will become the next American Idol.
LANA: Really? You know which one of those people will win? Amazing.
CHAD: Not amazing, just a careful process of deduction, really.
LANA: I’d say it’s amazing, since we’re not even watching American Idol.
CHAD: We’re not? What’s this then?
LANA: An old episode of Happy Days.
CHAD: And so it is, but I’m still going with Potsie.
#03-1114: The Case Of The Missing Teamster
November 14th, 2003 – At the Miller family’s bungalow in suburban Phoenix
CHAD: In any missing persons case, the first 48 hours are the most critical.
MR. MILLER: Good grief, Jimmy Hoffa’s been missing for 29 years!
CHAD: Please sir, try to contain your emotions. That’s exactly why family members don’t go looking for their loved ones…
MR. MILLER: Family members? I’m not related to Jimmy Hoffa! I’m not even looking for him!
CHAD: Wait a minute! This is Apartment 6, 1213 Radcliffe Street, is it not?
MR. MILLER: Not even close. This is 92 Cherry Tree Lane.
CHAD: Ah, but we are in the city of Detroit, right?
MR. MILLER: This is Phoenix, Arizona! Are you stupid?
CHAD: Not stupid, sir, just doggedly focused on clearing this case. I’ll let myself out.
#02-0629: The Case of the Co-opted Cocoa Puffs
June 29th, 2002 – In the LaChance kitchen, with his mom
CHAD: Mom, what happened to the Cocoa Puffs?
MOM: Don’t you remember? We-
CHAD: I suspect our baby sitter was involved in this somehow. She had motive and opportunity, the vital ingredients for a petty theft. I’ll dust for prints.
MOM: Son, you really don’t need to-
CHAD: No trouble, mom. I carry my limited edition "CSI" Junior Forensics Kit, autographed by supporting cast member George Eads , everywhere I go. Won’t take more than a moment to dust this cupboard…
MOM: Chad, sweetie, we ran out Cocoa Puffs yesterday. Don’t you remember? You ate the last bowl.
CHAD: I guess it’s true what they say… one really can be cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs.
