Thursday, 31 March 2022

Points in Case

Points in Case

A List of Numbers Lower than My Monthly Student Loan Payment

Posted: 31 Mar 2022 05:00 AM PDT

4.8: My GPA when I graduated top of my class in high school.

5: Percentage of my college tuition covered by the inaugural Just a Taste of Hope Ayn Rand Memorial Scholarship.

7: The number of meals I can get out of one “Two for $25″s at Chili's.

14.7: The interest rate on my private student loans that I was coerced into signing in a dark forest under the hush of night.

99: Problems and yes, actually, a bitch is all of them. I have 99 roommates and they all are awful.

100: Percentage of my academic scholarship that went towards a required seminar titled “Ayn Rand: It's Kind of Poor People's Faults They're Poor.”

127: My monthly budget for gas, groceries, and a $5 Literotica Premium subscription.

147: The number of dates I've gone on with men whose favorite book is Infinite Jest so I could get a free meal.

182: The number of way-too-intimate first date picnics I've taken women on because I couldn't afford to take them to a physical restaurant.

202.06: The amount of interest that capitalizes on my loans every day. See also: the percent my will to live decreases every day.

666: The number of times I've tried selling my soul to the Devil in exchange for paying off my loans.

777: The number of Gods I've turned to for help.

1,200: How much Roommate Number 47's parents give her a month for allowance. See also: How much Roommate Number 47 spends on margaritas and bikini waxes per month.

1,443: The number of times, collectively, that God, The Devil, and Ayn Rand weren't there for me.

1,473: Months left until I'm debt-free.

Introducing the Sam Super Loyalty Card

Posted: 30 Mar 2022 05:00 AM PDT

Greetings, spouse, valued friend, family member, co-worker, or acquittance. I'm writing to you today to inform you of an exciting and exclusive opportunity to join the latest innovation in all things Sam: the Sam Super Loyalty Card.

What is the Sam Super Loyalty Card?
Great question. It's a loyalty card that gives you access to me, a man who can, without reservation or hesitation, be definitively ranked as one of the top eight billion humans on earth.

So wait, I can't meet with you/speak to you/copulate with you without a loyalty card?
Unfortunately not! As of the start of next month, I will only be scheduling work meetings, having catchups, attending bottomless brunches, initiating sexual liaisons, and offering invaluable advice to Sam Super Loyalty Card holders.

I really have to pay you?
Yes. But you can choose between three tiers, each with different perks. There's Desperado ($44.99 a month), Hotel California ($99.95 a month), and One of These Nights ($150.99 a month). I've ranked each based on my favourite Eagles albums instead of precious metals. Unconventional, but this is my club. I can do what I like.

But I'm your boss? I need to be able to speak with you.
That's great! I suggest you sign up for the One of These Nights tier, which offers 30 interactions a month. That will give us ample time for any briefings, presentations, or brainstormings required. Also, to ensure a harmonious workplace, consider the Enterprise Edition of the Sam Super Loyalty Card. For one reasonable, barely four-figure monthly sum, it gives the entire office unlimited monthly interactions with me (please note, Paul from Marketing is excluded from this offer. He knows why).

But I'm your wife? You can't expect me to buy a membership?
Unfortunately, I do. Luckily, there's a special Spousal Membership. At $250 a month, It includes unlimited interactions, the creation of three new nicknames for you a year, a promise to take out the garbage, and a weekly 30-minute session where I listen to you complain about your sister. It'll also include up to five lovemaking sessions a month. (With a special complimentary bonus session on our anniversary and your birthday).

How does it work?
Simply present your card when we meet, and I will verify it. Please be aware that if you forget your card, I will be unable to proceed with our interaction unless you pay a $99.99 penance. I know that seems harsh. But if I make an exception for you, soon I'm making exceptions for everyone. And if I'm doing that, what's the point of having a Sam Super Loyalty Card program in the first place?

Will the interactions I'm paying for be good?
Yes! You'll be getting me at my peak. I'm going to try to make each experience the best it can be. I'll offer you curated music recommendations based on what you'll like, not just what will make me look smart. I'll nod and agree with your thoughts on the Ukraine conflict, no matter what they are. When you recommend me a piece of media, I will smile and politely say, "thanks, I'll add it to my list," even if I've already seen it or have no intention of seeing it. If we're out drinking, I will farewell you like an adult, not just say I'm going to the toilet and then disappear home to watch several episodes of Alone.

Is this just a thinly disguised way to raise funds for the several legal proceedings against you and your multiple failed businesses?
Absolutely not! In fact, I'm tempted to ban you from being issued a Sam Super Loyalty Card just for implying that. However, I'll be willing to rescind that ban for a $500 atonement fee and a promise to act as a positive character witness at any upcoming legal proceedings.

Thank you for your time, and I look forward to your acceptance—along with the $99.99 application fee and a statutory declaration stating you trust me with your money and that I am a person of exceptional reliability.

Are You Ordering a Drink at a Crowded Bar or Picking Up Your Meds from the Local Pharmacy?

Posted: 29 Mar 2022 10:00 AM PDT

  1. You're standing in a crowded space, and no one has any respect for creating a line or any form of sensible structure.
  2. It's way too loud.
  3. There's at least one customer who is NOT having it.
  4. Random people keep jostling you to get to the front of the amorphous blob you've been waiting in for 30 minutes.
  5. A businessman on his phone loudly exclaims that he can't believe something so simple could be taking so long.
  6. You've run out of things to look at on your phone.
  7. They give you someone else's order.
  8. You've had to spell your name at least three times.
  9. You've tried to wave down the employees, but they're giving you the "one-moment" finger before ignoring you again.
  10. You have your card out and ready, showing the employees you can act fast and pay IMMEDIATELY.
  11. You've been asked "what was your order again?" at least six times.
  12. They give you someone else's order again.
  13. The credit card machine doesn't work, so they need to run the card manually.
  14. Someone else takes over because the computer isn't working.
  15. "Okay, just give me a couple minutes and I'll have it ready for you."
  16. One employee can be overheard saying "this is not what I thought I would be doing with my degree."
  17. There's at least one shift change and you have to go through the whole ordeal again.
  18. The bill is higher than expected.
  19. The cashier prints a new check because you pointed out that this is, once again, not what you ordered.
  20. The bill is still high, but at least it's the correct purchase.
  21. You finally have your items and leave, vowing that you will never come to this place again.

1-21: Crowded bar
1-21: Pharmacy

I Am the Improbable Fireball in Every Hollywood Action Movie, and I Demand a Lifetime Achievement Award

Posted: 29 Mar 2022 05:00 AM PDT

Members of the Academy, each year you claim to honor great filmmaking. And somehow you continually snub one of the industry's most gifted performers: me, Improbable Fireball! It's time to recognize my superlative artistry, distinguished contributions to world cinema, and unparalleled ability to blow shit up without dismembering anyone.

I blanket the sky with end-times conflagrations so actors can furrow their brows and do a slo-mo walk. I defy the laws of physics so their faces don't melt like hot cheese. I use telekinesis to keep shrapnel from impaling the entire crew. I am my own goddamn branch of science! And while I'm working my ass off in the background, the "hero" takes a Sunday stroll.

With a lesser talent, action-movie sequels would not exist. That's because everyone in the first film would be enjoying their new career as a charcoal briquette. No Bad Boys II or Bad Boys for Life.

But you dismiss my work as a "special effect," which only reveals your ignorance. I am an artist. My presence doesn't just save lives. It elevates sub-par material.

Like all great performers, I speak volumes without words. I also speak the language of music with my intricately composed BOOM BOOM-BOOM-BOOM BOOM! But that leitmotif goes unheard by your crass ears. I bet you think Rachmaninoff's “Piano Concerto No. 3” is basically 40 minutes of someone punching a piano.

Considering the Academy's total lack of respect, my treatment on set is no surprise. Do I get my own trailer? Sure, if that's what you call an empty oil drum behind the dumpster. None of my co-stars talk to me unless they need something. "Can you forge this knife set?" "Do you have a minute to vulcanize my tires?" "Will you help me make s'mores?"

It's insulting.

You might ask, "But Oscars are for actual people—how can we give a lifetime achievement award to a bunch of nitrogen, sulfur, oxygen, and potassium nitrate?" And I might ask, "Why must you cling to such a reductionist view of my craft?" Besides, humans are mostly chemical reactions and gas.

Destruction is a form of creation, and it requires a commitment to bold choices. Just as the Stanislavski Method asks, “What do I want?” and “How will I get it?” my billowing hellscapes arise from a fundamental question: “What should I reduce to ash?”

Audiences can't appreciate my artistic process because they don't even know I exist. When the credits roll, we see who played "Gas Station Attendant #2." But do we ever see "Epic Book-of-Revelations Inferno Soaring Majestically Above Former Gas Station," played by Improbable Fireball?

One person did recognize my raw talent, back when I worked in a restaurant as the kitchen pilot light. I was jazzing up the saganaki when Michael Bay walked in. The theatrics of cheese engulfed in flames really spoke to his artistic vision. He said to me, "The saganaki thing. Can you do that, but bigger and louder? With trucks and robots and giant space rocks?"

While I dutifully channeled my inner Götterdämmerung for those parts, I hoped the smoldering rebar would evoke pathos and show my range. But Hollywood chose to typecast me as a one-dimensional exothermic reaction. Never got a callback when I auditioned for more nuanced roles, like the birthday candles in Secrets & Lies. They always wanted someone more "round on the bottom," and "tapered on top," and "less like the Sun's core." In this business, you're either too hot or not hot enough.

You know what really hurts? All the choice combustion roles now end up “performed” by some CGI bullshit. After everything I've given to the genre, you're trading me for sterile, cartoonish flame-blobs?!

For decades, I've watched my peers collect awards for “a career filled with luminous performances" or "explosive on-screen presence." Yet here I am, the very definition of those things, without a single nomination for anything! Ever!!

I'm done being an industry outsider—the lone incandescent gas ball in a world full of gasbags. So guess who's making their off-off-Broadway debut next month in Hedda Gabler? That's right. I'm playing the lead and the stove!

Please Help, I’m Still Street Punk #5

Posted: 28 Mar 2022 10:00 AM PDT

Thanks for meeting me at the wharf at midnight. I'm just gonna pat you down right quick—nothing personal.

Here's the deal—I need a job. Specifically, I need an acting job I can sink my teeth into where I can become a character by losing or gaining sixty pounds, shaving off my eyebrows, living in a jungle, learning how to wield a sword, or driving a Formula One car . . . Basically whatever it takes to break the character of STREET PUNK #5 from 1985's Death Wish 3.

See, back in the eighties, actors didn't know the trouble you could get into when you dabbled in method acting. We thought staying fully in character for weeks on end was harmless.

Of course, we knew it was annoying to friends and family when we never stopped doing things like speaking in a Jersey accent every waking moment, or flying into a predictable rage when someone cut us off in traffic, but we had no idea how difficult it could be to break out of character when our movies wrapped.

You probably didn't get the memo about the situation since famous actors like DeNiro rafted over to another film and transformed into a different character, but for small fry method actors like me whose careers washed up almost as soon as they began, well, we weren't so lucky.

Being stuck in character as STREET PUNK #5 for almost forty years has caused me more than a bit of grief, what with my wild eyes, brutish attitude, hair-trigger temper, and of course, my bad habit of whipping out my switchblade around citizens, especially the do-gooder type who should mind their own beeswax while I'm stealing their fuckin' car.

Scores of girlfriends left me once they tired of my bad boy attitude, coke addiction, and astronomical hospital bills. It's been hard to get loans, and the only job I can keep is in pizza delivery. Even that can be a challenge when your hand is broken seventy-five percent of the time.

And the looks I get! When people see me with my mullet, Rising Sun bandana, sleeveless denim jacket, spiked wristband, motorcycle boots, and nonsensical war paint, it tends to make them nervous.

Not that I mind making straights nervous, but I attract a lot of police attention, and honestly, getting shot in the gut is getting kind of old.

This small time roughneck could really use a new role. I'm thinkin' maybe something "white hat" instead. You know, being a hero instead of a hood? You follow?

Maybe you know somebody in Hollywood, and you could make a call? Tell the big shots I'm game for any role they can find for a sixty-five year old with an almost non-existent acting resume who once shared a scene with screen legend Charles Bronson and is great at remembering single lines of dialog such as:

"Let's see the money, man!"

"What's it to you, asshole?"

And, "Now you're gonna die…"

I know it's a long shot, but here's the thing—I caught some of that Breaking Bad show a while back, and if that guy who played Mike Ehrmantraut can land a big fish, maybe there's hope for me.

OK, I think you got the picture, Starsky, so why don't you take a walk?

Go on, get me a job.

Get outta my face.
at

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