More Mere Foolishness and Frivolity
Dan Stone - 3/21/02
I hate really cutesy-wootsy ads for stuff that's bad for people... the
Zoloft folks have this really precious ad goin', it's a b&w animated
lil bean w/a face that's depressed and unhappy but gradually recovers, it's
cute as hell but the whole concept behind this advertising is selling America
a bullshit bill of goods regarding their own basic mental faculties and
abilities, denying the real, often overwhelming problems of real people
by pulling that "It's all in your mind!" ploy they enjoy foisting
on the suffering masses so much... the psychiatric profession is not much
of an adjunct of true scientific inquiry these days, nor would I call it
a mere tool in the Control Boys' seemingly infinite palette of slave unit
control mechanisms... it's actually a huge bunch of insane morons and pathological
liars who the Control Boys simply use to their advantage... it may sound
silly, but it bereaves me deeply that active damage is done to humanity
every time that wondrous lil bean hops across the screen; it's so sad, cuz
it really is so charming...
So here's my solution: I just take a big heapin' mouthful of Baby Prozac!...
now in Triblets, tri-active time-released tablets that are shaped like Pez
and sound silly as fuck, but contain real medicine to correct
your errant mind...
The problem with stopping for fast food downtown is knowing it's being
served to you by incredibly unhappy, extremely po' people... McDonalds oughta
just call 'em what they are, Unhappy Meals... cuz ya never know when you'll
get a little something extra in there, y'know? Lil' secret prizes: Mystery-Phlegm,
Ear Wax Dee-lite, Monster-Size Toe-Nail Clippin's, Super-Special
Sauce... collect all nine Secret Bonus Items!
Wes Craven sucks, he's the world's worst director... how this
idiot gets money to make the dreck he makes, it's just scary to think about
deeply...he has his characters do the dumbest things, there's no interior
logic at all to any of his scripts... I wonder if he has ANY personal sense
of logic himself, or if he's somehow logic-deficient and needs constant
attention or he'd be gettin' run over every time he goes out to get the
mail... me, I'm still waiting for the Wes Craven film where several kids
have been murdered already, and the pair of blonde bimbo siamese twins joined
at the hip hear a funny noise and just follow it without saying "Hey,
everybody... we heard a funny noise over there!"... instead they wander
off alone, not bothering to arm themselves with so much as an umbrella or
an old stick, travel several miles away from the others, up into the tower,
find a dead body, look at each other and simultaneously say, "Ohmigod--a
dead body!... let's split up!"
We have in my hometown of Cleveland a popular drycleaning service by
the name of Fussy Cleaners... thing is, their bright green neon sign is
designed with serif type, and the serifs on the F are so long and prominent
that they almost close the upper gap entirely... so from a first glance,
the sign seems to read Pussy Cleaners... this is so obvious, I just know
they did it on purpose... and I love it! Every time I see that sign, my
heart leaps with joy! It's just sooooo darn cute! Not to mention
hygenic.
At Christmas my parents used to tell us, "We're going to give you
the greatest gift of all: the gift of truth. And the truth is, we're broke...
as for the other kids, the ones who get presents?... their parents are a
bunch of goddamn liars."
There should be segregation between assholes and non-assholes. They can
have their own separate drinking fountains and schools and hospitals. We'd
only have to put warning labels on half of all the products, saving millions.
They tell you watch the ball, keep your eye on the ball, follow the bouncing
ball. Jesus Christ, what's this obsession with the fucking ball?
We have every kind of ball game here in America, but I've come
up with an idea for a new one: Assball. The object of the game is to catch
the ball in your ass. Now that game I'd watch.
So I threw out my cat... it's not like it was writing a great novel or
anything...
Want to know about my life? I could tell you stories. They'd be made
up... but they're good stories.
What kind of name is Keanu? This is obviously a case of a baby being
named by another baby.
Have you ever tried to take kids somewhere in a car for 24 hours? It's
like man going into space... it's really hard.
Jackson Hole's new tourist slogan: "Come on down, folks. It's warm
and wet and sooo deep here. Bring the whole family."
In my fantasy, instead of killing John Lennon, Mark Chapman douses Yoko
Ono with a bucket of water and she melts away, wailing horribly like one
of her albums. John snaps out of his spell: "Bloody 'ell! Where am
I?" Mark says, "Look, John, everyone could see it except you."
Immediately flowers grow up and bloom all around them in the New York streets;
the very next day Ronald Reagan is impeached and leaves office in disgrace.
The Non-Evil Dead: They bite you and when you scream, they get this real
concerned look on their face and say, "What's wrong?"
The CIA ought to watch some James Bond films and get some tips.
If you acquire too much power, you automatically become a Republican,
just as you become a zombie or a vampire when you get bitten by one.
Actually, when you become a Republican, you automatically become an honorary
vampire at least...
Maybe we should all grind our teeth together at once to show we're really
mad.
It's ridiculous to buy a baby shoes when it can't walk. It's like, why
not buy them a little tiny toothbrush while you're at it? | 
