The Gospel According to John

Things You Need: Emails From Crazy People

 
I mean, I don't really know what else to tell you. It's a website compiling emails from crazy people. There is nothing here NOT to want and love. The ever-savvy Miss Kate has bestowed this treasure upon us, and we will all never be the same.

There are ones such as this, where the submitter begins,

"I’m not even sure where to start in explaining how crazy this guy is…a) His name isn’t Larry..."

which sounds like a perfectly good place to start to me.

Or, there are ones such as this, wherein a newspaper editor is warned,

"Look, its time to realize that woman aren’t people. They just repeat yesterday all over again each day. If you listen to their conversations, you will note the absence of verbs. They can’t do life. They can’t do Earth. You shouldn’t have all your staff positions occupied by non-humans. It shows in your Alumnus magazine. Fake nonsense is not a good idea."

So true!

But none of them--not one--compare to the unfettered batshittery--and, it must be said, sexiness, of the following:

Babies and Old Men: Who's More Terrifying?

God, it's been a week, huh? Hysterics over flu (step away from the mainstream media and get the facts people. It ain't no thang) and Obama on the telly talking about all our troubles and Chrysler going bankrupt and going a whole week knowing Bea Arthur is no longer in the world and OH MY GOD MAKE IT STOP.

I know. And we're almost there. 

But as we all know, the last couple hours of a Friday afternoon are the toughest to endure. Which is why I am gifting you with two of everyone's favorite things: 

An old man and a baby.

 

'citing, no? Over the jump with you!

URGENT BULLETIN

It has come to my attention that some persons in my close circle have not yet been made aware of the jaw-dropping, outer-limits inanity that is Lindsay Lohan's Fornarina commercial. 

It direly important that if the phrase "Lindsay Lohan's Fornarina commercial" does not stir recognition in your brain, and rather incites you to say, "What in the ever-loving hell is a Fornarina?", that you watch this immediately. It's old news--I figured you all knew about it by now so I didn't bother--but the ever-savvy Miss Kate was ignorant of its...its...whatever-I-don't-even-know that I felt the need to make absolutely certain that it has reached everyone possible.

Again, I cannot underestimate the expediency with which you must watch this video if you haven't already. It trumps the Samantha Ronson/Lindsay Lohan BLB--that's Big Lesbian Breakup--it trumps Lindsay's recent appearance in that faux eHarmony ad, it trumps the financial crisis, it trumps human rights in Darfur, it trumps everything.

So, without further ado (until, of course, the video's done, and we point and laugh), and also partly in honor of the fact that Lindsay is appearing on Ellen today:

Craigslist Treasures--IN REAL LIFE!!

Well sort of. Not technically from Craigslist. It was from some other website.

BUT! It’s every bit as amazing and arousing and nauseating as our regular Craigslist Treasures, but with extra spice cuz it happened to someone we (I and my non-existent editorial team) know! Like, personally!

I know!

So skip to my loo (what does that MEAN exactly? Were this England, it would mean skip to my bathroom, which makes NONE sense and is kind of, you know, eeuuggh) or some other euphemism for jumping!

Craigslist Treasures

It’s been a while since our last Craigslist Treasures, the feature wherein we (meaning, as always, me, you and my nonexistent editorial team) take a look at the absolutely, fully and actively insane people posting dating ads on Craigslist. Huzzah!

Recently, I have had submitted to me by my sources (by which I mean I discovered myself whilst perusing Craigslist as a means of cutting the boredom of work by indulging in cyber-schadenfreude) a specimen so tantalizing, I can scarcely contain my erection. (Good God! Uncalled for.)

It begins thusly:

 

Who doesn’t! So do like the Pointer Sisters and jump! For his love!

DIY Literary Success

So as you some of you guys know, I write stuff sometimes. And one of the things I sometimes write is this novel I've been picking at for like, six years and for which there is still no finish date in sight (oh yeah, that whole December 31, 2008 thing? SO not happening anymore. Thanks though).

Writing is an arduous task made worse by the fact that once you finish the damn thing you have to try to find an agent that gives enough of a flying fistfuck about your 500-page diatribe about the triumph of the human spirit vis-a-vis coming of age in contemporary America or what-the-fuck-ever you're farting on about to actually read it and then feel confident enough in your talents to sign you and then have enough balls to pound on the doors of publishing houses and convince them that you are, in fact, the next David Foster Wallace (may he rest in peace) and that they should, in fact, give you a check for a sizable sum of money up front before even knowing if anyone will even buy the book, which they won't, because nobody buys books anymore except nerds, academics, and romance-novel enthusiasts.

So, yeah. Arduous.

But it needn't be any longer. Nowadays, you can skip all that and self-publish, like the crafty author of this masterpiece, who decided to take matters into her own hands--bless the Baby Gee for it:

There's really no need to say anything, is there?

Yes there is: there needs to be a drinking game where you read this book cover-to-cover and take a shot every time LaTawnya et. al. use the phrase "smoking drugs and drinking," I had no idea that horse farms had become such hopeless, crime-ridden cesspools, and that I am inspired anew to finish my novel.

Oh, also? Here's the author's bio:

"Thank you, God" indeed.

Source and Source

Of Shark Bites and Bandanas with Julie

Wow.

The wackjobs that post on Craigslist (and no, posting sex ads doesn't count, so you can breathe easy) have really been kicking out the jams y'all! 

Last week, we had the dating masterpiece sent by reader (but only when he's reminded to) and non-commenter (because he doesn't take an active role in anything--yes, including THAT [tee hee!] {Just kidding, I actually have no idea which role he assumes in that situation--well, yes I do, but it's not my place to divulge--but you can feel free to ask him when next you see him}]) Timm, in which a very galant, dashing, and persuasive gent invited us over for buttsex and Super Mario Bros.

THIS week, we have the following gem from reader and frequent commenter and all-around good gal--even in the face of deeply awkward pantry-related adversity (you'll have to ask her, because I'm not telling)--AMS, who sent the following my way:

Wow.

There is a LOT going on here. But the most important thing, in case you missed it, and how could you, but just in case:

THE THIEF IN QUESTION IS CURRENTLY ON DISABILITY BECAUSE OF A SHARK BITE.

No wonder he's breaking and entering! I mean, what's a guy to do when he's been bitten by a shark bite? Your options are pretty slim pickin's when that fate has befallen you. I suppose when you examine it all closely, you really have no other recourse but to adopt 7--SEVEN--aliases and start breaking into peoples' homes.

The real tragedy here, though, is that it sounds like he was really showing some promise, like there was real hope of him turning things around, what with his burgeoning bandana-designing business with the lovely Julie. I mean, that's a business plan that can only be win-win! 

I really hope that the victim of this crime, once she has recovered from the shock of being robbed, will use this all for good, holding Thomas Blue/Boy Blue/Thomas E. Blue/Tom Blue/Omar Amid Jaber/Omar Amid Jabar/Omar Edward Jaber up as an example of how the system is FAILING the victims of shark bites! 

I mean, come on! How many Thomas Blue/Boy Blue/Thomas E. Blue/Tom Blue/Omar Amid Jaber/Omar Amid Jabar/Omar Edward Jabers does there need to BE before people start LISTENING and RECOGNIZING the extraordinary hurdles that victims of shark bites must face EVERY DAY? 

Are we all so blinded by our fully functional, intact, not shark-bitten limbs that we have become THIS complacent?! Thomas Blue/Boy Blue/Thomas E. Blue/Tom Blue/Omar Amid Jaber/Omar Amid Jabar/Omar Edward Jaber had EVERYTHING going for him! He and Julie were going to realize their dream of designing bandanas! 

But a man with a shark bite can only wallow in the dark, dark places a shark bite takes a man's soul for so long before he crumbles, and has to resort to breaking and entering through people's kitchen ceilings via common attic entrances.

Please--PLEASE--I beg you: remember Thomas Blue/Boy Blue/Thomas E. Blue/Tom Blue/Omar Amid Jaber/Omar Amid Jabar/Omar Edward Jaber. Don't let shark bites ruin the lives of people you care about.

Thank you.

Thanks AMS

Line up, ladies!!

Now I know there's lots of single ladies frequenting this little bloggy blog, and many of them are of an age where singledom has become...a touch worrisome. I understand. Being a single lady of sorts myself (the sort that, of course, has a penis), and one who is approaching a *ahem* certain AGE (that being, of course, 25), I completely understand the vague worrisome feeling that accompanies long-term singlehood. It's not so much a feeling of FEAR per se; rather, it's more a nagging, non-stop mental marquee that constantly flashes things like "Oh my God, I'm going to die alone" and "Oh my God, everyone's wondering what's wrong with me" and "Oh my God, what if I smell or something?" and "Oh my God, it's been so long since I've had sex what if I've forgotten how?!" and "OH MY FUCKING GOD!" and "JESUS FUCKING CHRIST!" and "FUCK! FUCKING FUCK! SHIT! FUCKING SHIT! FUCK!"

You know, your basic low-grade concern.

Well my ladies, you needn't worry any longer. For I, John the Craptist, have found you the man of your dreams.

But like--OF YOUR DREAMS.

He is such a gem--such a rare, rare treat--that your married and/or coupled-off friends are going to be so jealous, they will dive at your jugular with a nail file. Your own brothers are going to stop in their tracks and think, "You know? I really dig tits. But sometimes? I can't help but wonder, would it really be all THAT BAD to be buggered up-the-buttways?" (Oh shut up, it's funny.) He is such a diamond in the rough that even I am considering having a vagina and breasts surgically added to my physique so as to lure him into my lair. 

He hails from the great city of Orlando, and I found him on Craigslist--now I know what you're thinking: "John the Craptist, only wackjobs and psychopaths and people who can't get a proper date and sluts who like to be peed on get dates on Craigslist!"

And?

But more importantly, I say: this is why I called him a diamond in the rough! For amongst the mess of fuckwits and rapists and ex-convicts and racists and child-touchers and people begging to let them examine your excrement and people who want you to dress up like Shelly Winters and re-enact scenes from The Poseidon Adventure except naked and 24-yr-old know-it-alls who offer to cook you a romantic dinner for the express purpose of trying to convince you to change your mind and give your Primary vote to Hillary Clinton--and I'm not kidding--is a gem so bright, so multi-faceted and sparkling, that you will scarcely be able to contain yourself. 

His headline alone sends me reeling. It is pure poetry:

As my friends over here might put it, *has multiple white wees*

Now I want to caution you for a moment. This gentleman, this roué, this CAD, has quite a way with words. I strongly suggest that before you read on, you make sure you are ALONE, in a location both securable and private (behind a locked door should do), and that you have a pack of cigarettes handy, just in case. Because it will quickly seem as though your computer screen is making sweet, sweet love to you just the way you like it and you will lose all of your faculties, and be desirous of a nicotine dessert.

Are you ready? Okay. Here we go. I defy you to retain your composure.

(Oh. By the way, if you're having trouble seeing the image below, you can just download this)

*wipes sweat from brow*

My God, it's like reading a romance novel, innit? 

Thoughts:

1. Re: paragraph 5: Oh you'll HEAR the fucking fireworks. Trust.

2. My but he's bossy! Am unable to decide whether this is benefit or detriment.

3: I wonder: during game, if player catches one of those star things that make one invincible and make whole game go twice as fast, does suitor double thrusting speed in accordance with tempo of Super Mario Bros. soundtrack in effort to keep entire experience as organic as possible? 

4: Again, re: paragraph 5 (lots going on in paragraph 5): Would very much like to know what happens if player decides to be insolent and take "secret level skip."

5. Re: paragraph 7: Holy sweet merciful Jesus oh God was not prepared for that holy shit dear god what the fuck ass hell?!?!

6. Re: closing line: I appreciate a man who can be honest, straightforward, forthright, etc.

7. Had I known this was option for game play in 7th grade during daily after-school Mario sessions with troubled neighbor-girl, might I have turned out straight?...

7. Did I tell you or did I tell you?

8. Ladies, here you go

Thanks Timm

I have no idea what to even call this

All jokes aside, I have absolutely NO IDEA what to say about this. 

For real though. Like...I just... 

I mean, I know there is some crazy shit that goes down in the world everyday, but like...

I mean...I just... 

Okay. You know what this is like? This is kind of like finally actually watching a movie like, say, Gigli or Glitter, right? You knew the movie was bad, but now that you've watched it, you know HOW bad?

Okay, this video is like that, except with the world at large. You know that there are tons upon tons of just absolutely batshit people in the world, but now you know just HOW batshit.

http://view.break.com/534815 - Watch more free videos

To reiterate, in case your head exploded, that guy's name was No Nose Gardner, and that woman was kidnapped by her boyfriend, who then brought her back to the house to get her things before he gets carted off to jail for what she calls abduction but he calls "adult fun." 

I just...

Thanks Timm

And speaking of the subway...

This is pretty dope.

Here in New York, there's a group called Improv Everywhere. You may have heard of them, because they always cause a bit of a stir. They do large-scale, public acts of 'improv' around the city here. That video you may have seen a few months back of all the businesspeople in Grand Central Station stopping in their tracks and freezing for a moment or two? That was Improv Everywhere. They have a great website here

Their most recent outing was done on the subway. They organized several pairs of identical twins, dressed them in matching outfits, and had them all sit side-by-side on the benches of a subway car, with their twin sitting across from them on the other side--creating a "human mirror." Of course, regular Average Joes subsequently got on the train, not realizing what was going on. Their reactions are fascinating (and, incidentally, the point of each Improv Everywhere exercise). Here's a clip:

Pretty cool, huh? Reminds me of stupid theatre school, where they would make us do that partnering exercise in acting class where you'd have to "mirror" each other--it was supposed to teach you to concentrate with your fellow actor and "connect" or whatever. It was one of those exercises where we were like "This is fuc*ing stupid," until we got a little bit into it and realized we were TOTALLY synchronized and not even trying--it was all just by locking on each other's eyes. Pretty fascinating what we humans are capable of, huh?

PS--At the Improv Everywhere site, make sure you check out the Food Court Musical. It will change your life.

Oh hell. I'll just embed it: