Writing

Let's be honest. Michelle Bachmann is wildly unqualified for any kind of public office. But more importantly, the vast amount of entertainment available to us is pretty awesome. And you know what makes good entertainment? Besides dick jokes? Good actors. I specify actors because print media is dead. Having the right actors makes or breaks a series. Of course, this means good actors are in high demand, resulting in the most talented actors being recycled. Which is where things get a little incestuous. Yes, right now the actor on screen may be playing a struggling suburban father. But just last week he was a Thai hooker. It gets confusing. That's why I endorse wholly embracing this phenomenon. Here are my suggestions: 

Well, after over six weeks, I have finally returned from my sabbatical in the wilderness that we know as Maine. After wandering through this desolate land of wannabe Stephen King terrors and small-town people with indefinable accents, I managed to reach the final stage of enlightenment. Yes, enlightenment. I have finally realized what my life's work should be, and have come to terms with the meaning of my existence.

But until Joss Whedon's Firefly returns to television and My Little Pony disappears from the internet altogether, said work cannot take place. Therefore, I have decided to resume my web writing for the Gargoyle to pass the time. And, since I am a generous higher power, I have decided to impart some of the ancient wisdom that I have gained from the wild after the jump. Be grateful, lesser beings. Be grateful.

You wanna look fly? Hot? Loquacious? Whatever other hip adjectives the kids are using these days? Don't sweat it. The Gargoyle's got your back. And front. And other parts. There is only one look this summer that is any good, seen here on Lenny Kravitz.

That's right. He has a corded telephone receiver plugged into his smart phone. Because when you look this cool, you can do whatever you want. Lenny also has horses that pull his Rolls-Royce. He sticks leeches on the end of his vaccination syringes. He even wraps a rosary around his condom before making sweet passionate love the way only Lenny Kravitz can. But anyway. Let's get back to what's important. Supply-side economics. No. Wait. Fashion. If you wanna pull this look off, follow these simple steps.

1. Buy the clothing and accessories 
2. Become Lenny Kravitz.

Simple. Should step 2 fail, resign yourself to accept your fate. You will never be Lenny Kravitz. Or look this good. My condolences. 

I live in Germany. Cue the Nazi jokes. I'm not joking though, that's actually what happens.. Faster than the Catholic Church blaming the gays for everything, (two penises + no vagina = the reason for abortion) they trot out the same old stereotype: Germans are Nazis. Which is stupid. The vast majority of the German population was born after or during the second World War. Now I'm no historian, but I don't think any of the concentration camps were being run by babies and sperm. So I think we can safely absolve them of any blame. Anyone who might have been even remotely involved with Nazi movement would be practically 90. As I am a.) 19 years old and b.) American, it makes little sense to call me a Nazi.

The world is a very different place now then it was back then, and the same stereotypes no longer apply. To flll the void, I've developed new ones based on my experiences and a very limited unverified data set:

Dear Diary,

I have feelings, too.

I think about my feelings. But there are also times when I don't want to. You see, I have feelings, too. Complicated feelings that come from inside. Of me.

I wake up and have a coffee, just like you. I have another cup of coffee and maybe two or three cigarettes. If my bong is nearby sometimes I will smoke it as well. I'm naked. It's maybe 9 in the morning. I spilled something on my clock once so I guess that it's 9 in the morning. I should go to work. Yikes! -coughs- I forgot to clean my bong for a month. Ouch!

I must admit, my latest entry makes me question the purpose of this blog. From the outset, we're competing against pretty difficult field. There are established giants of the online comedy world, like CollegeHumor and Cracked. There are countless aspiring comedians sitting in front of their webcams desperately trying to be seen and heard. Everyone and their grandmother has a tumblr and twitter account. I know our magazine has its merits. I think we're damn funny. I'm ready to compete with all of those people. But how could we ever hope to top this?

http://7chan.org/fl/src/hey.swf

A video like this, so perfect, so brilliant, is a rare find. I have doubts that anything I ever create will fill people with such mirth. So what can I bring to the table.  Why should I continue this blog? Oh, right. Resume building. See y'all next week!

No longer am I simply Tom Parson, today I am a hero, today I am a modern George Washington, today I pitched a tent in class for America. As the professor lectured, my mind began to drift to that gorgeous red, white, and I almost blew, but I turned my mind's eye to paintings of Martha Washington and maintained full mast. The fine citizen sitting next to me was the first to notice my pride and was duly impressed. With a wink and a smile she passed me a note with her number and voting history. Soon the entire class began to catch on and, although I cannot explain it, began to sing "The Star-Spangled Banner". Certainly, Calc II will never be the same.

Let's face it. At one point or another, you're going to be trapped by a talkative stranger or chatty relative. This is a terrible and dreadful situation. But before you activate that cyanide tooth the Bulgarian secret service gave you before your final mission, here are a few other tactics you might try.   

Option 1: The "Hendricks" Maneuver.

This is one of the most simple tactics. Just imagine the lovely, talented (and suffice it to say, voluptuous) actress as your conversation partner. Everything is better when Christina Hendricks is involved. Visualize her gently brushing away a few strands of her crimson hair as she elaborates on her mother's foot bunions. Her elegant fingers resting on up her curvy hips as she mentions her cat's recent bowel issues. Her, shall we say, assets displayed prominently as she informs you of Mary J. Blige's deep involvement with the Hussein regime.

By and large, I like to maintain certain illusions about the world I live in. My parents are always right, Nicholas Cage will eventually stop getting work as an actor, and people are nice. But like a wine glass at a Jewish wedding full of opera singers, bulls, and Pete Townsend, my illusions have been shattered. My father was wrong about how to catch a football, which I painfully discovered when I learned that "face-first" is not the standard method of gridiron practice. Nicholas Cage remains a block-buster movie star, and will be starring in the titular role in "Whore 3: The Rewhoring". And most importantly, people are increasingly becoming assholes.

Take the other day. I was walking down Hill Street during one of my typical squirrel hunts. As I was nearing the squirrel (or as I like to call it: Future Hamburger  #3) when a car drove passed me and screamed "Fag!" I was confused. Why was a British gang asking me for a cigarette? Much less in their native slang? Fortunately, my time in Europe had allowed me to become familiar with their slang. Otherwise, I might have been offended and confus-