Hey! It's time to run a whole year of my every-other-weekly "column" through the "AutoSummarize" tool on Microsoft Word. This year it's 20,684 words, boiled down to 4 percent of original size. Fun!
I'm already sick of this shit, man. I haven't done anything inadvertent, man. The First Underpants, if you will. Anyway, c'mon, it's not gonna be one of these other Democrats, right? Man, I totally fumbled on Super Bowl XLI, jeez. Yeah, I'm a Genius, man. Maybe if the icecaps melt some more people will pray to Gore to save them, huh? This guy rolled over, man. I'd grow a beard if I was one of the Presidents of the United States. Maybe I'll just toss a fucking coin. Man, too bad there isn't a pill for the guy running that country, eh? Right? A fucking "scrimmage" game? That's a practice game, right? I don't get it, man, seriously. Hah? Right? Are you fucking kidding me? We gotta stack some fucking paper right now! Actually, fuck it-go ahead and send all you want, man. I'm a fucking genius. I'll never go on vacation from the Getting Paid, man. Touching my stuff? Don't touch my stuff, OK? That's what This Country is all about, man: Don't Touch My Stuff. So seriously, Don't Touch My Stuff, OK? It's just Lazy, man. It's just Slothful, man. Yeah! Electric Justice, man. Man, I'm nervous, seriously, on account of this thing with all the pet foods. The bad pet foods? Wheat, right? Just pets, man. Man, I hate pennies, and you should, too. Anyway, pennies, right? Right? I won't even do that if you give me a hard time, so check yourself. Please. Just focus on your job, man. What the fuck is it with people who stop fucking walking as soon as they get on the escalator? I mean, if you got a heart condition or something, OK, you can relax, but if you are an able-bodied human, don't stop moving when you get on the goddamn fucking escalator, OK? Please. Quit being surprised you gotta take off your fucking shoes, OK? I always come correct at the Security, man. If you want to walk, you should take the regular nonmoving stairs. I'm at the airport and I'm in a Big Fucking Hurry. So please to Get the Fuck Outta My Way, that's a pretty Reasonable Fucking Request, hater. What the fuck is it with people who stop fucking walking as soon as they get on the escalator? I mean, if you got a heart condition or something, OK, you can relax, but if you are an able-bodied human, don't stop moving when you get on the goddamn fucking escalator, OK? How fucking Genius is that? God fucking dammit. Big fucking KA-SCHPLATT! Fucking disgusting, man, seriously. How fucking hard can it be? People are gonna walk on that shit, man. It's been, like, three fucking weeks since my shit has been in the paper on account of my column being every other week, combinated with another one of these fucking "special issue" issues where my fucking column doesn't even fucking run. Oh, yeah, right, every paper my column doesn't run is a special issue, har de-har-har, ha. Corn! Corn! Basically, pre-Colombian and Mesoamerican-wise, if you represent Corn, I salute you. It's the goddamn Experimental Corn, seriously. Corn is Big Business, man. Never mind. Enjoy your ethanol and high fuckshit corn syrups. Yeah, man, Paid Vacation Time is here again, but it's like I gotta do all this shit that I would normally do if I were not Vacant before I evacuate my desk, you know? Paid Vacation! Right, 'cuz regular effing bananas aren't sweet enough. Jesus Christ, it's hard to type "banana," seriously. Bananas. Pretty simple, right? BEERVEZA, man, that pisses me off big time. I like beer. I like beer. And I'm not alone, man, check this out, real Knowledge from the Ancients, man, the Sumerians, for fuck's sake. Proverbs: collection 26: c.6.1.26 He is fearful, like a man unacquainted with beer. I'll settle for a shandy if the honour-seat's booked, OK? Beer-beer? Beer mixed with Mexican? Not that you asked, but no, I don't particularly enjoy figuring out if somebody is on the drugs or if they are simply weird. It's like, seriously, Ancient Egyptians would go to the fucking mall if there was one, and they would totally go to that Ye Olde English Medieval Times thing, too, you know? It's the mall, man, this is America. People are nuts! And I only go to the mall if I have to. Nice work. Totally. There's no reason to talk. Jesus Christ, now I have to worry about my fucking carbon footprint, for fuck's sake. I mean, I never asked for these goddamn blue bags at the supermarket, man. Man, that shit pisses me off. I just want The Holiday, pure Holiday, man. Let's have some more fucking days off, man, like those Europeans, yes? You can't make this shit up, man. I gotta get paid, man, I mean, I like getting paid so much I keep bolding it.
Har! Not really much different from when I write it on purpose, eh?
812 Park Ave.
Baltimore, MD 21201