Photo by jmilles

 
Twitter is a service where self-absorbed people (like me) send each other updates as to what we’re doing. For example:

BradBrownDotCom: “My pants are on - it’s time to get to work.”
Aquaman826: “Don’t forget your “Home of the Whopper” belt buckle.”

In the old days before the Intrawebs™ , the equivalent of Twitter was the party line, where you’d dial a number to talk to other losers. Twitter makes such despair more accessible to the masses, and with celebrity spokesman like Ashton Kutcher, it’s bound to become much more popular before it closes due to lack of revenue. Before Twitter disappears, I thought I’d jump on the bandwagon and review my most popular messages (called Tweets). Taken out of context, they’re quite funny, and I feel that I should win an award for my efforts.

If the swine flu gets me, I’ll leave my shark-mounted lasers to the Twitter community.
 
@RoseanneD - a man in a jean vest is 4 men short of the Village People.
 
I’m every woman (with a pot belly & a quick temper).
 
Somali pirates can’t swim.
 
Mounting the lasers on the sharks in an effort to surprise the Baptists while they’re at church.
 
Why is Gail King orange?
 
There’s a very fine line between shish kabobs and fajitas. I learned that yesterday when the kabobs fell apart.
 
If you decide to stalk me, send me a Hickory Farms gift pack with plenty of cheese. Thanks.
 
@MikeDoe - So what you’re saying is that the essential dating toolkit should contain is: Botox, Vodka, and Rohipnol. I’d buy that for a $ .
 
Medieval Times parking lot - 15 minutes - Ford Fiesta jousting. Many will enter, only one will survive.
 
BradBrownDotCom: Census? Will you be carrying a taser for self-defense?
Jebbica: - I’ll just beat potential rapists with my microcomputer.
 
It’s a trip how a programmer could switch so quick from wearin’ Dockers to smokin’ on chronic at picnics.
 
“Failure Coach” - that has a nice ring to it. I’ll see you at the Ramada Inn!
 
Sun visors and sexual assaults decrease with decreasing fraternity enrollment. I kid you not.
 
Why can’t Madonna adopt us all?
 
Who smokes the crack, who steals your snacks? Baby, it’s the guitar man!
 
Does Smokey Robinson have a glass eye? Or is he stoned?
 
Ain’t no party like a Twitter party cause a Twitter party don’t stop. If you see a young metrosexual Twittering, you gots to give him props
 
If I were an astronaut, I could be drinking Tang right now.
 
@pinkshepherd - your productivity astounds me. Are you high on meth?

Photo by Mat Honan

Hungry from a hard day at the chikin samich factory, BradBrownDotCom longingly eyes his tomcat’s drumsticks.
 
Sitting on the couch, just a thinkin’ bout my fitness.
 
@hrtsnlaserbeams - Wait till you get to the monkeys. Odds are one will be masturbating in public. Mark my word.
 
Recession-weary BradBrown.com outraged by smaller scoops at Baxin Robbins.
 
I thought that they were German, but to my surprise, we climbed aboard their taco-shaped UFO, and headed for the skies.
 
It makes my taco pop.
 
Chris Brown and Rihanna record a duet. I’m guessing “Killing Me Softly.” Thanks, I’ll be here all week.
 
The primary benefit of working at home is that if anyone goes nuts and starts shooting, it would just be me. Easy to defend against.
 
I’m going to wrap myself in bacon and assume a fetal position in front of the orphanage.
 
@marvlove - My advice is to panic and trample your co-workers - but use your own judgment.
 
Snapping into a Slim Jim.
 
If the government collapses and we do end up in the Thunderdome, you will know me by the trail of the dead. And my bowl haircut.
 
Christ! Without Blockbuster, there will be no place to get Richard Grieco or Shannon Tweed movies.
 
Remember: Together, we can’t make a difference. Let’s just move to the gulf coast and become shrimp fishermen.
 
The war on prosperity is bringing me down. Let’s quit and move to Costa Rica before China forecloses on us.
 
I think I’m unattractive enough to appear in a Rooms-To-Go commercial.
 
Ask your doctor if Brad Brown is right for you.
 
@ELROSS - You sure have a pretty mouth.
 
Reminiscing about seeing Randy “The Macho Man” Savage eat a bloomin’ onion at Outback in 96. Those are the memories I cherish the most.

 
As you can see, Twitter provides some of the most stimulating one-sided conversation you will find on the Intrawebs™. I highly encourage you to join today and follow your favorite celebrity wannabees, including me!

Post from: Brad Brown

The Very Best of Twitter - Egocentric Edition

Photo by Xirzon

A Delicious Pound of Cure

• The primary sources of the contagion are swarthy Wal-Mart shoppers. If you must shop at Wal-Mart, coat yourself from head to toe with Purell before entering, and avoid the plus-size clothing area.
   
• Contrary to popular belief, consumption of bacon prevents swine flu due to the pork antibodies that are prevalent in bacon. Two strips of bacon consumed daily can reduce your chances of getting the swine flu by 70%. This tip brought to you by the National Pork Producers Council.
   
• Drink heavily. That way, if the ravenous pigs chase you down and eat you, it’ll be a relatively painless experience.

How to Cause Panic in Others

• Pour Bacon-Bits on your shoulders and then walk into a public location, like a subway station or airport bathroom. When someone asks you what it is, feign surprise and start yelling “Oh Jesus, it’s swine flu dandruff!” Pause, eat one, and then follow up with a loud “…but it sure is tasty!”
   
• Post a “Closed because of swine flu” sign on the window of your favorite grocery store.
   
• Adopt a pot-bellied pig and take him to Pilates class with you.
   
• Place a hot dog in the collection plate during a church service.
   
• Discretely conceal a sausage before your next prostate exam.

How Bad Could It Get?

• Your face could fall off just as you are about to receive the Nobel Prize, causing shouts of “Hey, it’s Mickey Rourke!” from the audience.
   
• While biting your nails, your hands could start to taste delicious, and you might eat your fingers to the bone before your co-workers at Quiznos can stop you.
   
• Oprah could turn into a zombie and start eating her guest stars. I can just picture her eating Mary Kate Olsen (the skinny Olsen twin), then gazing into the camera and saying “Tastes like chicken! Now welcome my next guest…”
   
• Your zombie cats might eat you if you fall asleep while watching Ghost Whisperer.
   
• Obama could take over the ailing pork industry because it’s too big to fail. Pork missiles will then become the primary weapon against Islamic terrorists.
   
• Angelina Jolie might start eating her children after adopting them. Secretly, Brad Pitt would be relieved.

Post from: Brad Brown

How to Prevent the Swine Flu

Photo by Jon Day

 
I got married on April 3rd. This is my story.
 

Place Cards

My fiancée sent me to the FedEx Kinko’s (Store #1567) at noon to pick up the place cards, seven hours before the wedding. I was greeted at the print center by a sheepish Indian named Alex. “I’m here to pick up the place cards for the Long/Brown wedding,” I said. After searching under every counter, a look of awareness dawned on his face, and he walked slowly back over. “I’m sorry. We used the wrong paper (because you were high?), and I’ll have to reprint them. It’ll be 2:30 before they’ll be ready. But we can deliver them to you when we’re finished. I know it’s your wedding day and the last thing you need is a screw-up with the place cards.” “Excellent, my man,” I replied. “Send them to this address in the Rancho Relaxo subdivision.” I scribbled my address on a card and left the store.
 
2:30 came and went, but alas, the place cards were never delivered. At 2:45, I called Kinko’s and axed to speak to Alex. “Which one do you want?” the woman axed, “We have two employees by that name.” “Fantastic. I’d like to speak to the stoner in the print shop who looks like the Indian guy from the Harold and Kumar movie.” “One moment,” she replied. Seconds later, Alex answered. “Alex - it’s Brad Brown - calling about the place cards.” “Oh yeah, let me call the delivery guy….[on hold]…They’ll be there at 3:30.” “Sweet f**k Alex, I won’t be here at 3:30. Deliver them to the DoubleTree Hotel, where my fiancée is at.”
 
Never use vulgar language with a passive-aggressive print-shop employee making minimum wage - it’ll only make things worse. In our case, Alex had them delivered to the actual wedding venue at 5:30 without informing anyone, while my fiancée waited miles away at the hotel for the delivery.
 
Early the next morning, under the cover of darkness, I cut the brake lines to his Geo Metro, and thus the cycle of aggression was complete.

And Your People Shall Be My People

After the sixth time that the Reverend Cleotus Jefferson referred to my fiancée as Misty, she leaned forward, gently tapped him on the lapel, and said “My name is Christy.”
 
“Sorry,” he apologized, and then he continued on with the ceremony, referring to her as Christy once, before reverting to Misty for the rest of the ceremony.
 

A Best Man’s Toast to Brad

“I have known Brad for a little over a decade now. He is the only person I know who has mastered the art of the CraigsList posting, as his late night antics have become legendary in certain circles.”

 
You could have heard a pin drop.
 

It’s a Small World

At the brunch the day after the wedding, I was sitting with my nephew, chatting about his upcoming career decisions.

“I’ve got a phone interview with Disney today,” said Billy Brown-Montague (of the Texas Montagues).
 
“Aren’t you worried about the little kids running up full force and ramming their heads into the crotch of your Mickey Mouse costume?” I asked.
 
“No. I’ll take testicular trauma over unemployment any day,” he replied.

Post from: Brad Brown

How Weddings Work, Part 1

Post from: Brad Brown

Brad in Real Life

Post from: Brad Brown

In Lieu of Salmonella-Enhanced Peanut Butter

Photo by echoforsberg

 
“Today is the greatest day I’ve ever known. Can’t live for tomorrow.” - Smashing Pumpkins.
 
Last December, when I lost my job at the peanut butter factory, I began to worry. The job market for peanut butter taste-testers has never been good, even in a boom economy. After a couple of weeks of looking for another job, I gave up, abandoned my family and McMansion, and moved to a seedy hotel. It didn’t occur to me that I’d be trading the stress of unemployment for the pleasure of lounging my days away with hookers and drug dealers (in a purely platonic, neighborly sense). I had to find something to do with my free time; otherwise, I’d go nuts and start shooting.
 
The grand idea occurred to me when I was buying groceries at my local Target Superstore. While walking through the aisles, I thought to myself, “Wow, this place sure is bright and cheery. They have everything you could want - food, clothing, and furniture. Sweet Jesus! I should move in here!” Obviously, living at a Target 24/7 would draw suspicion, but I am happy to report that I’ve been able to spend most of my waking hours living at Target over the past month, and that in turn has greatly improved my outlook on life. “How do I do it,” you ask? Good question…
 

Looking the Part

If you’re wearing Dockers pants and a red polo shirt right now, skip to the next paragraph. If not, here’s how to procure steal them. Walk into your nearest Target, and grab a pair of Dockers, a red polo, and scissors. Walk down the center aisle to the back of the store. Assuming your store layout is similar to the 123,941 other Target stores, there should be a hallway with swinging double doors. Walk through the doors with authority - this is an employees-only area and if you show reticence, you’ll be spotted in a minute. Locate the bathroom and change into the uniform. Be sure to remove the rectangular security tag, otherwise the alarm will sound when you leave at the end of the day. You’re halfway to faux employee!
 
A normal Target shirt has a Target logo on the imprinted left breast. Your shirt does not. The best way to overcome this flaw is to place a badge or button of some sort over your left breast, so that it appears as if you’re obscuring a logo. I wear an “I love Miley Cyrus” button, which endears me to the younger employees. Alternatively, you might be able to find a red apron in the employee locker room; this would cover your shirt as well. Once you’re fully attired, get the hell out of the bathroom and start enjoying your new retail life.
 

Snacking on the Down Low

The great thing about living in a Target superstore is the amount of food available. I’ve discovered a great way to snack throughout the day without getting caught. Here’s how:

1. Grab a Sharpie and a 3×5 card from the office supplies department.
2. Walk into the furniture department and grab a stool. Carry the stool to the kitchen accessories section.
3. Grab a large Tupperware bowl. Now make your way to the snack foods section.
4. Put the bowl on the stool. Open a bag of your favorite brand of potato chip and pour them in the bowl.
5. Write the words “Free Sample” on the 3×5 card and place it beside the bowl.
6. Walk around the store aimlessly, returning every ten minutes for a handful of chips.
7. When the bowl is empty, return the bowl and stool to their respective departments.

By alternating where you setup the stool, you can eat whatever you want without actually buying anything.

Power Napping Locations

Napping without getting caught is the hardest part of living at Target. If your Target has a furniture display with beds, then the best place to sleep is on the floor underneath the mattress. You can spend all day underneath there without being noticed. If your Target has a garden section, then another alternative is to sleep on the high shelves; usually, there isn’t much traffic in the garden section, so you can usually climb the shelves without being noticed. If someone asks what you’re doing, just say that you’re grabbing a garden hose for a customer at register 5.
 

Bonding with the Customers

Although Target meets the basic needs of life, it’ll get pretty boring if all you do is nap or eat. I spend the majority of my days walking throughout the store and helping confused customers. Here’s a sampling of my encounters from this past week:
 
Customer: “I need to get an HDMI cable for my TV. Will this one work?”
Brad: “It’ll work, but the price is outrageous. You can get it cheaper at Wal-Mart.”
 
Customer: “Is this generic macaroni and cheese any good?”
Brad: “Lady, it tastes like ass. Don’t scrimp on mac and cheese.”
 
Customer (discretely): “Where are your condoms located?”
Brad: “I’ll be honest with you. You look like Mickey Rourke, only more unattractive. Do you really think you’re going to get laid? Instead, how about some Nyquil to take the edge off?”
 

Q&A

1. What if a manager challenges me and asks me who I am?
    
   Point to something behind him and loudly yell, “Hey, it’s Katie Couric!” Run in the opposite direction.
    
2. Wouldn’t it just be easier to get a job at Target?
    
   Working introduces accountability into the equation. It’s easier to be reckless if you’re not getting paid.
    
3. What are you going to do once Target discovers your plan?
    
   By that time, Obama will have created millions of bridge-building jobs. I will join my Mexican friends and spend my days in the hot sun driving a bulldozer, rebuilding America one bridge at a time (at least until the funding runs out).

Post from: Brad Brown

Save Money. Live Better at Target. Literally.

Photo by Pasotraspaso

A pretty story I will tell,
Of Brad, a little Mouse,
Who took delight, when none were near,
To skip about the house.
 
His little nose could sniff and smell
Where all good things were kept,
And in the pantry well he knew
That mistress Pussy (!) slept.
 
But, notwithstanding, in he crept,
And on the shelf he found
A Christmas cake, the top of which
Was by a castle crowned.
 
The subject of the present cake
Was Windsor’s mighty walls;
With turrets, windows, standard too,
And entrance to the halls.
 
Why, here within such walls as these,
Thought Bradley, I could dwell;
And should the Cat lay siege to them,
Defend myself right well.
 
So, with his little teeth, which served
For pickaxe and for spade,
He gnawed right through the gothic door,
And thus an entrance made.
 
Then climbed the turret, which he chose
His residence to make;
And thought to leave it now and then,
And feast upon the cake.
 
All this occurred on Christmas eve,
And next came Christmas day;
And then some little rednecks arrived,
To eat, and drink, and play.

Right merry are the little folks,
And what a noise they make,
When Windsor castle they behold,
Displayed upon the cake.
 
The turrets and the walls they view,
The cannon, too, admire;
The soldiers ready to present,
And then - pop! - pop! - to fire.
 
On this, when they had long enough
All exercised their wit,
They scrutinized the cake, and wished
To taste a bit of it.
 
Each guest prepared, the knife was raised
Some slices to begin,
When, lo! with wonder, all exclaimed,
“What the hell is that?”
 
Poor Bradley, when he saw the knife,
At once expressed his fear,
By squeaking out with all his might,
Which every one could hear.
 
Then John Boy, as he the turret viewed,
With consternation cried,
“There’s sumthin’, I am sure, alive,
And movin’, thar, inside.”
 
All now were hushed, and knew not what
All this could be about;
While Brad, in fright, forgot his tail,
Which at the top popped out.
 
“Why, here’s some trick,” the lady cried,
“I’ll knock the turret down.”
Bradley, in terror, gave a leap,
And ran along her polyester gown.
 
“Oh!” screamed the lady, “what is this?”
On each side was dismay,
Which Bradley took advantage of,
By scampering away.
 
Their fright all over, loud laughs ensued,
From all within the house,
To think that so much fear should be
Caused by a maverick mouse.
 
The children hunted for Brad mouse,
But he was not a dolt
To wait ’till he was caught, but made
Right through a hole - a bolt.
 
The party then began their dance,
And singing next ensued;
And then came supper, with its cakes,
And very best home-brewed.
 

Epilogue

 
Due to the high levels of mercury in the groundwater, Brad Mouse developed two heads. He was placed in a jar and sent to the University of Arkansas for dissection further examination. The family promoted their discovery on the evening news. Eventually, word of their story reached Ty Pennington, who brought the entire “Extreme Makeover: Redneck Edition” team to Arkansas. Their Jim Walter home was demolished and replaced with a 10,000 square foot house, complete with Jacuzzi tub. The family succumbed to hydrargaria, which led to their TLC series, “Little People, Big World“.]
 
[Poem from “The Mouse and the Christmas Cake” by Anonymous, from Project Gutenberg.]

Post from: Brad Brown

The Mouse and the Wal-Mart Christmas Cake

 
My nephew Raffaello recently purchased a rare, unopened copy of the Nintendo video game “Bubble Bath Babes.” He paid a flea market vendor one dollar for the game, and then Raffaello turned around and sold it on eBay for $18,321. Inspired by his success, I’ve formulated a similar plan to buy cheap domain names and then resell them on GoDaddy. It goes something like this…
 

The Law of Repulsion

I remember watching a scene from the movie “The Secret,” where a kid wishes for a bike, and within minutes, an aging child-molester delivers a red Schwinn to him at the back door (My friend(s) tell me that this was the kid’s grandfather and not a molester, but it’s really not stated in the movie). This principle is called “The Law of Attraction.” First, you must ask the universe (or the major deity of your choice) for something - it could be a ham samich or a Brazilian hooker - whatever you want, ask for it (silently, otherwise they’ll think you’re nuts). Then you must believe that the item will be delivered to you in a timely manner.
 
In this particular instance, I’m asking for $31,482 to pay off a gambling debt before the Cosa Nostra puts a bullet in my head. In theory, I could just start believing (”I’m sure it will happen, I’m sure it will happen…”), and within a few days, a manila envelope containing the money would appear on my door step (”Thank you, Jesus,” I would exclaim). However, I find that dealing with the universe is a crap shoot, so I’ve added some manual steps to this specious method for making money. God could say “no” to my needs, yet I’d still be in the game.
 

Waiting for a Scandal to Arrive

Right now, someone is somewhere and they’re doing something illegal. Most likely it’s a politician or Miley Cyrus. When news of these scandals hits the television networks, people immediately turn to Google to search for additional details or nude photos (or both). It’s human nature to be curious, and now we can be curious without leaving our computer. For the past several days, I’ve been Googling “Rod Blogo” (I couldn’t spell Blagojevich), because I’m enthralled with his impending doom (it takes my mind off my own). It occurred to me that others might be Googling him as well, and then I noticed that some of the domain names relating to him were still available for purchase. This brings us to the most important step of my method (humans love steps - it gives them an easy way to track progress.):
 

Buy as many domain names relating to the scandal as early as possible.

 
That is the key step - some have paid thousands to hear me say that single sentence during my Ramada Inn seminars, but I’m giving it to you here, because I’m a generous bastard.
 
In my case, I purchased the following domains, and then I put them up for auction at GoDaddy:

• BribeBlagojevich.com
• BlagosBribes.com
• BribeBlago.com
• RodBlogojevich.com
• RodBlago.com
• RodBlogo.com

Each of these auctions ends next weekend, and it’ll be interesting to see what happens between now and then. There are several possible scenarios I’ve thought of.

Scenario One: Nirvana

On Monday, December 15th, Brad’s domain auction article gets picked up by the national right-wing press. Sean Hannity mentions BradBrown.com on the air, resulting in two million hits in one hour and a meltdown of the server. BradBrown.com’s ad revenue spikes, and now Brad can afford chicken strips in addition to his Papa John’s pizza.
 
On Tuesday, Brad receives death threats from several prominent Illinois Democrats, including “Senate Candidate #14.” Brad goes into hiding at a cheap hotel next to Club Le Vela in Panama City Beach, Florida.
 
By Wednesday, the bidding on each domain name has surpassed $100,000. Brad contemplates buying a Kia dealership.
 
On Saturday afternoon, thirty minutes before the first auction ends, Soledad O’Brien interviews Brad on CNN, and she asks him if he feels bad about profiting from the misery of failed politicians, ex-pesh-ially during times when others are out of work. Brad replies, “No, not really. What’s up with that Adrianna Costa?”
 
On Sunday, after the auctions are over, Brad pays off the Mafia, and then breaks ground on his Kia dealership.
 

Scenario Two: Stairway to Cleveland

On Monday, December 15th, Brad’s domain auction article gets eighteen hits from the popular news aggregators Digg and Reddit. Brad thinks his luck is finally changing for the better.
 
On Tuesday, BradBrown.com’s ad revenue drops off precipitously, making Brad doubt himself.
 
On Wednesday, Brad calls the CNN operator, mentions that he’s a new-media maverick, and then demands to speak with Wolf Blitzer in the Situation Room. The operator hangs up, but not before mentioning that the Situation Room is a television show, and not an actual room.
 
On Thursday, Brad sells blood plasma to keep the web servers running.
 
On Friday, Brad receives a cease-and-desist letter from Rod Blagojevich’s lawyer. Brad promptly frames it and begins calling his friends over to take a look.
 
On Saturday, the first auction ends, and the ending bid is $17.99, ten dollars more than what Brad purchased the domain for. This means Brad can only afford a medium one-topping pizza from Little Caesar’s.
 
On Sunday, after all the auctions have ended, Brad nets $47.34. Discouraged, Brad buys a Greyhound bus ticket and heads to Hollywood for a career in food service. $47.34 only gets Brad as far as Idaho, where he resorts to “hustling” to get the money needed to continue to Hollywood.
 

Method Summary

1. Use the Law of Attraction to give your endeavor the extra edge. It may be worthless, but in the game of life, you’re bound to hit something by throwing more darts.
2. When a scandal occurs, immediately buy domain names relating to the scandal.
3. List those domain names on your favorite auction site. I chose GoDaddy.com, because that’s the name BradBrown.com knows and trusts.
4. Wait for it….Wait for it…
5. Profit!

It really is that easy!
 

Frequently Axed Questions

1. Do you realize that you spelled RodBlogojevich.com incorrectly?
    
   Yes. Luckily, no one can spell these days, so whoever buys the domain will still get millions of hits per day.
    
2. Does this method work all the time?
    
   The majority of the time it does. Sometimes, you lose. In 1998, I purchased the domain name Cajones.com for $100, thinking it meant ‘testicles” in Spanish. In reality, it means “lawn furniture.” The word I was looking for was “cojones,” not “cajones.” Eventually, I was forced to sell Cajones.com for $18.65.

Post from: Brad Brown

How to Make $31,482 in One Week Using My Secret Method

 
I was lounging on the beach at Necker Island, descending into an alcoholic stupor. At my emotional nadir, I heard the sounds of “Get Down on It” by Kool and the Gang emanating from my pants. “Oh yeah…my cell phone,” I remembered. I reached vigorously into my pants and whipped out my iFauxne. It was Lou Steinman, my agent. “Brad, baby! Have I got an interview for you. Santa’s usual news coverage is being displaced by all the bailout news, and his business is down seventy percent. He needs publicity and is going on the interview circuit. His Fox News interview fell through, and now he’s got a slot open to talk to you. You want the interview?” “Sure - it’s either that or suicide. Sign me up,” I replied. I hung up and headed back to my room to prepare for the interview the next morning.
 
Eight a.m. comes early in the islands, but I was a trooper and made my way down to the palm tree, where I waited for Santa’s call. I was on my fourth Bloody Mary when the phone rang.
 
Brad: Nick, long time no talk. What’s it been, thirty years?
 
Santa: Yeah, time flies when you’re having doubt.
 
Brad: Nick, what do you think is the most common misconception about your job?
 
Santa: Most people think that with the outsourcing of toy manufacturing to China that we no longer make toys at the North Pole. However, the popularity of hand-made toys has grown over the years, so our Mexican elves are busier than ever.
 
Brad: How has the problem of lead contamination affected the toys you do outsource?
 
Santa: Well, I no longer lick each toy before wrapping it. Old habits die hard.
 
Brad: Angelina Jolie or Delta Burke?
 
Santa: Delta Burke. I like my women like my gravy - lumpy.
 
Brad: Speaking of lumpy, how’s Mrs. Claus?
 
Santa: She’s great. She just started filming “The Real Housewives of the Arctic,” so that’ll keep her busy till summer. Her perfume line, Eau de Claus, is taking off. You can find it in Wal-Mart and other semi-fine department stores.
 
Brad: What’s the strangest thing anyone has ever left for you, in lieu of milk and cookies?
 
Santa: Day-old popcorn chicken from Arby’s. After climbing down a dirty chimney, the last thing I want to eat is cold, soggy chicken. So, I stole a bottle of Chateau Lafite Rothschild from their wine cellar, and then I stomped the chicken into the carpet. Payback is a bitch.
 

 
Brad: Who’s the biggest celebrity douche that you’ve encountered? You can tell me - it’ll be off the record.
 
Santa: Clay Aiken. Talk about demanding. He’s returned every gift I’ve ever given him.
 
Brad: What do you get when you kick Gumby in the nuts?
 
Santa: What?
 
Brad: Clay Aiken!
 
Santa: Where do you get this {expletive}?
 
Brad: If you were an animal, which animal would you be?
 
Santa: Probably a bird. I think it would be fun to poop on people and fly off.
 
Brad: Sounds like a German thing. So, is Rudolph really as hard to work with as I’ve read?
 
Santa: He’s like any reindeer under pressure. He has moments where he lashes out, but overall, he’s a good guy. Now that we’ve retrofitted Blitzen’s nose with a red LED, it takes a lot of the pressure off of Rudolph.
 
Brad: Is Cupid gay?
 
Santa: Let’s just say that in every herd of reindeer, a little Anderson Cooper must fall.
 
Brad: What are you currently up to? This is the only chance to promote your {expletive}.
 
Santa: I’ve got a workout DVD coming out in the spring, and my fashion line for big and tall men will be in the 2009 JC Penney catalog. We’re also working on a director’s cut of Rudolph The Red-Nosed Reindeer. There’s some great footage of Yukon Cornelius and me partying at The Whiskey in LA. Good times…
 
Brad: Thanks for taking the time, Nick. It’s been a great interview.
 
Santa: Peace out. Word to your mother.
 
[Brad’s note: You can hear the complete interview on NPR on Christmas Eve. Check your local listing for times.]

Post from: Brad Brown

Interview with the Santa Claus

Photo by dawnhops

Lincoln Logs

Young Brad pours the bucket of miniature, faux logs on the shag carpet, and then thinks, “Now what the {expletive} do I do with them?”

Brad: Mom, now what the {expletive} do I do?
Mom: Watch your language, young man. One more word from you and I’ll wash your mouth out with soap.
Brad: {expletive}

Mom grabbed me by the collar and walked me into the bathroom, where she promptly washed my mouth out with Lava Soap (“with pumice“). That day, I learned that soap tastes terrible, and that Lincoln Logs are useful only for making cabins or fences.
 

Stretch Armstrong

 
“…and I pulled him so hard that juice squirted out,” I said, recounting to a co-worker the death of my Stretch Armstrong doll. That didn’t sound too macho, so I quickly diverted the conversation to wrestling.
 

Airplane on a String

 
This toy was so unpopular, that I couldn’t even find a photo of one to show you (so I decided to show scantily-clad women instead). In the seventies, remote-controlled airplanes were expensive, but there were alternatives. Some enterprising toy manufacturer thought it would be a good idea to sell an airplane that you controlled via a string attached to one wing of the plane. It worked like this: one kid would start the tiny engine, and begin running in circles with the plane, while the other kid rotated in the center of the circle, holding a handle attached to the other end of the string. Once the plane was airborne, the running kid would let go and the kid at the center would continue rotating to fly the plane. That was the crux of the problem - the only way to fly the plane was to rotate in a circle. Two minutes after flying the plane, you became dizzy and fell to the ground, and the plane would fly off and hit a Deutscher Schäferhund or Dodge Polara.
 

Sea Monkeys

The advertisement showed a naked family bonding around a German castle. It didn’t sound as perverted then as it does now, so I sent in my ten dollars and anticipated the day that I would have my own kingdom of small creatures that worshiped me like a major deity. This must have been how Jim Jones felt. Six to eight weeks later, the package arrived. I was perplexed that there were no creatures inside, only “magic crystals o’ life.” I followed the instructions, and within days, I was staring at a Mason jar of tiny, swimming bugs. “Where’s my tiny family?” I wondered. I then found the “brine shrimp” disclaimer on the box, and then realized that I had been sucker-punched in my tiny belly by the advertising industry.
 

Rock Tumblers

All the lead I ate as a kid must have accumulated by the time I hit twelve, because I became fascinated with shiny objects that year (for no good reason). Every time I’d pass by a river bed (and that was often), I’d look for smooth, shiny rocks. I took my obsession to the next level that Christmas by asking for a rock tumbler. When Santa delivered it, I madly unwrapped the box, fully expecting to be rolling in shiny rocks by day’s end. But alas, it was not meant to be. The tumbling process took several weeks. DOH!
 
I setup my tumbler in the barn that afternoon and went back to inspect it the next day. It was turned off. I asked the usual suspects, and Mom confessed to turning it off to save energy. Mom grew up during the Great Depression, and anytime electricity was being used frivolously, she’d turn off the offending switch. I plugged my tumbler back in and went back to my youthful indiscretions. The next day, it was unplugged again. This went on for several weeks. Twenty-six years later, my rock tumbler still sits on the shelf of the barn, with the barrel full of semi-rough rocks waiting for their final polish. I grew tired of Mom’s continual conservation, so I eventually stopped plugging it back in. Sometimes, the dragon wins.
 

Operation

There’s nothing more unnerving for a small child than having to pull entrails and bones from an unanesthetized cartoon character (”A Dick Cheney Christmas” would be the title of the Xmas special). It’s a wonder I grew up to be so mellow.
 

¿Conclusión?

If you’ve already given one of these toys to someone you love, it’s never too late to say “I’m sorry.” If you’ve ever experienced the trauma of a sub-par toy, it’s ok to vent here; you’re among similarly scarred friends.

Post from: Brad Brown

The Worst Christmas Toys Ever

Photo by The Jamoker

Haggar Stealth Stretch Pants

In the old days, it was easy to spot a person wearing stretch pants. The ruffled, elastic material gripped the waist of the chubby individual much like the red band surrounding a slice of bologna. I wore stretch pants back then, and it didn’t bother me, mainly because I was a kid - I wasn’t image conscious at that age. As I grew older, I became chubbier and resorted to stretch pants as an alternative to weight loss. They were a dream, except for the stigma. I never knew why stretch pants were shunned by society, but I longed for the day when stretch pant wearers had equal rights.
 
In 1998, Haggar Pant Laboratories introduced the stealth stretch pant. Instead of the ruffled elastic along the entire perimeter of the pant, they put a tiny amount of elastic on each hip, hidden behind a waistband that separated slightly as you moved. Gone were the days of advertising your portliness every time you left the underground bunker. Now, you could blend in with athletic businessmen in their tailored Armani pants, and no one would be the wiser. It seemed like a miracle.
 

Crotch on Aisle Three

I stopped by the Kroger grocery store (#497) on my way home from UPS. I was dressed in business attire. At that time, UPS required all corporate employees to wear a suit and tie. I was able to skirt this requirement by wearing a sport coat with suit-like buttons. From one hundred feet or more, you’d swear it was an expensive a cheap suit. I also ditched suit pants for Haggar stretch pants (I believe they call them “comfort fit” so as to not embarrass the wearer). It was as close to corporate attire as one could get for under a hundred dollars.
 
On aisle three, I stooped down to pick up some oatmeal (the brand with Barbara Bush on the box). As I sat on my haunches, I felt a slight tugging, then a strange sense of coolness, as if my privates had their own air-conditioner. Unsettled by the chill, I quickly stood up, put my hands on my ass, and felt the strange sensation of red silk boxers. I looked down to see a rip in my precious pants - a rip that went from my crotch, down the seam of the left leg, to my kneecap. “Oh sweet Jebus,” I thought to myself. “I’m exposed!”

I rapidly backed up behind a Summer’s Eve floor display to hide while I thought of a plan. I could just leave my buggy and run to the car, but after twenty minutes of shopping, I was loathe to ditch my groceries. If I stayed, I ran the risk of exposing my nads to the female shoppers. I decided to stay. I untucked my white dress shirt, which covered most everything, but the lower half my leg remained exposed. I wasn’t sure which was more conspicuous - exposed red boxers or untucked dress shirt.
 
I walked quickly down each aisle, as if my life depended on it. Whenever I felt the burning heat of someone staring at my buttocks, I would back up against a display case until they passed by. I was feeling more relaxed by aisle ten, when I was approached by an older gentleman. “Excuse me, did you know your pants were split?” he asked. “No, but thanks for taking the time to notice,” I replied. I wasn’t sure whether to be thankful or fearful that he noticed. Regardless, I turned the aisle and ran for the cash register.
 

Woody Woodpecker and the Bagger

The blonde, spacey lady was at the cash register that day. A nondescript teen girl, and Jimmy, the mentally retarded bag boy, were bagging groceries. The cashier would be my first obstacle - she had checked me out before, and I knew she liked to gab.

Spacey: So, how was your summer?
Brad: Fine…and yours?
Spacey: Well, mine was one of discovery. Sometimes tragedy has a way of transforming one into something greater. It’s definitely been a period of spiritual growth for me…
Brad: Interesting… [translated: Oh {expletive}. Why won’t you shut the {expletive} up and keeping ringing up my {major deity} damned groceries?]

Spacey continued her diatribe. I was anxious to get out of the store, so I remained silent, but that didn’t stop her from having a one-sided conversation.
 
I loved Jimmy the bagger (in the platonic sense). He was always friendly and quick. However, this time, Jimmy was fascinated by the cartoon woodpecker on the label of my Woodpecker Cider, so he stopped bagging and started admiring the packaging. “There’s a woodpecker on your box!” he exclaimed with glee. “Sweet Jesus Jimmy! My pants are ripped and my testicles might be exposed. Forget the beer, chowderhead - my reputation’s at stake! Keep bagging!” I yelled. He looked at me with a keen awareness, and he started bagging with a ferocity that I had never seen in a bagger. The female bagger seemed unimpressed by my vulgarity and kept her normal bagging pace.
 

Epilogue

I made it out of Kroger - scarred but smarter. I no longer work in an office, so the stretch pants are not part of my normal attire. Working at home, I’m not even sure if I’m required to wear pants, but I do. Whenever I go to the grocery store, I always inspect the crotch integrity of the pants I’m wearing beforehand. Spacey is still working the register at Kroger; I avoid her at all costs, unless I’m in the mood for a story. Jimmy has left Kroger and now works on the Obama transition team.
 
[Brad’s note: If you enjoyed this article, please tell a friend about this blog. During this depression, increased readership is the only thing that will keep the main street blogger open for business. Otherwise, I’ll be forced to sell the website to some other Brad Brown. Together, we can’t make a difference.]

Post from: Brad Brown

Pants - Who Needs Them?

Photo by chanchan222

Earlier this week, I started a new job. The eighteen neurons that compose my brain are fully taxed with the intricacies of programming cute, little Blackberries. In addition, I’m setting up a new blog, as well as implementing a new, massive firewall. In a nutshell, I’m so overloaded that I haven’t had time to be creative. I will return next Sunday with an article that’s bound to make you say, “What the hell was he thinking?” Until then, I’ll leave you with sage advice from the Hagakure.

There is surely nothing other than the single purpose of the moment. A man’s whole life is a succession of moment after moment. If one fully understands the present moment, there is nothing left to do, and nothing else to pursue.

Even if one’s head were to be suddenly cut off, he should be able to do one more action with certainty. With martial valor, if one becomes like a revengeful ghost and shows great determination, though his head is cut off, he should not die.

It is a good viewpoint to see the world as a dream. When you have something like a nightmare, you will wake up and tell yourself that it was only a dream. It is said that the world we live in is not a bit different from this.

In the Kamigata area, they have a sort of tiered lunchbox they use for a single day when flower viewing. Upon returning, they throw them away, trampling them underfoot. The end is important in all things.

Post from: Brad Brown

Der Weg des Samurai - Please Stand By

Photo by Shayne Kay

It’s not easy making money as an agent provocateur in this tough economy. Between selling my plasma (blood, not television), and eating rice and beans for three weeks, I’m fatigued and still broke. I almost had to sell this blog in order to pay the maid. I would try burglary, but the market’s too crowded as the unemployed suburbanites turn to crime to support their sushi habits. I need a new career, and what better job than a person who prints their own money. How am I going to do it? I’m glad you axed.
 

iCounterfeit (available at the Apple iCrime store)

Sometimes, when the mood strikes, I write computer programs. Mostly, I restrict myself to lofty applications designed to help people - helping people - that’s what it’s all about. You know that software that scans checks at your bank? I wrote that with the help of two Indian programmers named Alaka and Abha. You know that software that was used to create the dose of Sestamibi you were injected with before the X-Ray? I wrote that software while drinking tequila from the balcony of a cheap hotel in Puerto Rico in 1998 [true story - so if you glowed after the X-ray, it’s probably my fault.]. What’s the point of all this application name dropping? None really…
 
Most counterfeiting involves copying real dollars with a color printer. That seemed too complicated to me, so I created the iCounterfeit application (shown below), which allows you to print money, savings bonds, food stamps, or other financial instruments in the denomination of your choice, and adorned with any photo (by default, a photo of me from 1988). You can then print the documents to any printer. How easy can that be? You can thank me later.

Spending Fake Cash

When it comes to using your faux money, skip the forty-five year old white teller at the bank window [I’m white, I know these things]. She can spot fake money from a mile away. The best place to spend funny money is at an illegal gambling establishment. They’re always dark, the proprietors aren’t the smartest, and if they catch you, they won’t call the police. They may beat you senseless and cut off your thumbs with a cigar cutter, but they won’t call the police. Assuming I was to print fake money, I would saunter to the Texaco down the street and spend it there. Habib, the owner, runs illegal slots in the alcove to the left of the Slurpee machine. You can just play the slots to your heart’s content, and not worry about losing money since you can always print more. After gambling, you can then buy groceries for the week. You’ll save hundreds each month compared to a real grocery store where you have to use real money. Every town has a special Texaco like this; ask around and you’ll find yours.
 
If you’d rather live the high life and you don’t mind travel, just buy diamonds from one pawn shop and hock them at another as you drive up the coast of Florida. By the time you reach Kennebunkport, you will have accumulated millions of real dollars and a great tan. Then, you can retire with the Nazi sympathizers in Argentina, or with the snowbirds in Boca Del Vista, Florida.
 

Detecting the Secret Service (特勤局)

When you utilize counterfeit money, the US government calls in the big guns; I’m not talking about Sheriff Pusser or the FBI. The moment a suspect counterfeit bill is detected, the Secret Service is dispatched. Usually, they’ll setup a stakeout at the location the money was originally exchanged, in hopes of catching the criminal. If you know what to look for, you can spot the Secret Service before you perform the criminal act, thus avoiding prosecution. Here are a few tips:

• If you see a guy talking into his collar, it’s the Secret Service
• If Habib has been replaced by a thin, white guy named Steve, it’s the Secret Service.
• If the Wal-mart associate licks your money before putting it into the cash register tray, it’s the Secret Service.
• If you wake up, and you are on the floor and handcuffed, it’s the Secret Service. If you’re handcuffed and gagged, it’s the Zodiac Killer.

Questions Asked Frequently

1. Aren’t you worried about the guv’mint breaking down your door and shipping you to Guantanamo Bay? Information like this can cause a recession!
    
   After spending eighteen years in Alcatraz, very little rattles me anymore.
    
2. How can I prevent from being duped by a potential counterfeiter like you?
    
   Good question. When not encouraging criminal activity, I consult with law enforcement agencies on counterfeit detection methodologies [it pays to play both sides of the fence]. The only device I recommend is the one with my name on it - the Brad Brown Dri-Mark® Counterfeit Money Detector Pen. Dri-Mark® - the name bloggers know and trust! You just rub it once on the suspect document (or multiple times if you’re feeling frisky) and if the marked area turns black, you’ve got a counterfeit bill. If it remains amber, you’ve ruined the bill.
    
3. What’s prison like?
    
   Disney Land, but with more intimacy and shorter lines.

Further Reading

Perhaps counterfeiting is not your cup of tea. I suggest one of the following articles, one of which might entice you into the magic and mystery which is crime…

Seven Ways to Become a Better Bank Robber.
Seven Ways to Become a Better Prostitute.
The 4 Habits of Highly Effective Pimps.
Seven Ways to Become a Better Burglar.

Post from: Brad Brown

How to Become a Better Counterfeiter

The big brown trucks driven by UPS drivers are called package cars. When I worked at UPS Corporate, a retiree (to whom I’ll give the pseudonym “George Hamilton,” given his resemblance to overcooked bacon) gave me a miniature die-cast package car. The truck is similar to the one shown above, except the one I’m giving away is mounted to a block of wood (suitable for placing on your awards credenza), and it’s painted with the old UPS logo. It was manufactured for UPS’s 90th birthday celebration in 1997.
 

The Contest

To enter the contest, leave a comment below, listing the URLs of your three favorite blogs or websites (any URL besides mine; PG sites only please). Self-promotion is encouraged, so don’t be reticent to list your personal site. If it sucks, the audience will let you know. The winner will be picked by random drawing at a random time on Sunday, November 23rd, 2008. I will ship anywhere in the universe, as long as the shipping cost is under $25.00 USD [assuming the dollar still has value by the time you read this]. If you need any clarification of the rules, email me.

Unsolicited Trivia

• There are no radios in a real package car. By leaving out the radio, it allows more time for drivers to talk with their mistresses via cell phone.
• The top of a UPS truck is white, not brown. It’s a coating called Super Therm®, applied to reduce interior temps (it’s also used to prevent the Space Shuttle from melting). Without this coating, the inside of a UPS truck would reach temperatures of 170+ degrees in a matter of minutes during the summer.
• If you wonder why you never see old UPS trucks on the road, it’s because they’re crushed when they reach end of life. Otherwise, an enterprising criminal could purchase a truck and use it as a base for mischief. UPS drivers are trusted entities, and it would quite easy for a thief to gain access to potential loot by posing as a driver.

Questions Asked Frequently

1. How much is it worth?
    
   I don’t know. Given that it’s eleven years old and not readily available on eBay, I would assume it would be worth $30 or more. There are three strips of visible transparent tape (?) on the commemorative box, so that might diminish the overall value.
    
2. How big is it?
    
   That’s what she said. But seriously…the car itself is about 4×3x2 inches. The block on which it’s mounted is about 5×7 inches, and is made of a stained pressed wood.

Post from: Brad Brown

United Parcel Service Package Car Giveaway

• Phase IV (1974) - (Lynne Frederick) - Mutant ants invade an isolated, desert ghost town. For some reason (perhaps oil), the government decides to investigate. Everyone dies. Two thumbs up if you’re a geek; otherwise, avoid this movie.
• Scanners (1981) - (Jennifer O’Neill, Michael Ironside) - A good psychic battles an evil psychic. They telepathically give each other migraines. Sometimes, they accidentally explode the heads of innocent passersby. Thumbs up.
• Vanishing Point (1971) - (Barry Newman, Gilda Texter) - Smokey and The Bandit, minus Jerry Reed, and set in the deserts of the western US. Sally Field is replaced by a nude blonde on a motorcycle. A lengthy movie where most of the drama is psychological. Thumbs up if you like car chase movies; otherwise, you’ll fall asleep.
• Bangkok Dangerous (2008) - (Nicholas Cage, Charlie Yeung) - Nicholas Cage channels the spirit and acting style of Steven Seagal. Nicholas plays a sniper sent to Thailand to rid the world of four miscreants. He falls in love and has a change of heart about his profession. I fell asleep at that point. Thumbs down - avoid at all costs.
• Crack Heads Gone Wild (2006) - (Miscellaneous crack heads) - Documentary about crack heads on the streets of Atlanta. Save your money and watch Cops instead.
• Workout: One-On-One Training with Jackie (2008) - (Jackie Warner, Erika Jacobson, Agostina Laneri) - A thin, sexy lesbian, along with her merry group of fitness trainers, makes you feel bad about being fat. Thumbs up - although it psychologically scarred me, I’ve lost thirty pounds in two months, and you can too!
• Burnt Offerings (1976) - (Karen Black, Oliver Reed) - A family moves into a haunted house. The house possesses Dad, forcing him to choke his son and seduce Bette Davis. The house collapses and everyone dies. Thumbs up - one of the more suspenseful horror movies of the seventies.
• Gargoyles (1972) - (Jennifer Salt, Cornel Wilde) - This movie sparked my obsession with gargoyles. A scientist investigates gargoyle sightings in the desert. Surprisingly, no one dies. If you watch closely, you’ll see Martin Mull and Bernie Casey as gargoyles. Thumbs up. Low production quality but an excellent story.
• Jeepers Creepers (2001) - (Justin Long, Gina Philips) - The kid from the Apple Macintosh commercials (the former Mr. Drew Barrymore) battles a psycho killer in a souped-up hearse. If I remember, evil triumphs in the end, because there was a Jeepers Creepers sequel soon after the first one. Thumbs up - it holds your interest quite well and is not the typical slasher movie.
• Billy Jack (1971) - (Tom Laughlin, Delores Taylor) - Indian karate expert hurts local rednecks in order to save an alternative hippie school from closure. Dr. Johnny Fever (as Don Sturdy) has a bit part as well. Good drama that’s quite engrossing. Thumbs up.
• Cannibal Women in the Avocado Jungle of Death (1989) - (Bill Maher, Shannon Tweed) - Shannon and Bill travel deep into the jungles of Southern California, looking for a mysterious tribe of hot ladies [I’m serious - that’s the plot]. Thumbs down, unless you’ve been drinking.
• Dark Star (1974) - (Dan O’Bannon) - The Dark Star’s crew is on a 20-year comedic mission to destroy unstable planets (Iraq) and make way for future colonization (by the US). This is John Carpenter’s first film, and quite unlike anything else he has directed since (Halloween). Thumbs up.
• Videodrome (1983) - (James Woods, Debbie Harry) - James Woods seduces Debbie Harry (of Blondie fame). He then becomes addicted to cable access television. I think there’s more to the movie, but nothing worth remembering. Thumbs down unless you’re a David Cronenberg fan.
• Duel (1971) - (Dennis Weaver) - This is Spielberg’s first film. Dennis Weaver combats high gas prices by letting himself be chased by a psychotic Exxon tanker truck driver. Thumbs up if you’re a guy, thumbs down otherwise.
• Harold and Maude (1971) - (Ruth Gordon, Bud Cort) - A quirky, female nonagenarian seduces a twelve-year-old boy. Luckily, there were no laws against this back then, so Maude escapes the death chair, and Harold gains the valuable knowledge of seduction that will serve him well later in life. A quirky, dark comedy. Thumbs up.

If you can’t get enough of these brief reviews, but sure to check out “Twenty-one Short Movie Reviews” and “Twenty-two Short Movie Reviews.” Feel free to leave a comment letting us know about any great movies you’ve seen lately.

Post from: Brad Brown

Compendious Reviews of Numerous Movies

Photo by Mike Baird

“Canadians are very hospitable, welcoming people - particularly in provincial and rural Canada. The majority of Canadians are very tolerant and follow a ‘live and let live’ philosophy. There is often a stronger sense of community and duty in Canadian towns than can be found in other countries.” - LivingIn-Canada.com

“I’d studied your cartoons, radio, music, TV, movies, magazines. I was brain-dead, locked out, numb, not up to speed.” - REM - “What’s the Frequency, Kenneth?“

As a kid, I became aware of our mysterious neighbor to the north while listening to the song “The Necromancer” from Rush’s album “Caress of Steel.” The song recounts the red tape encountered by three Canadian immigrants during the Vietnam War. The song conjured up visions of embassies, passports, and wizards that intrigued me as a young adult. As I grew up and into my assisted living years, I discovered there were more practical reasons for moving to Canada besides the fun of fording the River Dawn. They are:

• Free healthcare.
• A resilient economy, with thousands of great career fields such as high technology and forest ranging.
• A thriving community of artists, such as Селин Дион, Kim Mitchell, Meg Tilly, and Avril Lavigne.
• Proximity to Russia - You can walk over the North Pole or drive across the Alaska-Rusco Bridge and be within Moscow in just a few hours.

Legal Immigration

Legal immigration is the slowest method of immigration and I highly discourage it. First, you have to submit a form 2535 to the Canadian Nationalization Service, along with a 600-word essay describing what living in Canada would potentially mean to you. The approval process can take up to six months, but even then, you’re not finished. The next step is a psychological questionnaire that determines your level of sociopathy, psychopathy and misanthropy. If you score more than 80%, you’re automatically placed on a “never let enter” list, and your chances of getting in, now or in the future, are zero.
 
If you make it past the initial application, the essay, and the psychological screening, your final hurdle is an IQ test, similar to the SAT taken by high schoolers before entering college. This test ensures that only the best and brightest get into Canada, leaving the chaff for lesser countries with less stringent standards, such as Lichtenstein and Cabo Wabo. The average processing time for the application and tests is about three years - hence my suggestion for speedier, albeit illegal, approaches for moving to Canada.

Climbing Over the Wall

The Canadian Mauer Wall, built in 1963, separates Canada from the United States. Many people in the rural South think of it as a symbol of the Cold War. This wall is the only thing that prevents free flow of human cargo from one country to the next. At fifteen feet high, topped with razor wire, it’s a formidable foe, but it’s nothing that can’t be overcome. You can try the standard fence-jumping techniques that prisoners use, but I’ve formulated a much simpler method which seems to work well given the limited testing I’ve done on the simulated border wall that I’ve constructed in my back yard. You’ll require a throw rug, a small exercise trampoline, and courage. Do the following:

1. Place the trampoline about five feet away from the wall.
2. Hold the rug in front of you with your arms outstretched, as if you’re trying to shield yourself from bullets from a Bolivian firing squad.
3. Run towards the trampoline, as if your life depended on it.
4. Jump on the trampoline, then up towards the razor wire.
5. The carpet will shield you from the razor wire when you bounce off the top of the wall and into the Canadian DMZ.
6. Head to Montréal and live out your dreams!

Tunneling Your Way In

If a fear of heights prevents you from jumping over the wall, an alternative is to tunnel your way under it. It’s the way dope smugglers have been doing it for years. Unfortunately, this method will take a team effort if you hope to dig a tunnel quickly, unless you happen to own a Boeing XJ-1400 tunnel boring machine. If you’re lacking friends, as many of us are in this society isolated by technology, consider hiring Mexican illegals to do the work for you. You can house them in any of the Motel 6’s found along the more rural sections of the wall, and the aliens can do the work under the cover of darkness when no one will notice. On average, the typical undocumented Mexican can move 300-cubic feet of dirt per night. Assuming you hire five Mexicans, you can walk through your tunnel and into Canada within two weeks.

Bribing the Border Guard(s)

There are official crossings into Canada, similar to what we in the US share with Mexico, but without the free tacos. The only problem is that you’re not allowed entry unless you have Canadian citizenship. However, you can bribe your way in, particularly if you try one of the less frequented entrances, like the ones along the Wisconsin border.
 
The key to a successful bribe is knowing what the Canadian border guards like. Your chances of getting in are greater if your graft includes one or more of the following:

• Hickory Farms Summer Sausage
• Dickies
• Walkmans
• Malaysian Hookers
• Santo Gold

Frequently Asked Questions

1. Where can I go for more information on the different methods for entering Canada?
    
   I recommend the 60 Minutes segment “Dying to Get In.” Although it describes immigration to the US from Mexico, the methods described can be used at any border.
    
2. What theme song do you recommend for this endeavor? Illegal activity is more fulfilling when accompanied by theme music.
    
   “Rise” by Herb Alpert, or “Allied Forces” by Triumph. Herb isn’t Canadian, but his song makes me feel like I’m doing something illegal in a leisurely fashion. Play the Triumph song if you chose the “jump over the wall” ™ method; it’s so full of energy, it’ll make you want to move.
    
3. What if I get stuck in the razor wire?
    
   You’re screwed.
    

[Brad’s note: This topic was suggested by Canada’s XUP at ExUrbanPedestrian.Wordpress.com. If you have any topics you’d like me to write about, feel free to suggest them.]

Post from: Brad Brown

How to Immigrate to Canada

Ever since I lost the U.S. presidential election in 2008, people have been asking me what my long-term plans are. My lifelong dream is to open a Kia dealership in Kuala Lumpur. I have fantasies of intimidating the tiny people into purchasing tiny cars at substantial prices. I’ve never forgotten my five years in a Vietnamese prison camp, and I want to seek vengeance against them before I die. Of course, Lumpurians aren’t Vietnamese, but they’re close enough for my purposes.
 
My wife has been nagging me ever since I lost the election, so hopefully I won’t have to take her with me. After all, she’ll make more money managing her beer distributorship than she will with me. If she does decide to come, I’ll make her the spokesmodel for my dealership. In the commercials, I envision her standing naked behind strategically-positioned tires, inviting the folks to compare our prices with the other, more sinister dealers. Her catchphrase would be “Come on down and see what Grandma looks like naked.” The little Lumpurians would line up for hours just to have their photo taken with Cindy. Eventually, she would become a staple of Lumpurian media, the same way we once worshiped Pam Anderson in America.
 
I’ve often thought that given the large size of my cheeks, my head would make a great effigy. Rather than build the standard glass and steel building to house the cars, I thought of building a giant stucco head that resembles my noggin. Each cheek of the giant head would be made of rose-colored glass so that customers could get a clear view of the cars. Customers would enter through my mouth into the palatial showroom, walking over a painted tongue on the floor that runs clear from the giant papier-mâché teeth in the front to the ventilation uvula in the back. I envision people driving by and exclaiming “Hey, that looks just like Mr. Magoo, but without the hat. Let’s stop in and check out that Korean engineering!”

 
I’ve also been thinking about inviting Sarah Palin over to join me - Asians just love her. Her snowmobile dealership has fallen on hard times now that the Alaskan ice is melting. I could use a strong salesman like her to entice the male buyers. “…and this Kia Spectra gets 15 miles to the liter, more if you convert it to gallons,” she says, as she leans back against the hood, unbuttoning her blouse a notch while simultaneously putting the temple stem of her eyeglasses seductively into her mouth. “I’ll take it! And give me the twenty-year extended warranty.” says the unsuspecting buyer. I knew choosing her as my VP would pay off in the long run.
 
I’m not sure of the best way to seek revenge on those who resemble those who imprisoned me. I could sell my cars at outrageous prices, but that would be a passive-aggressive behavior; I want something more overt - something that says “I’m back, and this time, it’s personal.” A service department attack would probably be best - upselling the customer on a gas-enhancing additive, like maple syrup, that would damage the car days after the customer takes it home. At night, when the dealership is closed, I’d roam the service bays laughing maniacally, as all good villains do.
 
Regardless, all this is still a dream. As I write this, I’m sitting on the lanai of my Arizona mansion, sipping mint juleps, while watching my twin Dobermans Mitzi and Fred frolic on the freshly mowed Zoysia. Perhaps tomorrow I’ll get out of my pajamas and continue with my memoir. For now, I must keep the gentle people potential victims of Kuala Lumpur waiting for their Korean cars. “Hey Cindy…Ke mana anda hendak pergi dengan basikal itu? Bolehkah saya ikut?”

Post from: Brad Brown

John McCain’s Retirement Plans - A New Hope

Photo by Jason Scragz

[Brad’s note: Those of you hoping for an article on the art of committing home invasions will have to wait for my forthcoming article, “Planning a Successful Home Invasion.”]
 
The ladies of the neighborhood bridge club have been spamming me with information on the numerous home invasions that have been occurring here lately. Everyday, there’s a fresh mugshot of someone who resembles me with a bad complexion and missing teeth. I haven’t the heart to reply and tell them that Brad Brown is to criminals as Rambo is to the Vietcong. In other words, there’s nothing to worry about as long as I’m living in this neighborhood. I’ve been fighting crime ever since I started watching Batman as a kid. But I can’t be everywhere at once, so I thought I’d distill thirty-eight years of crime-fighting expertise into six, pithy paragraphs. Remember, get them, before they get you.
 

Characteristics of Suspicious Characters

Baggy eyes. Prominent jowls. No makeup. Orange jumpsuits. Hasidic beards. If you see any of these in your neighborhood, you’re in for trouble.

Choosing the Perfect Weapon

I prefer a single-shot .410 (pronounced “four ten”), the smallest shotgun known to man. The advantage of such a small weapon is maneuverability. It’s the only gun that allows me to perform the flying back kicks that I’m known for, without dropping my gun. I keep one in the bed, one taped under the coffee table, and one in the refrigerator. That way, no matter in which room I’m attacked, I’ll be ready.
 

Weapon Improvisation

Unless you want to wear a holster around the house, there may be times you don’t have a weapon handy, or so it would seem. Most every household item can be used as a weapon. Here are my favorites:

• Fire extinguishers - You can either throw them at the culprit, or lather him down with slippery foam to blind him or cause him to fall.
• Lamps - Aunt Quida (pronounced “Wii Dah”, God rest her soul) gave me a set of lamps from the 50s, with bases made of heavy lead. I’m just waiting for the opportunity to use one if someone breaks in while I’m watching Judge Judy.
• Dull kitchen knives - Sure, you could use a sharp kitchen knife, but I think a dull one would be more painful, and as such, a greater deterrent.
• Hot coffee - To really add insult to injury, ask “Can I get you some coffee?” before throwing it on the culprit.
• Morton’s iodized salt - Boy, does that stuff burn. Unfortunately, you’ll have to get close to your attacker, as well as have good coordination, in order to get the salt shaker near his eyes.
• Aluminum baseball bats - These are cheap and easy to use. You could use a wood bat, but if the perp has a thick skull, you might break the bat, leaving yourself defenseless.

Practice Makes Perfect

You can’t prepare for a bomb threat without a drill, and the same holds true for home invasions. I like to schedule home invasion drills every couple of months. A group of friends and I have formed an invasion task force, and at random times throughout the year, a member of the task force will violently break into my house so I can practice what I’ve learned. In lieu of a real gun, I use a toy sawed-off shotgun that shoots darts, along with faux grenades. We end each practice session by drinking cosmopolitans and discussing breakthroughs in crime-fighting technology.
 
You’re probably asking yourself, “How do you distinguish between a faux invasion and an authentic one? I’d hate to disable my fishing buddy Bob.” That’s an excellent question. It’s best to have your friend wear an orange vest, a Braves baseball cap, and a flashing strobe light. Between the color, the flashing, and the fraternity-brother headgear, you should be able to distinguish your friend from an authentic criminal.

Choosing the Perfect Catchphrase

Before you maim anyone, it’s better to utter some bit of witty dialogue to add to the surreality of the moment. Otherwise, your story risks becoming another unmemorable article in the back pages of a newspaper. I’ve hand-selected six classic phrases from the movies and television for your use:

• “I’ve got a fever, and the only prescription, is more shotgun.” - Bruce Dickinson.
• “People who really want to have a good time won’t come to Brad’s house. We’ve got entirely too many troublemakers here. Too many 38-year-old adolescents, felons, power drinkers and trustees of modern chemistry. Is that my TV?” - Road House.
• “I don’t know what your problem is, but I’m sure it can be solved by resorting to violence.” - Twins.
• “Pop quiz, hotshot. There’s a burglar in my house. Once he touches my toaster, I load my shotgun. If he runs with my toaster, I shoot him. What do you do? What do you do?” - Speed.
• ” I know what you’re thinking. “Is he wearing Miley Cyrus boxers?” Well, to tell you the truth, in all this excitement I kind of lost track myself. But being as this is a large fire extinguisher, the most powerful extinguisher in its class, and would knock your head clean off, you’ve got to ask yourself one question: Do I feel lucky? Well, do ya, punk?” - Dirty Harry.
• “In Sicily, women are more dangerous than shotguns. Unfortunately, this is Atlanta, Georgia…” - The Godfather.

Final Tips

• Donate to the fraternal order of police in your area and apply their bumper sticker to the back of your car. You can be assured of preferential treatment during the crime scene investigation.
• Always aim a gun at someone even if you don’t intend to shoot them. I picked up this excellent tip in the Boy Scouts.
• Confuse the miscreant by plugging in a smoke machine the moment you hear him breaking it. You can then get the jump on him by hiding in the smoke.
• A tomcat, or Jack Russell Terrier, thrown at just the right moment will be enough to distract the burglar while you tackle him.
• The strange, guttural sounds made by a martial artist (what we in the industry refer to as a “kiap“) are very threatening sounds to a crook. Make these sounds as you advance, whether or not you know martial arts.

About the Author

Brad Brown has served as a BSA Special Forces Small Arms Instructor, Cooking Instructor, and NRA Taser Instructor. He is currently a certifiable firearms instructor, self-appointed honorary deputy sheriff, and a fond viewer of the program S.W.A.T. Brad has provided training to elderly women in shopping malls, and has been active in small arms training for the past five months. He has written firearms-related material for Trebuchets & Melons, Peacetime Handguns, and Soldier of Misanthropy. He has contributed to at least eighteen other gun/leisure journals. He is a founding member of BUL468 and BWE.

Post from: Brad Brown

Preparing for a Home Invasion

When I was your age, we didn’t have fancy Halloween costumes or gadgets. Your costume choices were: Batman, Casper, Superman, or Wonder Woman - that was it, and we liked it! When you went on your candy-gathering excursion, you carried a flashlight. There were no GPSes or flashing pumpkins to guide your way; if you got lost, you just sat and cried until either Dad or “McHenry the Molester” rescued you. It was a simpler time, when your only worry was choking on the sewing needle hidden in your Hershey’s Kiss. Today, we’re afflicted with affluenza, and Halloween is the latest casualty. Now there are thousands of products for Halloween. Rather than discourage you from spending money on Halloween (which would be the moral thing to do), I thought I’d instead encourage you to spend wildly. There are several reasons why:

• The economy is tanking, and Halloween will be your last chance for celebration. Don’t wait for Christmas. You’ll be getting a lump of coal for Christmas, and you’ll probably have to eat it.
• If Obama is elected POTUS, he’ll enact strict anti-fun laws that will funnel all your money into a healthcare boondoggle. Spend your money before he does.
• If McCain is elected POTUS, he’ll die, leaving Sarah Palin as POTUS. To pander to the religious right, she’ll outlaw Halloween, given its celebration of witchcraft, Satanism, and all things holy and delicious.

Either way, you’re screwed. Halloween is your last chance to enjoy a good time. Spend, Reader, Spend!
 

Halloween Masks

What was the mask-maker thinking? The Barack Obama mask resembles an exaggerated Chris Rock, the John McCain mask looks like my grandmother, and Mitt Romney looks like Mr. Rogers with his eyes gouged out. Still, these are the scariest masks I could find. If I were you, I would purchase all three. Start the night out as John McCain, and in lieu of the hackneyed “trick or treat,” begin your candy-begging presentation with “My friends, remember the words of Chairman Mao: ‘It’s always darkest before it’s totally black. Now give me some candy, for my sack’.” Switch to Barack Obama after an hour or so, and use the following line: “I’ve now been in 57 states - I think one left to go. Now let’s see what kind of candy, is sitting in that bowl.” End the night wearing the Romney mask, and exclaim at each house, “I’m Mr. Rogers. Someone gouged my eyes out! Some candy might improve my outlook on life…”
 

Halloween Costumes

To be dishonest with you, I can’t stand wearing full-head, rubber masks. They make your head steam up more than a woman in a Turkish prison. I prefer flame-friendly polyester costumes combined with those hard plastic masks that press against your face so tightly, you’ll feel like your eyes will pop out. Regardless of my costume tendencies, I can’t bring myself to pay $19.99 for a piece of colorful plastic. I think it’s better to save the dough and make your own costume. Here are two ideas:

• Pregnant Britney Spears - If you’re slim, wrap your torso in bubble wrap and put on a dress (if you’re male, borrow a dress from your wife or mother). If you’re obese, skip the bubble wrap, unless you want to give the impression of carrying triplets. “Is you my baby’s daddy? We gone get a DNA!” will be your catchphrase for the evening.
• Beer-bottle Transformer - Tape beer bottles to each of your shoulders, with the mouth of the bottles facing forward. Fill each bottle partially with beer, so that you can walk without spilling any. Tape random pieces of metal to your body to make yourself look robotic, and then go trick or treating. When the homeowner opens the door, jerk your shoulders up and forward, dousing the unsuspecting person with beer. You may not get any candy, but the experience will be memorable. “Our planet was once a powerful, beer-loving empire, until we were betrayed by MegaKeg, leader of the frat boys. All who defied him were destroyed. Our war finally consumed the planet, and the Milwaukee’s Best was lost to the stars. I followed it to your house.”

Halloween Candy to Avoid

I didn’t like cheap, nasty candy as a kid, and I don’t like giving it to the neighborhood kids these days. Here’s a list of what not to buy if you’re an adult. If you’re a kid, consider this a list of candies that should spur retribution, such as the “burning bag o’ poop on the doorstep” prank. The top five Halloween candies that suck are:

• 5. Altoids, 25-lb bag - “Serge, I’m so tired of giving out truffles to the kids for Halloween. How about we kick it up a notch with Altoids?”
• 4. Chocolate coins - Take a quarter teaspoon of imitation chocolate and wrap it with gold foil that’s hard to remove.
• 3. Licorice Gummi Wheels - Take a childhood favorite, give it a bad taste, and shape it in the form of a truck tire.
• 2. Jolt Caffeine Energy Gum - Give fresh breath and an energy boost to an ADHD kid before he goes home to mom.
• 1. Candy Corn - “Hey Jimmy. I have a great idea. Let’s manufacture a candy that looks like the vegetable every kid hates. Brilliant! What else do I have?”

Remember - stick with milk chocolate, variety packs, and Skittles. They’re good for you and the environment.
 

Safety First

The “sewing needle in a Hershey’s Kiss” story is not an urban legend. In 197?, I was sharing my candy with the hottie next door (Tammy, my babysitter - only as an adult did I realize she was attractive). I poured out my bag of candy onto the kitchen table and we started eating. She picked up a Hershey’s Kiss and sure enough, there was a needle stuck in it. Given the number of neighborhoods we had canvassed that night, it was impossible to determine the culprit. Mom threw the remaining candy into the trash and gave us sliced carrots instead. “No more candy for you!” said the candy Nazi (Mom). From that day forward, every Halloween meant an evening of bobbing for homemade granola out of a bucket on the back porch. Bummer!

Post from: Brad Brown

2008 Halloween Affluenza Buying Guide

Motivation

Resigning from your job is like a television show. It can be dry and blunt, in which case it’s hardly noticed. Alternatively, it can be capricious and exciting like “Seinfeld” and it’ll foster fond memories for years after you’ve left the company. I prefer the latter. Here’s my guide for a meaningful and enjoyable job resignation. Your company won’t know what hit them, but they’ll laugh like Catholic schoolgirls after it’s over.
 

Drop Hints Of Your Departure

The most exciting part of the movie “Jaws” wasn’t the shark attack itself, but the suspense leading up to the attack, compounded by the shark’s theme song. Resignations should have the same increasing intensity. Don’t just quit - start hinting at your departure weeks before, and gradually increase the frequency of those hints as the day approaches. The facial expressions of your co-workers will be priceless - the confused look of “Is he hinting at what I think he is?” Here are some samples:
 

Co-worker: “Brad, Atlanta Depreciation and Loan just called. They need that report by tomorrow!”
Brad: “I hope it all works out for them.”

Staff Manager: “Brad, your TPS report is missing the cover page. I can’t accept this report without a cover page.”
Brad: “Sorry. Give it back to me and I’ll correct it within two weeks.”

Project Manager: “Brad, we’ve got six months of work that needs to be completed within three. Do you think you can do it? You’re our only hope.”
Brad: “Sure. If I don’t quit abruptly, we can probably do it in one.”

Letter of Resignation

Keep it simple. Here’s a template:

Dear Mr. अभिलाषा इन्द्रजित (a.k.a. “Jerry”):
 
I am writing to announce my resignation from White Castle, effective two weeks from this date.
 
This was not an easy decision to make, on my part. The past nine days have been very rewarding. I’ve enjoyed working for you and managing a very successful team dedicated to a quality, tiny burger delivered hot and promptly.
 
Thank you for the opportunities for retardation that you have provided me.
 
Sincerely,
Adriana Lima

Informing Your Staff

If you don’t have a staff, you should get one; underlings are quite enjoyable. For those employees that you loathe, I recommend stopping by their cubicle and whispering “You’re {expletive}-ed!” into their ear, and then walking away without explanation. For those employees you do like, I recommend breaking the news while simultaneously giving a little token of your appreciation. For instance:

Brad: “Janine, I just wanted to let you know that I’m leaving the company. As a token of my appreciation, I’d like to give you this Dwight Schrute bobble head doll.”
 
Janine: “Brad, you were always my favorite manager. I will miss your stern discipline and gentle mentoring. Thank you for this token. I will cherish it forever.”

Outrageous Reasons for Leaving

“I’ve found a new job” is too passé. Spice up your departure with an interesting reason for leaving. You’ll be the envy of your co-workers, which is an odd thought, given that they’re the same people you’ll want to avoid after you’re gone. Here are some samples:

• “I’m joining a think tank. Perhaps you’ve heard of them…The Edwin O. Reischauer Center for Burrito Consumption?”
• “Barack Obama called. He wants me to be Secretary of New Media Mavericks.”
• “I’m on a mission from God.” [don’t bother getting more specific]
• “I’m the new host of Pants Off Dance Off.”
• “I felt it was time to put my gynecological skills to good use.”

Informing Your Co-workers

In 2001, my friend Steve announced his departure from Alogent by sending out the most insincere email to the entire company. I recommend doing the same thing. It’ll make those who know you laugh, and it’ll make those who don’t know you think you’re gracious. Either way, you’ll appear to be a winner. I’ve been using the same departure letter for the past seven years. Feel free to take it and use it as your own.

As most of you know, Wednesday October 1st is my last day as an employee of VSoft. It’s been an exciting 5+ months and all I can say is that I have been very fortunate to have had the opportunity to be in this industry and at VSoft. What an incredible chance to work with such a great set of people! I was also very fortunate to be in an environment that allowed me to work on a team that was able to have such a positive and significant impact on the way people work with banking technology.
 
Thank you for your timely guidance and encouragement. Even though I will miss you all and the company very much, I am looking forward to this new job and the opportunity of beginning a new phase of my career as a mesothelioma lawyer.
 
You can keep in touch with me at my blog: http://www.BradBrown.com
 
Please direct any future custom development questions to Corina Stergiadou at extension 666.
 
Good luck,
Brad Brown
“Live. Take Charge. Change!” ™

 
The “Live. Take Charge. Change!” tripe was stolen from a United Way promotion at UPS. I liked it so much I added it to my resignation letter when I quit UPS.
 

The Final Walkthrough

Do not just walk out the door on your final day - that would leave no impression whatsoever. First, tape a note to the garbage can to thank the cleaning staff (”Brilliant work Valdez! Maybe next time you can get all the trash.”). Next, walk through all the cubes, greet those you’ve never met before (”Hey chubby Chinese guy. Just wanted to say goodbye and let you know I’ll miss those passive-aggressive phone conversations you had with your overbearing wife. Good luck with the vasectomy.”). Go into the break room, and stuff your favorite Gevalia coffee pods into your pants for use at the new job. Walk by Human Resources, and perform an act prohibited by the employee handbook (”Wendy, you’re hot. Let’s go bowling sometime.”). Finally, walk past the CEO’s office, introduce yourself, ask “What’s wrong with you?” and leave the building before security folds your knees back.
 
[Brad’s note: After you’ve quit, you may feel the need to purchase gadgets to play with during your vacation. I recommend my article “Amazing Products You Don’t Really Need.” Eventually, you may have no money for food. For that, I recommend reading my “2008 Recession Survival Guide” before your power is cut off.]

Post from: Brad Brown

How to Quit Your Job

I was sixteen when I realized that I wanted to play guitar. I was watching Headbangers Ball in a Panama City hotel room when the Iron Maiden song “The Trooper” started playing on the television. What I saw sparked a yearning in me that I had never felt before (not counting Penthouse magazine). I was hooked - the spandex, the long hair, the chicks - I wanted it all. After returning home from spring break, I set a course for rock stardom.
 

Perfectly Good Guitar

My Mom (we’ll call her Myra) thought it best if I purchased an acoustic guitar and learned folk songs, like Camptown Ladies (”Camptown ladies sing this song, doo dar, doo dar…”). I thought it best if I skipped acoustic guitar and went straight for the electric, so I could play songs by Yngwie J. Malmsteen (Sweden’s answer to John Denver). Mom controlled the purse strings (literally), so she won the battle. I spent the next year playing my three chords on a Yamaha acoustic, dreaming of the day when I could start shredding. “Shredding,” for the musically clueless, involves playing scales really fast without any melody whatsoever. It’s what happens when you apply athletic prowess to guitar playing. In the late 80’s, it was all the rage.
 
I was a sneaky bastard. When Mom asked what I wanted for Christmas that year, I told her I wanted another acoustic guitar. “What’s wrong with the one you have?” she axed. “It really sucks,” I replied. So she gave me $100 and told me to buy whatever I wanted. What I wanted was a Sears and Roebuck electric guitar, black with red trim. What I really wanted was a Fender Stratocaster with scalloped fingerboard and custom Dimarzio pickups, but since money was tight, I opted for a Sears model instead. I placed the order and waited. Eventually, the guitar was delivered and I opened the package with the eagerness of a young man expecting an official Red Ryder carbine-action 200-shot range model BB gun with a compass in the stock. Mom said, “That doesn’t look like an acoustic guitar.” I assured her it was, and ran with it into my room to begin practicing my hot licks. Eventually, I tricked her into buying me an amp as well. I had arrived.
 

You’re Fired

My friend Cliff and I stopped by his buddy’s house one Saturday. We walked into the garage where his friends were practicing. They were starting a band and they wanted to see if I would be a good fit. Each of them had been playing their respective instruments for just a couple of months. I had spent an entire year practicing for two to three hours a night in my bedroom; I had become the Yngwie Malmsteen of eastern Alabama. The other guitar player said, “Why don’t you play a little for us?” I started with Eruption by Van Halen, then did a little Judas Priest, and ended with a little Racer X. When I finished, their mouths were all agape with shock and awe. I thought it was a good sign - they all laughed, patted me on the back, and told me they’d see me next week.
 
Two days later, Cliff called to tell me that I was a bit too good, and that the other guitarist was worried that I’d make him look bad. I was fired from my first band even before the first practice! This brings up an important life lesson for the younger BradBrown.com reader - don’t ever let them see how good you are, in any endeavor, until you’re ensconced. Find out what the average is, and work to achieve that average. That way, you won’t scare the underachievers who control your fate.
 

Madison Square Garden

Every year at school, we had a talent show. I decided to enter. The plan was for me to play solo for two minutes. I walked on stage, plugged my Sears guitar into my Peavey Renown amp, and started playing. It’s amazing how you lose track of time when you really get into your music. Five minutes later, I looked down and saw a friend giving me the “cut” sign across his throat. I quickly wrapped it up, and later lost the contest to a girl with a dancing poodle. Afterward, I heard stories of the elderly ladies in the audience grimacing in horror as I played. I would have loved to have seen that. The good news is that my popularity soared among the young teenage girls, and I was worshiped like a major deity (at least that’s how I remember it).
 

Don’t Bring Me Down, Gruß

I had three career choices as a teen: rocker, English professor, and computer programmer. Myra had a heart-to-heart with me one day, and she told me that only computer programmers made money, and that I’d end up a loser if I chose to study rocking or English. Heartbroken, I gave up music (and English as a first language). These days, I still occasionally pick up the guitar, play my C/G/E chords to assure myself that I still have chops, and then I’ll put it back in the case and shove it back under the bed. I keep telling myself that when I retire from blogging, I’m going to go on tour of all the Starbucks in the area to recapture some of my former glory. So if you see a white guy at your local Starbucks singing “Afternoon Delight” on a Friday night, it’s probably me. Please tip generously.
 

Prequel

Someone (probably my sister Pascale Brown-Montague) gave me the book “The God of Rock” as a gift for my twelfth birthday. It was an encyclopedia of the anti-Christian tendencies of rock music acts. Here’s just a bit of what I learned:

• “Beware of anything that has to do with Led Zeppelin.” - this is an actual quote.
• Freddy Mercury of Queen was gay. I wasn’t sure what “gay” meant, but I assumed it must be bad.
• K.I.S.S. was an acronym for “Kids In Service to Satan.” I thought it meant “Knights in Satan’s Service.” Regardless, I was scared!
• The Eagles’ song “Life in the Fast Lane” is an expression of the utter folly and total despair of the rock music scene. Anton Lavey, high priest of the Church of Satan, appears on the cover of their album “Hotel California.”

After reading this book, I decided to burn all my records - the “Killing Me Softly” 45 by Roberta Flack, the “De Do Do Do” 45 single by The Police, and my Paul Stanley 8-track. However, I kept the “Greatest American Hero” single (too uplifting to burn). Before lighting the bonfire, I almost put my eye out when a fragment of the “De Do Do Do” single hit me in the eye as I broke it in half. After lighting the bonfire, I almost passed out and fell into it due to the sickening smoke from the burning records. However, almost losing my eye and breathing the fumes of Satan were worth it - I had removed all symbols of evil in my life. Eventually, that evil would return…
 

Are You Experienced?

Have you ever had your dreams crushed, particularly at a young age? If so, I’d love to hear about it. Please leave a comment sharing your experiences, and feel free to name those responsible for such heinous discouragement. Together, we can make a difference.

Post from: Brad Brown

A History of Rock Music

The Prize

The Contest

To enter the contest, leave a comment here describing what you think Megan is pondering. The winner will be picked by random drawing at a random time on Sunday, October 26th, 2008. I will ship anywhere in the universe, as long as the shipping cost is under $25.00 USD [assuming the dollar still has value by the time you read this]. If you need any clarification on the rules, email me.
 

Sample Musings

In case you’re asking yourself what to write, here are some samples:

• “I knew I should have chosen Charlie Sheen as my running mate!”
• “I could have sworn the box read ’suppository’.”
• “I don’t look anything like Angelina Jolie, except maybe for the horns.”
• “If he calls me ‘my friend’ one more time, I’m going to eat him.”
• “God, I hope they don’t realize I’m not wearing pants.”

Frequently Asked Questions

1. You said this gargoyle had changed your life. How?
    
   No. You’re confusing the gargoyle with the “Big Sexy Uncle” hat. That hat is currently on a sailboat headed to Disney animator Marv in Australia (seriously).

 

2. How much is this gargoyle worth?
    
   My gargoyle pricing guide says between three and four dollars.

 

3. What else are you giving away in the future?
    
   A diamond ring, a UPS package car, Danish sugar cookies - these are just three of the many items you’ll see in the upcoming months. So come back every eight hours or so to see what I’m giving away next. If I’m not giving it away, you can always buy it at Amazon.

Post from: Brad Brown

Musing Megan Fox Gargoyle Giveaway

It’s a good thing I don’t drink heavily, because if I did, I’d want a drink right now because of the sagging economy, but I wouldn’t be able to afford it. DOH! I was lucky to find a new job before my former employer (a software development company) started slowly sinking. Now I’m stuffing envelopes at home and making thousands per day. I realize that my readers might not be so lucky, so I’ve consulted with the best minds in the business (Rachael Ray, Clark Howard, Kendra Wilkinson) to create a list of money-saving tips that will enable you to conserve money come recession, depression, or Armageddon (Αρμαγεδδων). Enjoy!
 

Victuals Out of Nowhere

• Ketchup Soup

  Walk into your favorite fast food restaurant, grab a handful of ketchup, salt, and pepper packets, and run like the dickens. When you arrive home, mix four ketchup packets per cup of water in a soup pan. Add salt and pepper to taste. Bring to a boil, and then remove from heat. Serve with stolen crackers for an added treat!
   

• Sawdust Chips

  Most view sawdust as an unfortunate byproduct of the construction process, but I find that it can be a great between-meal snack. Walk through your favorite abandoned subdivision and collect as many buckets of sawdust as your Vespa can carry. Avoid sawdust mixed with powdered concrete - it’ll only give you gas. Assuming you’re able to make it home without being hit by a Humvee, mix two cups of sawdust with one cup water. Add stolen salt and pepper to taste. When finished, you should have something that resembles the consistency of moist flour. Flatten this mixture into a pie pan and bake at 400 degrees until firm. Crack into bite size bits for a treat so unique, you’ll wish you had tried it sooner.
   

• Dog Food

  Twenty years ago, I was sitting in quantum physics, when Dr. WhatsHisName walked into the auditorium with a can of Alpo and a can opener. He had told us in a previous lecture that dog food was safe for human consumption and that he’d prove it to us in the next lecture. He popped open the can and ate a spoonful, then invited others down for a taste. Two or three students partook of the offering. I was not one of them. However, over time, I’ve come to love dog food. It’s filling, and you can eat it right out of the can. Sure, you might ingest a little melamine once in a while, but that’s a small price to pay for deliciousness.
   

Xmas/Kwanzaa/Hanukkah Gifts

Cult membership doesn’t have to be expensive. Here’s how you can save on gifts during the upcoming holidays.

• Corn Husk Dolls

  In elementary school, we took a field trip to a historic town called Westville (”Where it’s always 1865 and sad.”). The highlight of the trip was learning how to make corn husk dolls. The only materials you need are several corn husks and some string. Tie a string tightly around the top of one of the husks; everything above the string is the head. Feel free to draw a face if you’re feeling artistic. Tie another string tightly around the bottom of the husk; the legs are everything below the string. Add realism by drawing a crotch and some shoes. Give the finished product to your child and watch his face light up with glee!
   

• Counterfeit Products

  If you insist on spending money, I recommend nothing but the semi-best: counterfeit products. The best way to find counterfeit stuff is to go to flea markets. Look for the seediest person you can find, and ask them, “Do you know where I can find an ‘inexpensive’ Rolex?” It’s important to emphasize the word “inexpensive,” as well as to follow up with a wink. Within minutes, you’ll be ensconced in faux heaven, surrounded by Naugahyde Gucci handbags and gold-colored Rollexx ™ watches. Given the dumbing down of America’s educational system by the Illuminati, your relatives won’t know the difference between fake and real brands, and they’ll be so surprised you put in the extra effort to give them a name-brand gift. Remember, sincerity doesn’t have to cost a lot.
   

Variegation

• Moonshine in One Paragraph

  Smash some corn kernels into tiny bits; I find that a brick against a concrete driveway works best. Pour the corn into a bucket and add enough water to just cover the corn. Add one packet of yeast per quart of water used. Put the bucket somewhere safe. Check it once a day. Once it smells nice and fermented, pour some of the mash mixture into a jelly jar. Knock a hole in the jelly jar cap with a nail, then run copper tubing from that jelly jar to a another jelly jar. Boil the jar containing the mash mixture in a pan of water, while keeping the other jar in a pot of ice water. Within minutes, moonshine will start condensing in the empty jar. You’ll produce about one tablespoon per quart of mash. It might not be enough to sell to the public, but it’ll be enough to ease your pain.
   

• Photos of Women in Bikinis

Nothing brings joy to the face of a penniless man than the thought of scantily-clad women. Assuming you’ve had your cable TV turned off to save money, your only outlet for this may be browsing the Intrawebs® via your iPhone. Because you’ve been drinking heavily, you probably don’t have the ability to type, but you probably have just enough coordination to click. With this in mind, I’ve created the abnormally large links below. These links won’t take the place of a job, but you will find it makes the time pass faster while waiting for interviews.
 

Google Bikini Search

Flickr Bikini Search

MSN Bikini Search

 

I haven’t forgotten about the needs of the impecunious woman, or the penurious gay man:
 

Google Hunk Search

Flickr Hunk Search

MSN Hunk Search

 

¿Conclusión?

I hope you’ve enjoyed this timely list of money-saving tips. Be sure to come back in 2009 and 2010 for updated recession survival guides. You can bet your last money (literally), it’s gonna be a stone gas!

Post from: Brad Brown

2008 Recession Survival Guide

]]> http://BradBrown.com/?feed=rss2&p=99 http://BradBrown.com/?p=98 http://BradBrown.com/?p=98#comments Thu, 02 Oct 2008 22:41:11 +0000 Brad Brown http://BradBrown.com/?p=98 The McCain staffers have compiled a list of debating tips that will win the hearts and minds of all Americans.


Photo by Mykl Roventine

October 2nd is a very special day in American history. The vice presidential candidates will meet in a battle of intellectual titans. However, one candidate has the edge. How do I know? My secret operative in the McCain camp (thanks Joaquin!) emailed me a copy of the notes that Sarah Palin has been studying all week. The McCain staffers have compiled a list of tips that will win the hearts and minds of all Americans. If all else fails, there’s always cleavage.
 
1. Swiss Colony is not a country. If the moderator asks about the need for invading it, it’s a trick question.
 
2. The earth is 6000 years old. Evidence to the otherwise is just a Democratic scare tactic.
 
3. “I think it all stems back to the failed Clinton, Carter, and Johnson policies, Gwen” is a suitable answer for most of the questions.
 
4. American’s don’t like it when cuddly polar bears get shot with AK-47’s from military helicopters. If asked about your involvement, just say it was for a National Geographic special and that the bears were put to sleep so they could be checked for health problems.
 
5. Don’t refer to McCain as “Pappy” in front of the cameras. That is our little secret.
 
6. Chlamydia is not a person, but a sexually transmitted disease.
 
7. Alyssa Mastromonaco is an Obama staff member, not a sexually transmitted disease.
 
8. Hamas comes from Palestine. Hummus comes from chickpeas via 18th-century Damascus.
 
9. The phrase “As Ronald Reagan used to say…” can be used to begin most sentences.


Photo by Elaine Vigneault

10. When asked about your lack of world travel, point out that you’ve never missed an episode of “The Amazing Race.” Via this fine show, you’ve in theory seen the entire world.
 
11. Iraq is the country we’ve already invaded; Iran is the country we’re going to invade. If you can’t remember this and you get confused, just remember, “Back to Iraq, plan for Iran.”
 
12. If at any point you become flustered during the debate, it’s often helpful to think of George Bush, Laura Bush, and Dick Cheney with their clothes off (together, in the secret White House dungeon).
 
13. The bad guys are the ones who say Israel is a stinking corpse and should be wiped off the face of the earth. The good guys are Charlton Heston, Rush Limbo, and Kid Rock.
 
14. Blinking, winking, and smiling are great alternatives to substantive answers. Americans don’t care if you can’t answer every question. That’s what the lifeline is for.
 
15. It’s “African Foreign Policy,” not “A Freakin’ Foreign Policy.”
 
16. The Washington Post is a newspaper, not an American Indian totem dedicated to George Washington.
 
17. The Bush Doctrine is not a porn movie, no matter what the press may tell you.
 
18. If at any point you see Jesus in the audience, it’s just Jeff Daniels with a beard.

Post from: Brad Brown

Sarah Palin’s Debate Crib Sheet

]]> http://BradBrown.com/?feed=rss2&p=98 http://BradBrown.com/?p=97 http://BradBrown.com/?p=97#comments Sun, 28 Sep 2008 14:56:21 +0000 Brad Brown http://BradBrown.com/?p=97 Henry Paulson had made the acquaintance of a mouse, and had said so much to him about the great love he felt for Brad, that they decided to live together. [Usually, I try to be humorous, but I’m so irritated that the American Congress is giving away $700 billion to Wall Street, I thought I’d write about that. Humor to resume next Wednesday.]


Photo by Kai Hendry

A certain fat cat, Henry Paulson, had made the acquaintance of a taxpayer mouse (BradBrown.com), and had said so much to him about the great love and friendship he felt for Brad, that at length Brad agreed that they should live and keep house together. “But we must make a provision for winter, or else we shall suffer from hunger,” said Henry, “and you, little mouse, cannot venture everywhere, or you will be caught in a trap some day.” The good advice was followed, and a pot of fat was purchased at Costco, but they did not know where to put it. At length, after much consideration, Henry said, “I know no place where it will be better stored up than in Congress, for no one dares take anything away from there. We will set it beneath the Pelosi altar, and not touch it until we are really in need of it.”
 
So the pot was placed in safety, but it was not long before Henry had a great yearning for it, and said to Brad: “I want to tell you something, little Brad; my cousin Bernanke has brought a little son into the world, and has asked me to be godfather; the baby is white with brown spots, and I am to hold him over the fountain at the christening. Let me go out today, and you look after the house by yourself.” “Yes, yes,” answered Brad, “by all means go, and if you get anything very good to eat, think of me. I should like a drop of sweet red christening wine myself.” All this, however, was untrue; Henry had no cousin, and had not been asked to be godfather. He went straight to Congress, sneaked to the pot of fat, began to lick at it, and licked the top of the fat off. Then he took a walk upon the roofs of the town, looked for photo-ops, and then stretched himself in the sun, and licked his lips whenever he thought of the pot of fat, and not until it was evening did he return home.
 
“Well, here you are again,” said Brad, “no doubt you have had a merry day.” “All went off well,’ answered the cat. “What name did they give the child?” “Top off!” said Henry quite coolly. “Top off!” cried Brad, “That is a very odd and uncommon name, is it a usual one in your family?” “What does that matter,” said Henry, “It is no worse than Crumb-stealer, as your godchildren are called.”
 
Before long Henry was seized by another fit of yearning. He said to Brad, “You must do me a favor, and once more manage the house for a day alone. I am again asked to be godfather, and as the child has a white ring round its neck, I cannot refuse.” The good mouse consented, and the cat crept behind the town walls to Congress, and devoured half the pot of fat. “Nothing ever seems so good as what one keeps to oneself,” he wrote in his Facebook journal via his tiny cat Blackberry, and was quite satisfied with his day’s work. When he went home, Brad inquired, “…and what was the child christened?” “Half-done,” answered the cat. “Half-done! What are you saying? I never heard the name in my life, I’ll wager anything it is not in Google search!”
 
Henry’s mouth soon began to water for some more licking. “All good things go in threes,” said he, “I am asked to stand godfather again. The child is quite black, only it has white paws, but with that exception, it has not a single white hair on its whole body. This only happens once every four years; you will let me go, won’t you?” “Top-off! Half-done!” answered Brad, “They are such odd names, they make me very suspicious.” “You sit at home,” said Henry, “watching Judge Judy, and are filled with fancies, that’s because you do not go out in the daytime.”


Photo by Ella’s Dad

During Henry’s absence, Brad cleaned the house, and put it in order, while the greedy cat entirely emptied the pot of fat. “When everything is eaten up one has some peace,” he twittered to his friends, and well-filled and fat, he did not return home till night. Brad at once asked what name had been given to the third child. “It will not please you more than the others,” said the cat. “He is called All-gone.” “All-gone?” cried the mouse, “That is the most suspicious name of all! I have never seen it in print. All-gone, what can that mean?” and he shook his head, drank a thimble of Nyquil, and lay down to sleep.
 
From this time forth no one invited the cat to be godfather, but when the winter had come and there was no longer anything to be found outside, the mouse thought of their provision, and said, ‘Come, Henry, we will go to our pot of fat which we have stored up for ourselves - we shall enjoy that.” “Yes,” answered the cat, “you will enjoy it as much as you would enjoy sticking that dainty tongue of yours out of the window of the Hummer.” They set out on their way, but when they arrived, the pot of fat certainly was still in its place, but it was empty. “Mother F****r!” said Brad, “now I see what has happened, now it comes to light! You a true friend! You have devoured all when you were standing godfather. First top off, then half-done, then… “Will you hold your tongue,” yelled Henry, “one word more, and I will eat you too.” “All-gone” was already on the poor mouse’s lips; scarcely had he spoken it before Henry sprang on him, seized him, and swallowed him down. Verily, that is the way of America.
 
The End.
 
[Brad’s note: This is a modern adaptation of “Cat and Mouse in Partnership” by Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm (yes, loyal reader, I promise - the last Grimm tale for a while). If you enjoyed this, please call your state representatives and express your displeasure.]

Post from: Brad Brown

Paulson and Taxpayer in Partnership: Grimm 2.0

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