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