Sally Forth

Hey, remember The Fourth of July, 2003? We don't, but found this in our archives:

Fourth of July Fourthiness.

Independence is on the march, patriots.

& Recently . . .

Kurt Cobain's Ghost with an Invitation to a Fourth of July Picnic and Fireworks by Angela Genusa

"B.L.T.": A Review by Will Layman

Ten Tiny Poems by Brian Beatty

Angry Words from a Gnome Who to This Day Continues to Think the Human Genome Project Was Actually The Human Gnome Project by David Ng

Key Party, N.Y.C., Circa Always by William K. Burnette

A Day on the Phone with Mythological Norse Firewarrior, Bringer of Storms by Aaron Belz

Polish Fact

Temperate with cold, cloudy, moderately severe winters with frequent precipitation; mild summers with frequent showers and thundershowers.

Learn a Foreign Tongue!

Impari L'Italiano
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Good news for people who love bad news.

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Monday, June 9, 2003   |    Fiction

You’re Firing Me?

by Ray Stillman

Did you find the bottle of Stoli in my bottom-right desk drawer? Behind the hanging file folders? Because I would have locked it, but I lost the key.

Do the words “gross incompetence” mean anything at all to you people?

Is it because I’m running a Web site from my work computer? I’d have done it from home, honest, but those kiddie-porn pictures take up huge bandwidth and my shitty 56.6 modem is no match for your fancy T1.

Look, I know I have a lot of knickknacks on my desk, but the shrunken pygmy heads bring me luck. They were blessed by a Masai warrior, you know.

Is this because you didn’t get a Xeroxed copy of my ass, like everyone else in the office?

O.K., there’s a nickel bag in it for you if you keep me on.

Just because I invited some cheap Russian hookers here after hours? God, didn’t you guys ever see Night Shift? No? Not a Henry Winkler fan, huh?

Just for the record, everyone else thought it was hilarious that I used the three-hole punch that way.

I have the employee manual right here and I don’t see anything about unleashing a vicious wolverine on the receptionist being wrong.

Is it because I’m not black?

It was just a mannequin. I’d never do that to a real person!

O.K., I don’t care what the authorities say. Jodie Foster is stalking me.

‘Office casual?’ You don’t get more casual than a stolen Holiday Inn bathrobe!

I swear “” is a musical boy-band fan site.

Ray Stillman once killed a man with his bare hands, although he is not one to brag about such things. He is an aspiring screenwriter, an inspiring poet, and a perspiring photographer. Mr. Stillman is an ex-New Yorker who now lives in scenic, sunny, star-saturated Los Angeles, in an apartment building between a bowling alley and a tatoo parlor. He often finds it difficult to resist the urge to ink "Gutter balls" across the knuckles of his left hand. He has made sweet, sweet love with supermodel Heidi Klum many, many times but, again, is not one to brag.