I am Y.P.R.'s Boring Logo
The Journal of Literary Satire | Hastilly Written & Sloppilly Edited

RSD | RSS I | RSS II | Atøm | Spanish

Support Submit
From the Y.P.aRchives Fun, Fickle Fiction (for Free!) Fact, Opinion, Essay, & Review Spectacular Features, Calendrical Happenings, Media Gadflies Poetry & Lyric Advice, How To, & Self-Help Listicles Semi-Frequent Columns Letter from the Editors Disquieting Modern Trends Interviews Interviews with Interviewers One-Question Interviews The Book Club Media Gadflies Calendrical Happenings Roasts Correspondence (Letters To and Letters From) Letters from Y.P.R. Letters to Y.P.R. Birthday Cards to Celebrities Pop Stars in Hotel Rooms Shreek of the Week of the Day Polish Facts: An Antidote to the Polish Joke The Y.P.aRt Gallery Illustrious Illustration Photography Photomontage Graphic Design Logo Gallery What's Up with That? Fuit Salad Nick's Guff Vermont Girl The M_methicist Daily Garfield Digest New & Noteworthy Contributors' Notes Et Cetera, Et Cetera, Et Cetera The Y.P.aRchives
Commons License
This journal is licensed under a Creative Commons License and powered by Movable Typo 4.01.
Y.P.R. & Co.

Thursday, April 14, 2005

Excerpts from Dick Cheney's Duck-Hunting Journal

Vince LiCata

— Chest doesn’t hurt so much today. I think sleeping in the duck blind all day helped a lot. Also switching from vodka to beer.
— Had to give X the Heimlich maneuver after he fell asleep with his cigar in his mouth. The thing fell in and clogged his windpipe, with only the ash sticking out between his lips. Other than that got to sleep the whole day.
— I think I got fleas in my underwear.
— No ducks today.

— W called today to ask me some questions. Sometimes in staff meetings I imagine that I’m one of the few people left on Earth whose brain has not been eaten by zombies and that I must come up with a strategy to save the planet. Usually this strategy involves a lot of decapitations. There’s a fine line between treason and patriotism when dealing with zombies.
— I really love sitting out here all day soaking my ass in two inches of warm swamp water and shooting stuff, but I wonder if I’m risking an anal infection?
— Hey, I’m getting paid right now!
— Got two today.

— Spilled hot coffee on my crotch in the blind today. Thought for sure I was going to have a stroke, but it was the best I’ve felt all week.
— Shot X’s dog when the gun went off by mistake while I had one hand in my pants trying to catch a flea.
— I keep wondering about the saying “fuck a duck.” I mean, I know it rhymes, I just don’t have a good understanding of its proper use in conversation.
— Today: one duck, one dog.

— X is still sore about his dog getting shot. He needs to grow up. Stuff just gets shot sometimes.
— Took some Viagra early this morning, then purposely poured coffee on my crotch in the duck blind. Oh my God! I wonder if I can patent something like this?
— Tomorrow we have that mind-numbing weekly staff meeting on Iraq, but today I’m still sitting here with a wet ass in God’s great wilderness, killing shit.
— Two more today. Fuck a duck!

Vince LiCata wants to know why you want his biographical information. He wants to know why you feel compelled to snoop around into his private life. Why can't you just enjoy his writing on its own grounds? He doesn't want to seem paranoid, but he does want you to stop following him around, and to quit going through his garbage. Vince would like to admonish your intrusive, meddlesome noseyness even more, but he has to go check that he locked the front door. Yes, yes, he very well knows that he just checked it five minutes ago! Are you trying to annoy him?