Yankee Pot Roast

First Lines of Rejected College Essays

"It has been my dream to attend your university since age five."

"Last year my father contributed $5,000 to your general endowment fund."

"I can fit my fist into my mouth."

"I’m easy."

"My therapist says I can have supervised visits with my family in two to three months."

"I am generally liked and well respected by my teachers and classmates."

"The judge says he might reduce my sentence to time served."

"Man, I got so high last night."

"Essays suck."

"My father is the dictator of a small African nation."

"If you don’t grant me admission I will kill myself."

"I deserve to get in."

"My father, my father’s father, and my father’s father’s father are alumna of your distinguished institution."

"I’m hot."

"I spent thousands of dollars on private test preparation and college counseling."

"I love your school colors."

"Your football team rocks."

"I love to learn and stuff."

"I hand-delivered my college application."

"My last name rhymes with Bush."

"Last summer, at band camp."

"I visited your campus—twice."

"I’m always the first to raise my hand."

"College campuses would be much safer places if students were allowed to carry guns."

"There I was, the only fat kid in gym."

"God wants me to go to your college."

"I’ve been a repeat contestant on American Idol."

"I already bought a hooded sweatshirt with your college’s name on it and told everyone I got in."

"When I’m not saving orphans in Nepal, I’m finding a cure for cancer."

"You know you’ll accept me because you need underachievers like me to feel good about yourself."

Dan Moreau has been published in McSweeney's Internet Tendency, William and Mary Review, and Red Cedar Review.

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Charlie (Brown) Bukowski: A Short Biography

HARLES BUKOWSKI, the “Poet Laureate of Skid Row” had humble beginnings. He was born Charles Brown, aka Charlie. His parents were somewhat cold and distant. They talked in odd muted trumpet-like voices that were unintelligible to almost everyone. As a young adult, in an effort to put his conflictual relationship with his parents behind him, he changed his last name to Bukowski.

The trajectory of Charlie Bukowski's life from being a melancholy pessimistic boy to alcoholic, whore-loving misanthrope can be said to start with his friendship with Bobby “Pigpen” Jones. Charlie first met Pigpen while lying flat on his back after a football “mishap.” Pigpen was a dirty, ostracized young boy. And while many may have seen Charlie’s other childhood friend, Linus Fitzgerald, as a great influence in his early life, it would be Pigpen that Charlie referred to in an interview when he stated: “He helped me get off my back that day with a dusty hand. And the grit of that dust was etched forever into my flesh.” Pigpen would come to represent an almost zenlike, careless disregard to anything wholesome and clean which Charlie came to emulate.

Clearly, though, one of the main themes in Charlie Bukowski’s life was his conflictual relationship with women. He was married several times. But once his writing career began to gain some traction, he took to one night stands and love affairs. Charlie detailed many of these trysts in his book Women: Always Leaving Me Flat on My Back. More than one biographer has drawn a rather clear line through all the females that Charlie took up with. That line begins with the Little Red-Haired Girl, an elusive femme fatale who plagued Charlie’s listless and insulated childhood. He drew up a near-obsessive focus on this young woman who “never once noticed even the single greasy strand of hair on my prematurely balding head.” This line ends with Pamela O’Brien (aka “Cupcakes” due to her buxom nature) a redheaded single mother. Charlie tried to recreate this fantasy woman in every relationship right up to Cupcakes. When Cupcakes painfully left him for Linus Fitzgerald, Charlie “swore off of f***** red heads for the rest of my life.”

Noted literature critic, Michael McCall, after culling through all sixty of Charlie’s published books, also notes the reoccurring theme of footballs (and especially their connection to devious women) in Charlie’s writing. Footballs show up through-out the poetry collections: Dangling in Midair Before Falling, Slouching Toward the End Zone and Pigskin Ballet. Maybe more so than the Little Red-Haired Girl did a girl named Lucy (thought to be a pseudonym) seem to affect Charlie’s life. The image of this girl, in particular, snatching away the infamous footballs (perhaps a metaphor for sobriety) reoccurs numerous times throughout his work. Lucy also showed up as a figure in the dreamlike short story “The Devil Is Lucy,” in which she tries to counsel a morose young boy in a pretend game of psychologist. Her final refrain: “You are a loser, Charlie Brown” could easily have been a summation of this man’s life. This theme, however, becomes most obvious in the epitaph on his tombstone. Below the phrase “Don’t Try” is the inscription, “Here I lie flat on my back, staring skyward, just as I did so many times when the football was taken away. I think I’ll just stay put now.”

"Puppies for Sale" Fliers That Really Work

New litter of 6 chocolate labs for sale. I love them dearly, but a single woman can't handle them all. They're good-natured, playful and beautiful beyond belief. Just come see them at 22 Larchmont Drive. Take a left after the Thai restaurant and go up the hill. Larchmont is the first right, and we're the fourth house on the left. I am a stripper.

* * *

Corgi puppies from award-winning breeders need a new home. Ever since we had dogs, we've never been burglarized and our kids haven't been bullied. We haven't had any major illnesses, haven't been slandered in the press, and have avoided car accidents, shark attacks, any major repercussions from colony collapse disorder. We've cheated on our taxes without being caught. My job is secure, though I fire people with impunity. All we eat are Funyuns and are in perfect health. The guy down the street bought a cat, and he broke his hip. I'm pretty sure he's a woman living inside a man's body, too. 1515 Patcong Ave, behind the Price Chopper.

* * *

Friendly, mixed-breed puppies for sale. 3 months old. In that time, the owner, an experienced trainer, has taught them each the following:

-- How to sit, stand, roll over and fetch.
-- Basic obedience techniques and the ability to speak on command.
-- Narcotics and bomb detection skills.
-- Wedding planning.

9 Queensland Blvd, next to the Chuck E. Cheese.

* * *

Irish setter puppies for sale. $5 each. Pick one up and show your love now, because one day in the not-too-distant future, dogs will rule the world and fish will walk among us. Even now, dogs and fish sit on most corporate boards and have a permanent seat on the U.N. Security Council. I have proof. Take a right on 82 and go to the vacant lot across from the diaper factory.

* * *

Beautiful pure-bred puppies for sale. Friendly, loving and opposed to cultural relativism. Puppies understand that identity and cross-cultural understanding are not oppositional forces, and are developing their own meta-language to overcome distortions and make valid connections across all breeds. They will soon be publishing extensively. $27 each. In front of the Hopewell Jct. Grand Union.

* * *

Super-cute puppies 4 sale! I am severely disabled and the puppies think I am food. Please come quickly.

* * *

For sale: puppy. You can't tell by this photo, but this puppy looks EXACTLY like Denzel Washington. Want to cut in line at BJ's? No problem, Denzel can make it happen. Need an extra towel at the Y? They'll give 3 to Denzel! And no more waiting in line at Chili's, ’cause Denzel don't wait for no nachos. 34 Nipmuck Drive.

* * *

4 puppies, a bottle of schnapps, me, and a cellphone. In the alley behind Club Eruptions.

Ken Saji is a writer living in New York City with his wife and two kids. He has an M.F.A. from Columbia University and has been published online at McSweeney's. He doesn't own pets because he feels their accomplishments will overshadow his.

Least Popular Facebook Quizzes

(And My Results)

1. Which TV Talk-Show Host Would You Blackmail?
(My result: Jay Leno.)

2. Which Celebrity’s Stalker Is Most Like You?
(My result: Mariah Carey’s stalker.)

3. Which Member of the 1937 Brooklyn Dodgers Are You?
(My result: Heinie Manush.)

4. Which Teenage Vampire Would You Support for U.S. Senator?
(My result: Bella from Twilight.)

5. How Well Do You Know Grover Cleveland?
(My result: not nearly well enough.)

6. Which Russian Mail-Order Bride Will You Marry?
(My result: Svetlana, blonde, 25, from Chukokta Autonomous Okrug.)

7. Which Terrorist Are You?
(My result: tie, Timothy McVeigh and Abu Ayyub al-Masri.)

8. Which Lying Rightwing Pundit Pushes Your Buttons the Most?
(My result: Ann Coulter.)

9. Which Mad Men Character Would Win Your Fantasy Football League?
(My result: Ken Cosgrove.)

10. Which Federal Prison Will You End Up In?
(My result: Leavenworth.)

11. If I Were a Carpenter, and You Were a Lady, Would You Marry Me Anyway?
(My result: Not likely.)

12. How Well Do You Know That Creepy Guy from Work?
(My result: You are that creepy guy from work.)

Ogden Nash for Pitchfork

Ted Leo and the Pharmacists: The Brutalist Bricks

Feeling sick on Bedford Street?
Try nerd guitar with a Williamsburg beat!

* * *

Radiohead: In Rainbows

What fans have waited forever and a day for
Only to find out you get what you pay for

* * *

Devendra Banhart: Smokey Rolls Down Thunder Canyon

Oh, Devendra
It seems like your record will neverendra
Multi-culti hipster sith-thy
I could go on and on but I'd rather be pithy

* * *

Rilo Kiley: Under The Blacklight

Rilo Kiley! Rilo Kiley!
(Hipster emoticon for Smiley)
Neither Blondie nor Fleetwood Mac tight
Bad news is they sold out with Blacklight

* * *

Kanye West: Graduation

Not too much Gold Digger–style enjoyment
Instead of Jamie Foxx there's Fall Out Boyment
After College Dropout and Late Registration--
He should have called this Unemployment

* * *

Kaiser Chiefs: Yours Truly, Angry Mob

Ruby's Number One in England, yes
But everyday I love you less and less

* * *

Yeah Yeah Yeahs: Is Is EP

Karen O, with the soul of lingerie
In screeching atmospheric rock boulangerie
They kind of sound like that band Belly
But honey, you're no Tanya Donnelly

* * *

Spoon: Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga

Hey, new Coldplay
Go away

* * *

Stephen Malkmus: Untitled 2008 Release

Silver Jews Pavement guy
Indie rock-cred master spy
All the critics really like you
But this new record better not suck, dude

Mick Stingley is a freelance writer who lives in New York City. He is featured in Rock and Roll Cage Match, available from Three Rivers/Random House. He is 40 years old and refuses to cut his hair ’cuz he’s so fuckin’ metal.

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Rejected Pitchfork Reviews

Shel Silverstein on Kanye West's The College Dropout

It turns out that Jay-Z’s producer
Is as cocky as a rooster
Dropping albums as an homage
To his dropping out of college
Rhymes are tight, Beats are brilliant
His career should be resilient
To the plagues of hip-hop fame
Like feuds with 50, or the Game
Or race-based presidential scolds
Or shutting down 19-year-olds.
I think he’ll play it safe; he sets his sights
On selling wax to whites.

* * *

Kurt Vonnegut on Sufjan Steven’s Illinois

Illinois is a state. It looks like this:

It is also an album by Sufjan Stevens. Sufjan Stevens is a singer and songwriter with a lot to say about Jesus. He told a bunch of people that he was going to make an album for each of the 50 states, which is a very silly thing to say. So far he has made two. This album uses a lot of bells and funny horns and sounds like winter. Listening to it is like sitting in church with mittens on. Mittens look like this:

* * *

Ernest Hemingway on Radiohead’s Kid A

I put the needle on and poured a drink and sat in the chair. The first song sounded mechanical. There was a keyboard and a voice but I wasn’t sure which was which and then there was another song that sounded like something you’d hear in a nursery and then a bass solo. The singer’s voice was high and the lyrics were about loneliness and the future. I turned the volume up and went to the window. It wasn’t rock and roll, but it was good.

* * *

William Shakespeare on Animal Collective’s Merriweather Post Pavilion

What boon is this?
Thy shim'ring cover doth contain
A wonderment of harmonies.
Why play guitar? Why drums?
Why verse or chorus?
'Tis deconstructed Instruments
That speak unto my educated ear.
Tightened pants and fauxhawk molded
Forth I go, beneath the speakers
Thank the stars this disc appeared
Their early stuff was way too weird

* * *

David Mamet on Death Cab for Cutie’s Transatlanticism

TWO MEN enter.

MAN 1
This album’s fucking great.

MAN 2
What?

MAN 1
I said it’s a fucking great album.

MAN 2
The guy’s voice sounds like a little kid.

MAN 1
What?

MAN 2
A fucking kid! But the lyrics are so ...

MAN 1
Fucking deep, right?

MAN 2
Fucking deep, exactly.

MAN 1
Great fucking album.

MAN 2
Fuck you.

* * *

Stephenie Meyer on Jay-Z's The Black Album

“I’m retiring,” the rapper said--in what seemed to be a sincere tone. We believed the silver-tongued-giant, but his lilting-voice hinted at something more, deeper--a rebirth. He wore a tight, black baseball hat low over his eyes and a loose-fitting, firmly pressed suit. Flows came easily to him, boasting with bravado and swagger. 99 problems were what he had. From darkness, there was to come a response: One word: “Holla,” warbled high and clear in the air that was the air of the nighttime.

Jamie King is a writer and comedian from Washington State, based in Brooklyn. Recently, his work has appeared online in Yankee Pot Roast, McSweeney's and Tire Swing Press, as well as onstage at the Upright Citizen's Brigade Theatre, New York. More essays, videos, and propaganda can be found at www.kingjamie.net.

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Pitchfork Reviews Albums That Don't Exist

A Good Thing Is Wonderful by Lowdermilk practically begs reviewers to grab either or both adjectives from the title, and, hell, if the band or the album existed, I’d give them “good,” “wonderful,” and maybe even throw in “holy shit.” Straight up: this album would be one of the more impressive débuts of 2010 if it was or ever had been created by a band that was at some point formed. “Truckish Delight,” the first single from the album, is a stunner of a pop song (one imagines), while “Obdurance” builds on a backbeat so subtly and smartly constructed that it could turn any jaded hater into a believer, if anyone ever got a chance to listen to it. Anyway, leave it to a band that never arose from the still-pretty-grungy aural atmosphere of Seattle to effortlessly blend the noise symphonies of Animal Collective with the disaffected guitar rock of a foregone era and come out with something that sounds real—even if it isn't. 8.3.

I Knew It Then as Purpose by 1605 would sound familiar. In fact, it would sound exactly like both of 1605’s previous efforts, neither of which existed either. But it’s also familiar in a more general sense: these would be the frantic, desperate noises of a band trying to grasp onto “what made us successful in the first place,” when all that made them successful in the first place was a lucky break and a semi-popular song (“Jacob”) that demonstrated an ability to mutilate power chords in a mildly entertaining way—had any of that ever happened. Anyway, despite what 1605 might want (if they were a real band made of actual people), don’t call this a comeback. They were never really here to begin with. 5.2.

LMNOP by Hangdog. L.A. rapper Hangdog might be hip-hop’s most unpredictable artist. From track to track and album to album, you never know if you’ll hear an impeccable lyricist at the top of his game or a shameless hack, squawking out another mediocre track about all his Benzes. LMNOP is further proof that you just can’t trust a man who can rhyme “Kilimanjaro” with itself and make it sound like a whole other word on one song (“Mt. Kilimanjaro”) and rap for nearly five minutes about “another turd in tha bowl” on another song (“Another Turd in Tha Bowl”). This album, like Hangdog’s entire career, is a long exercise in frustration. Of course, the most frustrating part is when you wake up and realize that you dreamed the whole thing when you fell asleep at your desk--and it wasn’t even that good of a dream. 6.1.

Belch by Kurt Cobain. After Cobain alterna-historically did not commit suicide and instead disbanded Nirvana in mid-1994 to try and “get away from all this shit,” he was lambasted by fans and critics and dubbed the “Yoko Ono of his own band,” according to no one. But when Cobain didn’t release Belch on February 14, 1996, he was suddenly just plain old Kurt again. This non-reissue of one of the greatest solo albums never to actually hit shelves or be an extant thing is a superb re-mastering of a theoretically masterful collection of songs. What’s even more surprising is that the never-before-heard songs left off the original (“Hey” and “Yardbird”) are just as powerful as the rest of the never-before-written-sung-or-played tracks. What an obscenely great album this would have been. Dammit. 9.5.

The Funniest Joke in the World by Plasmoid. Powerless pop. Thank God (if He existed) that this was never recorded. 2.6.

Lucas Klauss hails from Georgia and lives in Brooklyn. He reads books with names like Lacrosse Firestorm for a living. His work can be found at McSweeney’s Internet Tendency, The Apiary, and lucasklauss.blogspot.com.

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If Pitchfork.com Reviewed A Pitchfork

Radius Garden
Non-Sparking, Non-Magnetic Corrosion-Resistant Garden Fork with Fiberglass Handle

It was five years ago this month that Radius Garden announced plans for a non-magnetic corrosion-proof pitchfork with a fiberglass handle, and over the half decade that followed, rumors of infighting over prong length and quantity, coupled with the underwhelming reception of their ''Non-Sparking Spade with D-Grip'' left even the most faithful of R.G. fans wondering if they'd ever live see this day. Finally here, it's safe to say the wait has not been worth it.

I wanted to like this fork, I really did, and it does have its moments of real ingenuity. Worriers of just how many prongs and at what length can rest easy. Taking a cue from post–Whitley Handles Ames True Temper pitchforks, it features five prongs and staggers them at just the right extension to make both haystacks and compost equally manageable. It's also clear that Radius Garden did their corrosion-resistance homework, and left little chance of a rehash of the wear and tear concerns that plagued their 1998 release of the (allegedly) ''Corrosion-Resistant Rotary Tiller.'' But this is where the positives end.

If you're looking for faults, start with the handle. Sparks literally fly with such immediacy at the mere touch of the fiberglass handle that one wonders if Radius Garden thinks Coulomb's Law is nothing more than a prime-time network procedural drama. Also, it seems as though R.G. didn't fail to deliver on their promise of non-magnetism as much as they just plain forgot, which is the only explanation for a fork that in reality encompasses the magnetism of a young Hollywood starlet. While R.G. head Steven Turner did deliver on his (in)famous Nebraska State Fair announcement of a fork, ''more lightweight than a cloud on reefer'', he did so at the expense of sturdiness, to the point where it's fair to question when the last time the multimillionaire was even faced with the prospects of joining an angry torch-bearing mob.

Stripping away context and forgetting the five-year wait and brash proclamations, it is possible to conclude that this isn't nearly as bad as it seems. But context is as much a part of this pitchfork as its rubberized end grip. Whether it's unfair to or not, we expect more from Radius Garden, and should assume they expect more from themselves. Some have said this signals the end of not only Radius Garden, but of the pitchfork as a viable gardening mechanism altogether. Let's hope both prove to be untrue, but if Radius Garden has any plans of making that happen, they better not wait another five years.

Conor McKeon is a freelance writer and native son of Worcester, MA. He is both a college dropout and featured writer for CollegeHumor.com, and operates under the assumption that this is ironic somehow. He believes bulimics are anorexics who still want to contribute to the economy and the sun will burn out if it starts using drugs at an early age. Conor McKeon wants to know if you're planning on eating the rest of your sandwich.

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Popular 80s Songs About Zombies

(I Always Feel Like) Somebody's Eating Me
Sweet Brains (Are Made of These)
Your Wrist Is on My List
Gnaw on Eileen
Totally Bit Someone's Heart
Betty Gave Us Eyes
Maneater

Alexandra Salerno, Katharine Salerno and Alana Quirk are originally from Eastchester, N.Y. They collaborate to produce creative works on topics of great importance.

Five Underrated Songs

"Rocket 69" by Lee Harvey Oswald Band

In the realm where glam rock meets 70s punk meets 80s metal, Lee Harvey Oswald Band is not only King--they might be its only inhabitants. And it’s not because no one else wants to live there. I’d guess anyone who ventured close got shot by megalomania, burned by tomfoolery, and fucked to death by rock and roll. The hard-to-find album Blastronaut contains five of the best songs you’ve never heard and has been rated by other rock anthropologists as “the second best rock album of the Nineties.”

Commercial: –9
Critical: –6
Cultural: 4
Cache: 8

Total: –20
CCV: 2/2

UR: –20

So how is something this good so underrated? Because, again, no one’s fucking heard of it, save for rock nerds. The band never performed live, and released very little biographical information, most of which is as accurate as anything you’ll see on Fox News. The side project of a quiet genius for whom the word “cocksure” was invented, L.H.O.B. created gems like the insanely fun “Rocket 69” and then disappeared into the ether.

“The greatest trick the Devil ever pulled was convincing the world he didn't exist. And like that--poof. He's gone.”
--Keyser Soze on Lee Harvey Oswald Band

"Beat’s So Lonely" by Charlie Sexton
Charlie Sexton managed to record one of the Eighties' most popular rock songs by the age of sixteen. I was sixteen in the 80s, too. The biggest thing I accomplished by then was a world record 42^nd viewing of Teen Wolf.

By twenty, Sexton had toured or recorded with David Bowie, Iggy Pop, Bob Dylan, the Velvet Underground, and Keith Richards, among others. But his own albums, while critically well received, were lost in the wasteland of hair metal and technopop that had become the late Eighties.

Commercial: 2
Critical: 0
Cultural: –6
Cache: 1

Total: –5
CCV: 6/2

UR: –15

Peaking at #17 on the Billboard charts, “Beat’s So Lonely” surfed the same waters as Bruce Springsteen, but its weird feedbacky edge gave it a New Wave distinction that set Sexton apart from the heartland rockery of the Boss.

A recent (and bizarre) performance with Justin Timberlake on the Hope for Haiti Now album put Sexton back on the charts after 25 years (the second-longest gap between Hot 100 debuts in Billboard history). This gives me hope that my Teen Wolf watching record is ripe for a comeback.

"Love by Numbers" by Ash Wednesday

While you may not be familiar with Australian experimental keyboard nerd Ash Wednesday, you may have heard of some of the musicians he’s played with, like the Models, Nina Hagen or Einstürzende Neubauten. If none of that rings a bell, call up Professor Moog and go back to synthesizer school.

Commercial: –9
Critical: –9
Cultural: –9
Cache: 8

Total: –19
CCV: 1/1

UR: –19

In the meantime, make sure and track down a copy of his solo release, “Love By Numbers.” It’s playful, catchy and you’ll have no problem learning the lyrics. It’s counting. That’s it. It’s fucking counting. It starts at one and ends somewhere around a hundred and three and it never really goes anywhere else, which is kind of its genius. There’s sort of a chorus, but for the most part it’s bouncy keyboard pop with simple robotic counting. It makes no sense, and yet there’s nothing to understand. It’s hard to like and impossible not to love.

"Achoo" by Sparks

The U.S.A. never caught on to Sparks, despite a brief period of notoriety in the early 80s when “Angst in My Pants” and “Eaten by the Monster of Love” made it onto the Valley Girl soundtrack. Brothers Ron and Russell Mael had more of an indirect cultural impact, as influencers of better known bands like Depeche Mode and New Order. With the cleverest of lyrics, impossibly danceable melodies and album covers that belong in the Fuck Yes Museum of Art, the band has been making underrated music for four decades.

Commercial: –6
Critical: –2
Cultural: –6
Cache: 8

Total: –6
CCV: 6/2

UR: –18

It was hard to choose which Sparks song was the most underrated. It’s not Sophie’s Choice hard, but I probably spent more time weighing my options than Sophie did. I decided that “Achoo” doesn’t have the confidence of “This Town Ain’t Big Enough for the Both of Us” or the catchy alliteration of “Moustache”. But it ranks pretty high on my list, particularly because I like to change the words to “Hot Jew” when I sing along. And that’s pretty under-ratable in my book.

"Your Dump or Mine" by Evil Superstars

I’m not sure how successful Evil Superstars were in Belgium, but in the U.S.A. you are all like, “Who?” And let’s face facts: even the most popular Belgian recording superstar could still be pretty underrated, in general. Two songs, “Your Dump or Mine” and “Miss Your Disease”, from the 1996 album Love Is Okay make it to the top of my list, mostly because they’re the two sung in
English.

But when I say “English” let me be clear: the band’s front man, Mauro Pawlowski, either graduated from the worst foreign language school ever, or has purposefully crafted the world’s most beautifully odd metaphors. For example:

Commercial: –9
Critical: –9
Cultural: –10
Cache: 0

Total: –29
CCV: 1/1

UR: –29

“Excuse me but your pudding it tastes like penguin sweat … ” or “Stars, gnome puke and soap, Your zits kaleidoscope, Your drag racing divine. Tell me what we gonna eat, ah your dump or mine…”

This guy makes Björk look like Dave Matthews.

If you say Darci Ratliff is the funniest girl you know, she'll probably punch you in the dick. Because Darci is funnier than the boys you know, too. And she overreacts to misguided compliments with genitally-aimed violence. Founder and editor of online magazine Kittenpants, co-founder of Junkiness.com, producer for TV, stage and screen, former writer for the Comedy Central Insider, quoted in both Maxim and Jane: Darci can do it all, and does do it all (on or before the third date). Buy her book, If I Did It, or contact her at kittenpants@gmail.com.

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Bringing back the ol' Underrated on the most overlooked day of the week.

Download This

Kittenpants's Five Underrated Songs:
Lee Harvey Oswald Band: "Rocket 69"
Charlie Sexton: "Beat's So Lonely"
Ash Wednesday: "Love by Numbers"
Sparks: "Achoo"
Evil Superstars: "Your Dump or Mine"

Other downloads/candidates:
Lee Harvey Oswald Band: "The Greatest Man That Ever Walked the Face of the Earth"
Lee Harvey Oswald Band: "Surrender Earthlings"
Lee Harvey Oswald Band: "Panic in Hanoi"
Dusty Springfield: "Bits and Pieces"
Evil Superstars: "Miss Your Disease"
INXS: "We Are the Vegetables"

Wit of Winston

WHEN Winston Churchill won a seat in Parliament at the age of twenty-six, he grew a mustache to make himself look more distinguished. A woman approached him at a dinner party and said, “Winston, I approve of neither your politics nor your mustache.”

“Ooh,” replied Churchill, “Pretty smooth! How long you been sitting on that one, stupid?” His Parliament friends cackled. He went on to mimic, in a shrill voice, “I approve of neither your politics nor your mustache." The woman retreated in tears.

* * *

A FRIEND once asked Winston Churchill about a dinner party he had recently attended. Churchill said, “It would have been splendid … if the food and drink hadn’t been so terrible and if the maid would have had sex with me like I told her to!”

* * *

Winston Churchill once found himself in the home of his sharp-tongued political opponent, Lady Astor. Over coffee, she remarked, “Winston, if I were your wife, I’d put poison in your coffee.”

Churchill replied, “Nancy, if I were your husband, I would seriously shoot myself in the head with a gun.”

* * *

IN THE FALL of 1940, the first destroyers arrived from America and Winston Churchill went to inspect them with Roosevelt's top aide, Harry Hopkins.

Churchill looked the ships over and grumbled, "Cheap and nasty."

Hopkins was startled. "What was that?" he said.

Churchill added, "How I like my whores."

* * *

AFTER having a few drinks one night, Winston Churchill ran into Bessie Braddock in the House of Commons. She was very angry. “Winston,” she said. “You are drunk, and what’s more, you are disgustingly drunk.”

Churchill, surveying Bessie, replied, "And might I say, Mrs. Braddock, you’re the disgusting one: You’re ugly, you're a slut, and you don't even have any friends!” He lunged as if to strike her, but his friends interceded and restrained him.

* * *

DURING a visit to America, Winston Churchill was invited to a luncheon at which fried chicken was served. Returning for a second helping, he asked, "May I have some breast?"

"Mr. Churchill," the hostess said, "in this country we ask for white meat or dark meat."

Churchill apologized.

The following morning, the lady received a beautiful orchid from Churchill. The accompanying card read: "Boobs, boobs, boobs, boobs, boobs!"

* * *

LATE in life, Winston Churchill paid visit to the House of Commons and immediately the room buzzed with excitement. “They say he's potty,” murmured a member of Parliament.

Churchill beat the young upstart to death with his cane. He later said of the incident, "Sometimes the best quip is a rageful blow to the head."

Gabe Durham wonders if maybe these are funnier if you're familiar with the original anecdotes. But is he really responsible for your enormous historical lapses? I mean is one man to turn the tide of the failing American education system? Is that fair to him? To you? Gabe gives away free words and music at gatherroundchildren.com. It's not much but it's a start.

Liberals are Ruining the World of Warcraft

’m Glenn Beck, the voice of the Real Azeroth. Good to see you. Today, ladies and gentlemen, I want to talk about the Lich King.

This jerk is up in Northrend, sitting on his ice cube taunting us, and what have we done about it? Well, I’ll tell you what we did.

We went and committed millions of gold in deficit spending to something called the Argent Coliseum, which is the largest unnecessary public-works project since those bleeding-heart Night Elves used the opening of the Ahn’Qiraj gate as an excuse to raise taxes.

We should have done the Common Sense thing and applied our overwhelming military power to crush this tin-pot dictator. If we had done things properly, we could have wrapped up the job in Northrend months ago, and gone somewhere warm to celebrate. I tell you, these problems all have simple solutions until the liberals get in the way.

Let me tell you how your tax dollars are getting used up in Icecrown. This will drive you crazy.

First of all, there’s a Frost Wyrm up there called Chillmaw. All it does is fly around, but the incompetent liberal bureaucracy has decided this thing is priority number one. So they’ve put a bounty on Chillmaw; twenty-three gold and two Champion’s Seals to anyone who participates in slaying this alleged menace. Well, I’ve got news for you. It takes about three people to bring down a Frost Wyrm, and sometimes as many as five, so killing this thing costs us as much as a hundred and fifty gold. Your gold, ladies and gentlemen.

But the kicker? This creature has something like a ten-second respawn timer. So, before the so-called heroes even get back to the Tournament Grounds to collect their taxpayer-funded reward, Chillmaw is back again. How can the leadership justify this unconscionable waste? Don’t ask me, I’m just an average schlub, trying to make his way in the World of Warcraft.

Further, we’ve got standing bounties out for various minions of the Lich King. Some of these quests are for "Champions" and others are for "Valiants." But these so-called heroes have discovered a loophole; the ridiculous liberal rules of the Argent Tournament allow an adventurer to be a 'Champion' and a 'Valiant' at the same time!

So, one "hero" can collect a Champion’s assignment to kill fifteen Icecrown Scourge as well as a Valiant’s assignment to kill ten. That means, if he destroys a total of just fifteen Scourge he can collect both tax-funded rewards. And you’re paying for this, ladies and gentlemen. Each time you pay a repair bill. Each time you pay an auction fee. Each time you pay for a re-spec, you’re being robbed by these unscrupulous adventurers and their liberal enablers.

And people wonder how come we can’t afford to have separate Tier 9 models for each character class. Here is your reason, people. And I am pissed off about it.

All this waste, and I haven’t even started talking about the Coliseum itself, mind you. People say to me: “Glenn, at least the Coliseum is creating construction jobs and stimulating the economy.”

Well, I have news for you. The work and the pay for the construction of the Argent Coliseum is not going to hardworking, tax-paying Azerothians like you and me. It’s going to illegal Goblins. This is his how your government is putting your dearly-earned gold to work. I am seriously about to start crying here.

And the rumor around Icecrown is that these goblins are falsifying the records documenting their expenses for building materials and bribing the ‘adventurers’ to scavenge materials from the ruins of Ulduar. That’s right. Your leadership in Stormwind and the Kirin Tor is taxing you so they can pay foreign Goblins to do shoddy work and rob us blind.

But you get what you pay for, ladies and gentlemen. I wouldn’t be surprised if, when they try to use this Coliseum, the floor caves in or something.

Daniel Friedman is a graduate of the University of Maryland, and the N.Y.U. School of Law. He lives and works in New York City. He spends his spare time searching for Truth and, whenever he finds it, he usually figures out a few ways to improve it.

The Toyota Tirades

1998 Toyota Camry
First of all, I don’t want to totally blame the 1998 Toyota Camry for sucking. My parents bought it and they usually buy things that suck. "Caveat emptor" they say in my Latin class (which also sucks). Do you know who Heather Klee is, Toyota? She’s only the finest chick in my high school and a senior and how am I supposed to pick her up to play grab-ass behind the Denny’s when my parents won’t let me use your stupid car because I don’t have a license? So, I snuck out. What’s up! Problem is, the ’98 Camry is equipped with something called a “manual transmission.” WTF? I only made it a block before "The Old Shit Wagon" wheezed, ground to a screeching halt, death-rattled, and dropped a big chunk of metal onto the street and here I am with no date and I’m grounded. And what does that third pedal on the left do? I think you installed one too many. Maybe check on that, too. While you’re busy resolving these issues, I’ll be the asshole riding the bus with the rest of the assholes. Assholes.

So mad I could cut you,
Robbie P.
Nashville, TN

2008 Toyota Prius
Although I enjoy maintaining the moral high ground by driving this eco-friendly roadster, I am at a loss. Nowhere in, on, or near the Prius does there appear to be an Obama bumper sticker. Did you forget it? You didn’t forget the voice-activated navigation system. Or the steering wheel. Or anything else. Please rectify this problem post haste. And although I’ve made a small alteration just to get by, the Dukakis/Ferraro ’88 sticker looks somewhat dated.

Eric H.
Washington, D.C.

1984 Toyota Celica
Toyota, you should be ashamed of yourselves. Thanks to a tragic malfunction in the ’84 Celica’s timing belt, my husband is dead. No, it’s not a problem with connecting the crankshaft and the camshaft, and it has nothing do with the engine valves--I’m talking about experimental love. After removing the timing belt from the bowels of our vehicle, my husband Roger, myself, and the Korean prostitute dispatched ourselves to what we like to call “The Love Dungeon,” i.e., our shed. After Hyun Jung and I secured Roger, dressed in full Napoleonic regalia to an I-beam with the ultimately faulty timing belt, the miniature pony on which he sat spooked and darted off toward freedom, causing my soul mate to asphyxiate under less than erotic circumstances. Why not a safety release, Toyota? Also, when I put the timing belt back on, I think something went awry with the synchronization of the pistons. Every time I turn right, the car vibrates, Hyun Jung and I climax, and the radio plays the “Ding Dong Song” by Günther and the Sunshine Girls until I turn the car off and have a cigarette. My friend Terry said a similar thing happened to her husband, but they couldn’t afford a pony. Point is, it behooves you to look into this. For Roger's sake.

Heartbroken,
Mary S.
Austin, TX

2010 Toyota FJ Cruiser
Well, here I am all excited about the new Cruiser and what do I get? An unwieldy nuisance that hardly fulfills its role as an off-road juggernaut. Moreover, the high-mounted, double-wishbone front suspension you tout is no match for my ex-wife June and her husband Clint’s magnolia tree. You call this a utility vehicle? Where’s the utility in trying to ram that magnolia into the middle of their living room if contact at a mere 45 m.p.h. pushes the airbag into my face and the FJ Cruiser crumples into an awkward heap at the base of the tree? Is the utility in my having to ask the cuckolding Clint, the teetotaling, tan, and infuriatingly capable Dr. Clint, to reset my nose? I don’t think so. Is the utility in having June uncover the array of gentlemen’s pamphletry I’ve got stashed under my mattress in the rear cargo area? Or indeed that I am living in the FJ Cruiser and not with Winona Ryder in the Hollywood Hills, as I initially told her? I don’t think so.
The gross incompetence displayed by your workers in constructing this abortion of an “off-road” vehicle is dizzying. You’ve got ads with the Cruiser roaring around a rugged Martian surface, but it seems the old magnolia tree at 1673 Ivanhoe is a little too tough for the Cruiser (although I do applaud the rear intuitive parking assist function, which proved instrumental in crushing their tasteless yard gnomes).

Isaac P.
Miami, FL

P.S. On a quasi-related note, I should mention that the stock tires on the Lexus IS 300 are nearly impossible to slash. Infuriating, and again, embarrassing.

2000 Toyota Tacoma
There are seven cheeseburgers in my glove compartment and one sitting precariously atop the V6. Is this standard? I bought the Tacoma used, so I imagine someone else could have installed this option, but I’m trying to cover my bases here. You see, I love Jesus, but I drink a little.

Confused,
Sarah B.
Santa Fe, NM

Ways in Which Sarah Palin Will Spin Massive Amounts of Snow to Mock Global Warming

Dontcha know it got cold when God heard we were worried ’bout the weather gettin' warmer!
Hey, Washington insiders! How's all that climate-changey stuff workin' out for ya?
I know global warming ain't real, cos the writing on my hand hasn't melted yet. Take that, TelePrompTerer elitist scientists!
God hugs some of us closer, but will ya look what he's done to the liberal East Coast élites lately? Coooold shoulder!
Sweaters are retarded.

Now That You've Found My "Creepy" Twilight Shrine: A Few Points for Rebuttal

-- First off, remember what Dr. Geldman said about judgmental language? I put "creepy" in quotes because I feel that you could have expressed your surprise of my having hundreds of pictures of Robert Pattinson on the wall of the guest room/office in a far more neutral tone.

-- While I also feel it was inappropriate of me to have Photoshopped Robert Pattinson over your and the kids' faces in the pictures on my desk, I was hurt that you failed to notice the quality and detail of the vector mask that I employed. I mean, that is a professional job, and should be recognized as such.

-- I thought we agreed not to bring up the fact that for a brief period of time I made Robert Pattinson the beneficiary of my term life insurance policy. I grant you that it was strange to replace my wife with a Hollywood heartthrob who doesn't even know me (although my endless letters and eventual restraining order should ring a bell with him), but hindsight is 20/20, as they say.

-- I know we have gone round and round about this, but once again I don't see what is so "disturbing" (again, your words) about having pictures of young, skinny boys pretending to be vampires all over my office. How is it any different from your H.R. department motivational posters? Some people have posters of a solitary runner on a beach at dawn with the words "Perseverance" in bold at the bottom, and that's cool. I, however, opt for the July issue of Tiger Beat with a Robert Pattinson pull-out poster. Did you know that we are both Geminis?

-- And yes, thank you. I'm well aware that I'm 38 years old, but frankly, I don't see how that is relevant to the issue at hand. You know as well as I do that vampires are immortal and therefore don't age. They are not hung up on age differences, so neither am I. Perhaps this is something that you could get through that granite slab that passes for your head.

-- Yes, I like to strike that "granite slab" retort. I'm just frustrated that I have to constantly defend my banal side interest of liking hot, ripped male vampires. It's not like I vote Republican or watch sports on television or something. Different strokes for different folks, right?

-- And finally, this conversation about my vampire hobby would not be complete without the whole: "Are you sure that you aren't gay?" thing. Have we learned nothing from all those years of Will and Grace? Just because a man approaching 40 suddenly finds himself interested in the mysterious world of sullen man-boys who live for darkness and do a lot of crunches does not imply that his long-standing sexual orientation should be questioned.

-- Oh, by the way, I TiVo'd Grey's for us tonight.

When not driving his family around in a sweet-ass 2003 Mitsubishi Outlander or playing Xbox Live as "Death_Goth_666", Ryan Durham writes stuff at www.slagmag-theblog.blogspot.com. Lucrative job offers and general inquiries about your mom can be directed to ryanitos@gmail.com.