What Global Warming Means to Me, by Mike Drucker Age 7

I saw this article and decided to write my own scholarship essay on why Global Warming isn't real.

And then I thought, instead of being sarcastic, I would have more fun writing it from the perspective of myself at 7 who probably believed global warming wasn't real, but ghosts were. Good times.

---

For many years, bad scientists have said that global warming is making the whole globe warmer. They say it is because of cars and aerosol spray that ice is melting. I think they are wrong. In the following paragraphs, I will explain why I think they are wrong.

First, ice has always melted. If you took ice from England in 1871, it would probably melt just as fast as ice today. Maybe slower because they did not have freezers back then and had to eat their ice-cream very quickly. Scientists say ice is melting faster because so many people have cars. But they are wrong because we can keep ice frozen even when it is not winter which is very new and did not happen a lot before in the past.

Secondly, if the planet is warming, there would be no more winters. This is a fact because winter is very cold. Last Christmas I got Donkey Kong Country for the Super Nintendo and it said it was from Santa. If there are no more winters, how was there a Christmas last year? If there is no winter, there is no Christmas. This does mean that because there was a Christmas, global warming is not real. This year I want a PlayStation.

Third, scientists say that if people drive the planet will get too hot. But people have been driving for years and years. My grandparents did not feel hot. If they did, they would not have complained. Maybe the planet is the same, but the scientists are spoiled and think they can get more air conditioning if they make cars feel bad.

In conclusion, global warming is not very real. Sometimes the planet is hot and sometimes it gets very cold. I think scientists should go to the beach. It might make them less hot and maybe they would hate cars less. Thank you.

Adopt a Joke - 11-28-07

I'm not only a bad comedian. I'm also a bad writer. Here is proof:

At my job, I always bring breakfast cereal in a Tupperware container. And I always forget to bring them home, so for the longest time at my desk I kept piling up Tupperware containers. And I know this sounds like an exaggeration, but eventually I had so many Tupperware containers on my desk I was able to build a fortress to protect my sadness.

I had a job interview a few months back that didn’t go well. He asked me where I saw myself in five years and I said, “Eating the flesh of the living.” I wasn’t hired because apparently, NBC wasn’t looking for an employee who believed in the zombie apocalypse.

You know how in December all the kids suddenly start behaving because they’re afraid that Santa won’t bring them any gifts? That’s how I think old people feel about God.

I left my old apartment because things got so bad with my roommate I had to leave a note on the fridge asking him to stop being so passive-aggressive.

I’m forming a Republican rock band. We call ourselves “Disapproval of the Rage Against the Machine.” We don’t have a vocalist because we don’t really like it when anyone stands out.

Everyone complains about Christmas, but I realized this year that Thanksgiving is the reason the rest of the world hates us. Because we’re a nation filled with obesity and overweight people – myself included – but we have a dedicated holiday where we go, “This hamburger and fries combo is bullshit; I can’t wait until the day I get a big meal!” “America, can I have some?” “Oh, I’m sorry, we fed the scraps to the do-awg.” “Oh. Well, can I become an American?” “Noooo – we are full up. Wait. Are you a beautiful model?” “No, but I am a skilled engineer.” “Who cares? We’ve got enough people to run our trains.”

Have you ever been in love with a woman so much that you won’t take “no” for an answer? Then you are a rapist.

Every Christmas, the HESS company releases a toy truck. Collectors love it. And usually it’s a tanker or a 18-wheeler – something that relates to the HESS business of delivering oil and gas. But this year it’s a monster truck. Really? At this time with oil costing over 100 dollars a barrel? You don’t think it would’ve been more responsible to maybe make the toy a Hess bicycle. Or maybe a Hess hang glider? Or maybe a guy in a Hess shirt walking to work? But a monster truck? Why not just release a model of oil wells on fire? “This year’s HESS truck is an oil well on fire, because at Hess we hate gasoline so much – oooh!” And here’s the thing – it has two motorcycles on the back. So if the road becomes a little too rocky for your monster truck, you can fucking drive through the wilderness on your moped and step on an endangered deer because this is America and we’re not going to let a little thing like the end of the world stop our party. But it makes me smile. Because as the rest of the world faces a major gas crisis, HESS has the courage to stand up and say, “Yeah! Suck it, Mother Earth! You don’t tell me how to spend my Christmas!”

United Evil Bringers - Daily Warm-Up

Swamp Thing: Do not bring your evil into my swamp.
from: "Swamp Thing" (1990)
--

From The United Evil Bringers of America Handbook:

No union worker affiliated with the UEB – whether that worker has membership with UEB East or UEB West divisions – may bring, bury, dump, abandon, plant, implant, create, or manifest evil in non-designated regions. Doing so will result in a fine of up to five hundred dollars ($500), death, and/or investigation by a local UEB caseworker. Non-designated areas include any location whose entire width, height, and depth – to be decided by range of emanated goodness – is protected by a superhero, ghost child, mother’s love, and/or nightlight. Additional variables may both affect and in fact effect the condition of “non-designation” onto a previously designated region. In a situation which would fall under the category of “emergency” or if there is an incoming wave of evil which, including the UEB worker’s previous load, would constitute a “corruption,” the worker should immediately consult his UEB supervisor before bringing evil to a non-designated area. If the UEB worker fails to do so, the previously stated penalties still apply regardless of emergency or corruption status. Please feel free to contact your UEB supervisor or local foreman if clarification is necessary.

First Black 20 Christmas Piece

Here's my newest piece for Black 20.

It's about Will Vinton's Claymation Christmas Celebration.

Daily Warm-Up - A Ghost Story

Lisa: I hear you bought yourself a haunted house.
John Baxter: I just bought the house, not the ghost.

from: Amityville 3-D (1983)

---

ACT 1

Bob: This is an abandoned house.

Betty: I am taking my shirt off because I also believe it is abandoned.

Bob: This painting of the house’s last resident is meaningless to me. I am spray painting over it despite the cold breeze and instinctive hesitation.

Betty: Let’s have sex. It is what teenagers like us do.

Bob: That is something we can both agree on.

ACT 2

Bob: Boy, sex is fun.

Betty: You’re a cocksucker and I’ll see you in hell.

Bob: Betty is acting highly unusual. She is also floating.

Betty: Eat shit you cunt.

Bob: My fears are confirmed: a ghost has possessed Betty.

ACT 3

Betty: Where are you? I’ll tear your dick off and suck out your soul.

Bob: That is not something I want!

Betty: I’ll fucking kill you.

Bob: But I am killing you first with the same sword that killed the owner of the ghost who is possessing you!

Betty: Bob!

Bob: You are back to normal.

Betty: I am also bleeding and dying.

Bob: This is regrettable.

Betty: I love you.

Bob: I also love you.

Betty: Death.

Bob: I feel sad. It is a good idea to walk out of this house.

EPILOGUE

Bob: I will never have sex in an abandoned house again.

Police Officer: Your story is quite unbelievable. I am taking you to jail.

Daily Warm-Up - Snow White

Kate: What're they doing?
Billy Peltzer: They're watching Snow White. And they love it.

- Gremlins (1984)
----

The dwarves stared at Snow White and looked at each other. Oh, man. Oh, no, oh man. This was bad. This was real bad. One minute she’s singing with birds, the next she’s out. Choked on an apple or something. Grumpy lead the pack, grabbing a shovel. C’mon, you idiots. What if some prince comes around here hunting or something? She’s royal, you jerks. They find us with her dead body, they kill us. And what then, buddies? That mountain ain’t mining itself. You want the filthy goblins to get all the gems? I know I don’t. They got their spades and shovels – Dopey grabbed a pickaxe because, you know Dopey – and they got to work. Whistling away, they buried the girl as deep as they could, making sure to pack the ground and lay new sod so know one would know the ground was disturbed.

First Black 20 Article

Hey, folks. I was commissioned to write a few pieces for Black 20.com.

Here's the first: Manly Phrases You Should Say Before You Die.

I hope you enjoy it.

Feel Good - "Still Alive" - Live

Here's the musician who wrote the song singing "Still Alive," well, live.

Awesome.

Feel Good - "Still Alive"

I've been playing a lot of Portal recently - a sort of horror/comedy/puzzle game. However, when I was told that the end song was the best part of the game, I had to find it on YouTube.

As long as you know the story, the song is amazing.

Basically, game is about a computer running you through a series of challenges to test a new gun. The computer offers you cake as a prize if you win. However, when you finally get through the challenges, the computer tries to kill you and you must kill the computer.

And then this song plays over the credits. Yes, that's the computer singing.



Here are the lyrics.

Daily Warm-Up

Ray Joshua: And they start shooting at the children / one by one / two by two / three by three / four by four / five by five / six by six / But my spirit is growing seven by seven.
- Slam (1998)

-----

StarKey announced, after doing a summersault and juggling plastic flowers, now was the time for candy. Who wants candy? Yay! I’m sorry, I could not hear you very well over the sound of your lacking enthusiasm. Who wants candy? Yay! Alright, I guess since nobody wants any candy… We want candy! Oh, you do? Yay! Well, that’s just grand! Everyone line up. Line up. And now I’m going to give the birthday boy the candy gun right here. I don’t see what could possibly go wrong. Ready? Everyone ready? Oh! I can’t bear to watch, I better put a blindfold on… the birthday boy! Haha! You thought I was going to put the blindfold on myself, but instead I put it on him because I am such a trickster! Are you ready birthday boy? Are you ready non-birthday children whom I love? Great! And – fire!

Daily Warm-Up

[Mrs Ryan takes a cake to her imprisoned son. The guard destroys it while checking it]
Mrs. Ryan: Oh, look what you are doing, ruining my cake. It isn't for you anyway.
Prison Guard: Sometimes people put guns in cakes.
Mrs. Ryan: How stupid! Who could eat a cake with a gun in it!

from: Railroaded! (1947)

-------------

After another birthday visiting her son, Mrs. Ryan felt the need to freshen up. Maybe a little lipstick. Maybe a little rouge. Look something nice for a change, maybe. Fingers roving around her purse for her prettying business, she felt the cold cylinders of bullets. Ah, fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck! She looked behind her. Maybe if I… No. Damnit. Always. Always something. She paced in front of the prison. C’mon, girl, think. She looked at the walls and briefly thought about throwing the bullets over the wall and signaling her boy with compact’s mirror. But, no. That was stupid and the Ryans were so goddamn smart. How in the hell do you give your boy a gun and no bullets? What, are you giving him a conversation piece? Okay. Okay. Calm down, girl. Maybe if she went into the prison again, talked something sweet to the guard and said she needed to see her boy for one more thing. Maybe grind the guard a little, give him the thrill of the afternoon. She looked in her mirror again, pulling on the skin beneath her eyes and under her chin. Maybe no.

Parties and After

I think whenever I'm celebrating an event, I need to apologize right up front to most folks and then do what I do. Like, "I'm sorry, but I'm going to sit in a corner and sulk for two and a half hours." Then when I do that, no one is surprised.

Daily Warm-Up

Léon: The rifle is the first weapon you learn how to use, because it lets you keep your distance from the client. The closer you get to being a pro, the closer you can get to the client. The knife, for example, is the last thing you learn.
- Léon (1994)

Well, how about that? It looks like Mr. Hartstein thinks he's a professional already. Okay, Mr. Hartstein, can you tell me the 97 ways to kill a man with the blade of a knife? Okay. That's twelve. Alright, you're at 57. That’s 95. Okay. No, killing a man with the handle of a knife doesn’t count. That’s under bludgeoning, and you know that. I'm still only hearing 95. 95 once. 95 twice. 95, wrong, wrong, wrong. Number 96, slice a man with so many small incisions that he overdoses on Neosporin trying to cure the wounds. Number 97, slice the word’s "Don't Operate On Me" into the man’s back in a Kafkaesque-manner so someday in the future, when he’s very, very ill, a doctor will see that and go, "Oh, sir, I get it. Not me. No-no." And your victim will subsequently die from the burst appendix or whatever might be the problem. You fools. Let's go over the chart again.

Monday Spam Sex Advice Blog

Happy Monday! Right? Right? Am I right? Am I? I don't know! Why won't anyone answer me? Oh God!

Telly Briscar writes,

"why not stand out from the crowd and enlarge your p*enis"

You're throwing a curve ball, here, Telly. Because, when it gets down to it, isn't the corporate media responsible for making men feel as if they need a large penis and women large breasts? But the corporate media doesn't want you to stand out from the crowd. Because that means that only one person is giving in to their consumer-based model of life. And by golly, if that were true, the others would see that man with a larger penis and go, "Hey! He's got a larger penis! And while he may be more easily identifiable in a crowd because of his engorged member, he's still in a crowd with us. He's not getting mad tang. And neither are we! We don't need you, corporate America! We'll not get laid with or without you!"

And that's when the riots begin. Is that what you want, Telly Briscar? The burden of the collapse of Western society? Your name spit on for generations because you dared challenge the phallic status quo? No. I don't think you do.

Marylou hgfhhhgf writes,

"Did you know that it's possible to enlarge your penis at home"

And at work, too. Rawr.

Addie Staton writes,

"ladies just aren't satisfied with little guys dicks anymore"

Addie, yes, that may be true. But here's the thing - it's an optical illusion. Men who are over six feet tall have the same average penis size as men who are under four feet tall. You just think that his big, strong, comfortable arms equate to a greater libido and correlating "equipment." But that's not true. While shorter men may be hairy, gnome-like caricatures of what humanity was meant to be, that doesn't mean they're any less feisty in the bedroom. In fact: more so.

Sandy Bunches writes,

"Hello, friend!

I have found a miracle cure for small dicks. Take this pill and all your romances are better. What reasons do you have to not give her a MegaDik?"

Actually, a lot, Sandy. Remember that episode of "Tales from the Crypt," where the two guys are playing poker and they keep sacrificing body parts so they could keep competing with each other and eventually they're both left with nothing but a few fingers and their legs and shit are all chopped off? That's what upgrading your penis is like. It's an arms war. And the end result is the mutual destruction of both parties.



Well, that's it for today. It's been a relatively somber episode of Monday's Spam Sex Advice Blog. And for that, I apologize. Regardless, keep the letters coming, bots!

Daily Warm-Up

Lord Rayden: The essence of Mortal Kombat is not about death, but life. Mortal men and women protecting your own world…
- Mortal Kombat (1995)


Hi, everyone. The good news is that the local governments have agreed to our demands – all the money we want and our choice of the women. I know. I know. The bad news is that, apparently, we've veiled our threats under the guise of demanding they pay for "protection." Now, I've gone over this with a fine-toothed comb, folks, and it appears we made a pretty binding verbal contract with them. They’re paying us, we protect them. So that means no raping, no pillaging, and certainly no not protecting. Unfortunately that means we have to stop all the non-union gangs from all their spray painting and gallivanting about and whatnot. We've got to do all that Tom Joad shit. Nor did we state a time-frame for protection, so we’re quite stuck with this deal until we figure out a decent way out of this pickle. I’m sorry, but them's the breaks.

Good news about the women though, right?

Daily Warm-Up

Stannie Dum: I've got a Christmas present for you.
Barnaby: A Christmas gift in the middle of July?
Stannie Dum: Well we always do our Christmas shopping early.
- Babes in Toyland (1934)


It was madness! Madness! The assistant manager was already dead with a pink cell phone burrowed into his forehead. Two clerks had broken legs from when they dared stand in front of the display. One cashier no longer had a left hand – more a gnarled mass of ground meat that sloshed plastic bags open. Where was God now? How could He let this happen? How could He let them create the perfect toy with seven different adorable phrases and eyes that blinked – just like a real baby's did! Were they fools at the toy company? Were they so arrogant as to believe their crime could have no consequences? They were the first to die – an "accident," claimed the toy company’s parent corporation. But the Keds used to beat them to death said something far more ominous: mothers. Only a lone manager was left unscathed in this store, encased in a plastic playhouse, defending himself with a metal baseball bat, knowing that the end would come soon. If only he didn't have to see the look in his wife’s eyes as she searched for that perfect gift.

Daily Warm-Up

“I try to think of myself playing Elaine Stritch. That helps.”
- Elaine Stritch: At Liberty (2002) (TV)

The replacement me pulled out a bouquet of roses from his jacket. My children – well, I guess now that I was no longer me and he was me, his children – clapped and asked for more. He could do magic tricks? He could do tricks, my wife said. She giggled at her double entendre. I asked what that meant, sternly, although without much authority. Oh, you know. This, that, and whooo! She giggled again. I looked down at my finger nails. Oh, don’t be such a spoilsport, she said. You knew this was a temporary assignment. Yeah, but I’ve gotten rather attached to being me. I can hardly remember who I was before I was me, actually. All in good time, she said. She picked the keys up from the table and gestured towards the door. Where are you flying to, anyway? I checked the new assignment. Alaska, I guess. Alaska? Wow! See? What fun! You’ll have so much fun as someone else! Now, let’s get you to the airport before you’re late. As we left she kissed the replacement me and delightedly screamed, “Wheee!”

Feel Good - 11/7/07

This is the most fuckingest awesomest commercial I've ever seen.

Daily Warm-Up

I'm trying something a little new, which may or may not survive this blog's natural selection process. I'm going to try to write a little piece or some jokes off a random movie quote. Just to get my brain started in the morning.


“Man is born crying. When he has cried enough, he dies.”
-Ran


Today’s shoot was to be what Tom called a “raise-down” episode.

Tom’s wife, played by an actress who wouldn’t fuck him with a ten-foot pole – not that he had asked, but the assumption was pretty well founded by her consistent telling production assistants and interns that she wouldn’t fuck him with a ten-foot pole – would get a raise. And because his smart, sexy wife would get a raise, Tom’s character Tom would become jealous and depressed and create a crazy scheme to get him more money. Then in Act III the raise would disappear because Tom’s wife was spending so much time in the hospital with him after his wacky plumbing mishap. Tom would wear about fifteen pounds of plaster casting around his arms and legs – one of which would hang in a sling which the actress playing his wife would lovingly lean on and he would have to yelp in playful pain.

And the audience would laugh and they would clap and the sound editor would ask if that seemed alright. The producers would say, yeah, it was great, the greatest. They would say that the sound guy – who was also named Tom, isn’t that funny? – is the best in the business.

And the writers would secretly commiserate that this was the worst thing they had ever done. And then those same writers would go to bars and pick up women, proudly proclaiming that they worked on “Dad Plus Five.”

And Tom would stick around the set long after people had gone home to their real families. He’d walk up and down the stairs, trying to imprint on himself that this was an actual thing. And when some guard came by to check out all the stomping, he would joke and talk and ask about their picks for the company pool. They would leave him alone, telling him he should go home to his family.

And when Tom would go home to his family, they would be happier than anything to see him. Because he was successful and people talked about him and gave him shining awards for being so clever and funny out there in people’s homes. His family was genuinely proud of him.

And Tom would go online and read reviews of the show when it aired weeks later and he would cringe when people took him to task for his plots. Really, they’d ask, his wife has a crazy day at work? Where have we seen that before?

And Tom would open a word processor and try to create a really great script, something smart and clever. And he would close his laptop halfway through the first page, mostly in pragmatic adherence to the enterprise which had given his children six wonderful Christmases.

And he would sleep soundly in his big, comfortable bed.

At least, Tom thought that’s probably what would happen. This was a “raise-down” episode and those days tended to be kind of a bummer.

New McSweeneys Piece

Hey! My new McSweeneys Piece is up! It's on the front page!

If you're reading this after today, it should also be here.

Monday Spam Sex Advice Column - First Lady Edition

There's a reason Americans lovingly call these women the "first ladies": they know how to fuck, son. And they've got advice for you, the readers who e-mail me.

Keep Erection Writes,

Resulted by both physical and physiological factors, erectile dysfunction is no
longer associated with aged men. Young men are also not far from its upshots.

Lady Bird Johnson Replies: "It's odd that you can get so anesthetized by your own pain or your own problem that you don't quite fully share the hell of someone close to you."

Fast Fact: Lady Bird Johnson doubts your commitment to Sparkle Motion.

Esther Mango Writes,

am i pleasing her enough or is her dry? will a bigger penis make her happy?

Abigail Adams Replies: "If particular care and attention is not paid to the ladies, we are determined to foment a rebellion, and will not hold ourselves bound by any laws in which we have no voice, or representation."

Fast Fact: Abigail Adams has a passion for fashion.

John Shumejda Writes,

Dear Friend,

Is my wife being pleased by another man? Maybe it's because I'm so small. Wouldn't you like to know how many men use Viagra and where they get it?

Dolley Madison Replies: "It is one of my sources of happiness never to desire a knowledge of other people's business."

Fast Fact: Dolley Madison remains the only hot first lady.

Alim Brick Writes,

Of course size matters! I was married for 15 years to a man with a less than average size cock according to your data

Eleanor Roosevelt Replies: "You gain strength, courage, and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face. You are able to say to yourself, 'I lived through this horror. I can take the next thing that comes along.'"

Fast Fact: Franklin Roosevelt initially married Eleanor "as a joke" and stayed married to her "because he thought it was pretty funny, guys."

Thank you first ladies and thank you Russian spam bots!

Adopt a Joke Friday - 11/2/07

Sometimes skills can't pay all the bills. Only electricity and cable. These jokes couldn't even pay for my iTunes purchases for the month, which totaled about thirty dollars because I was trying some new music before, someone said it would be good for me, and I'm listening to them and they're okay, but I still like what I like so I try to keep listening to that, but it's hard for me to feel like I'm confined to one small musical circle, but then someone mentions a song and I've heard it before, but I just didn't know the name and then I'm all like, oh yeah, I remember that song from this one party I went to once and it was crazy and people were, like, smoking drugs and I didn't know what to do I was so confused and there was all this peer pressure, but I didn't give in because my uncle was a DARE cop and I'm all like not wanting to disappoint him so I just tried to act cool but I still felt like such a nerd and I think I realized that night that you sometimes have friends but sometimes they're not really your friends, at least, that's the message I think I should have taken from that night but it becomes hard to differentiate the message you're supposed to take and the message you do and since I'm an atheist anyway, I don't think I'm supposed to take anything away, I mean, at least, maybe, I doubt, I don't know, there's any actual message in anything, so I guess maybe my choices and the lessons I learned are more the projection of my own emotional reaction onto something which has happened, whether it be positive or negative.

How are you?

I bet the most difficult part of being a single parent is making the kid.

I guess I’m rebellious: I always did the opposite of what my father wanted me to do. Like, he wanted me to become a doctor. So I just know there’s a point when I’m gonna get cancer.

My friend speaks four languages and has a doctor's degree. But I had sex with his wife. Who’s smart now?

A man’s home is his castle. And with enough sheets, a man’s couch is his fort.

Wax museums are great because they let you get close to celebrities without them having to get close to commoners.

Suicidal comedian joke #9: Take my life – please!

I love stories with a twist ending. Or do I?

I don’t have a diary. Instead, I just look at old credit card statements to remind me of the times I’ve been depressed.

I’ve always been told that when giving someone criticism, you should sandwich it between compliments. For example, if someone showed you their poem, you would say, “I liked your use of imagery. This is all terrible, please kill yourself. I also liked your word choice.”

I'm sorry.

I'm Sorry, What? Oh, fuck you.

Recently, Jerry Seinfeld's wife has been accused of stealing some recipes for her cook book. It's a pretty serious allegation, all things considered, especially since these are supposed to be specialty-made-for-kids cooking instructions.

Seinfeld defended his wife on Letterman.

I'm sorry, what?

First of all, let me say that I like Seinfeld, I like his stand-up, I liked his television show, and Comedian is a movie I can watch once in a while when I feel up for a round of comedic masturbation.

But fuck you, man. Fuck you to be so smug about plagiarism. That's serious shit. Writers - I don't care if they're cooks, scientists, or novelists - spend a long fucking time working on their material. Yeah, I know she's your wife, but wow. Could you have been any more self-assured and smug about it? Wow. Calling her a potential assassin? Really? When your movie comes out and a critic doesn't like it, why not call him a rapist because, hey, that's analogous, right? Bad thing equals bad thing.

Oh, and hey. I know this sounds funny, but let me try this scenario on you.

Let's say you do a comedy special. Right? It's about an hour, hour and a half long. And it's good.

Five months later, I do a comedy special. And my special is about an hour, hour and a half long. And it's good. But, hey, here's the weird thing. I also have four or five jokes that are identical to yours.

But, I mean, your special came out only five months before mine. And in geological time, that means they came out at basically the same time. Man. What an asshole you would be for asking if I had possibly borrowed some of your jokes.

I mean, jokes, recipes, what's the difference, right? There was a time when we used to call plagiarism on the theft of stories from novels. But nowadays, people are willing to call it on jokes about naming kids and what to do with cotton balls. I mean, have we lost our minds?

A One Sentence Story to Dazzle the Soul

"If you knew how to play Boggle like me, you’d be a pussy magnet too."