Category: essay


Hey kid,

Congratulations on your recent millions of dollars jackpot win! You’ll be relieved to know that I’m not writing in order to “get” anything from you, as I’m sure that by now you’ve had your bellyful of various sales-pitches, investment schemes and hard-luck stories. And let me tell you it really burns me up that people would try to take advantage of a good kid like you and your good-naturedness. So I’m writing to warn you not to trust anyone, unless they’re not asking for anything in the same way that I’m not asking for anything neither. And believe you me, I’d just love to take a good “swipe” at all those jerks who are like that and always looking for a handout from good folks like you and me for crying out loud! And what really rattles my cage is that I’ve heard my fair share of horror stories about those poor super-jackpot lottery winners who were tricked out of their winnings in no time flat by low-down, no-good,  blood-sucking parasites masquerading as human beings. And I would really hate to see that happen to such a smart, good-looking kid like you, or whatever. So if you like I’m offering, for absolutely no charge, to hold onto a million of your dollars for you (and please notice I specifically said “your dollars”, which proves I’m on the level) just in case you might befall some such misfortune so as to lose all of your money. Of course there would be some normal operating expenses incurred, but it would be well worth it for you to have the peace of mind of knowing you won’t end-up working at “Hamburger Emporium Yum” or some shit like that! Anyway, it’s just a thought so let me know because, honestly, I’m actually just a really nice normal good guy you can completely trust, extending my helping hand in your direction.

In sincerity,

Your Boniface Champion and Fellow Chum Me




The most alarming and fastest growing crime statistic of recent years has been that of space alien abductions. Abduction victims have reported being prodded and medically examined and, in a few extreme cases, forced to perform laser karaoke. What should you do if confronted by space aliens? First of all, never ever open your door for space aliens. It’s best to pretend that you’re not even home. If the space aliens persist you might try playing a Barry Manilow record. Scientists are not sure why, but this sometimes drives them away. But remember, space aliens have highly advanced scientific technology far superior to our own, so it’s a good idea to keep a baseball bat handy as well. Kids, don’t talk to space aliens, and never ever get into an alien spaceship, even if a space alien offers you some space candy. Remember kids, just say “no” to space aliens! And in the event that you ever actually do find yourself confronted face to face with space aliens, try to remain calm, act polite but distant and, for goodness sake, don’t make any annoying wisecracks about their over-sized heads and huge insect-like eyes!

As a final cautionary note, the following recently documented case of space alien abduction was recounted while under hypnotic trance by Mr. Gil Dibble of Mesa Plaisa, New Mexico who, in accordance with his own wishes, will remain unanimous:

“I was out walking my pet antelope, Penny Antie, in area 50, when I made a wrong turn and ended up in area 51. All of a suddenly some wiseguy in a spaceship comes flying out of the sky, and it scared me so bad I almost fell off my pogo stick! I yelled at him to slow down, but it was too late for that because all of a suddenly it was parked nearby, and I don’t know. Then these damn space aliens came over. I don’t think they had any insurance either, because the first thing they did was try to put me in some sort of trance. But I was too intelligence for that, and I only played along with them to see if they’d feed me. They took me to this shiny room in their spaceship, but when one of them got fresh with me I kicked him where the sun don’t shine! Then I hopped onto the back of Penny Antie, and we busted on out of there! We didn’t even stop until we got to area 39, twelve areas away, which is a lot! The hole experience seems like a dream to me now, but I know it really happened because later on I found “crap-circles” in my underpants. Damn space aliens!”


Take a second first of all and don’t be confused. The “real” story is that there is no “real” story so you might as well ask me what I think about nothing because I don’t think nothing about nothing because it’s all just fake. And what “they” really don’t want you to know is that the “real” story is that there’s nothing to know because there is no “real” story, which is logical because there’s nothing that’s going to change my mind about that because it’s all really fake, except for the part about nothing, which is really real. And you can believe that because it’s what I heard. And I’ve seen lots of “reality” shows in my time so I guess that pretty much makes me a “authority” on the subject, case closed, end of discussion, checkers mate.  And it really pisses me off but I’m not sure why so maybe that’s fake as well, which means I’ll have to check it out and make sure just in case I need to punch someone in the face. So please quit all those mean, horrible, hurtful lies or else because it makes me so disoriented and confused that sometimes I fall down and hurt myself with punitive damages, so thanks a lot Hillary Obama, if that really is your real name! And don’t try to tell me you don’t know what I’m talking about because nothing makes me angrier than that! It’s like the old saying our parents taught us: “If you can’t say anything nice, shut-up fuck face!” So just move along if you know what’s good for you, because there’s nothing to see here because there’s nothing to know because it’s really all fake so quit making a spectacle of yourself because there’s absolutely NO STORY HERE!!!




Today is Bad Hair Day, and so once again it’s time to remember the origins and history of this important holiday, and why we celebrate.

The year was 2513 and you might have guessed that by this time racism would be all but extinct, but unfortunately such was not the case. The “human race” seemed stuck with this terrible and ugly habit, like a stubborn teenager refusing to grow out of a particularly immature stage. And even though by that time everyone’s skin color was pretty much the same, people continued to look for ways to judge one another, mainly as a substitute for self-esteem. I guess it’s wired into our psychology. After all, it had been proven way back in the 21st century that people who can’t “see” beyond the surface of skin-color also can’t “see” below the surface of their own brain. So we shouldn’t be too surprised that the idiotic “tradition” of racism continued into the 26th century.

In 2513, however, the institution of racism was based not on skin color, but on the color and appearance of hair. Finer textures and lighter shades were preferred, with darker, frizzier hair looked down upon. “Blonde” hair was seen as a sign of royalty, although by this time it had little more than a sandy-brown hue. “Brunette”, which was actually just a slightly darker shade of the same brown color, was deemed inferior and to be avoided if at all possible. “Red” hair, much the same as the others but with a slight ruddy-brown tint, was the rarest of all, and thus feared and reviled as no other. It was considered the hair-color of the devil himself, neither to be trusted nor tolerated. And besides, “red-heads” were always such smart-asses.

Dyeing your hair a different color was of course prohibited, which made for a thriving black market. Even so, if you were caught with an ounce or more of Clairol you could be looking at some serious jail time, especially if you couldn’t afford a lawyer specializing in “cosmetic” defenses. Wandering gangs of rouge beauticians became all-powerful and roamed the streets at will, while lawlessness seemed to rule the land. And, as always, it was the innocent who seemed to suffer the most. These were dark days indeed.

Perhaps this foolish self-imposed misery would have continued on for another couple of hundred years until everyone’s hair had evolved into a single homogenous color, but on that fateful day in 2513 everything was about to change forever. For it was at this particular point in history that God Himself had finally had enough of all this nonsense, and He decided to render a just and deserved judgement upon all of mankind. And the very next day everybody’s hair just fell right out, and they all became a bunch of weird-looking “baldies”, which is how the “Non-Hairy Krishna” religion began. And we all know how annoying “they” can be.

Anyway, happy Bad Hair Day!



My day at the zoo was very scary! All the animals were looking at me funny, and I didn’t like it one bit! They could have at least put on some underwear, but they were all walking around in the nude, and acting like a bunch of weirdos. I tried to get away from them, but they were everywhere! I don’t think animals should be allowed in the zoo, because they act like wiseguys and make rude noises and look at you real creepy like they know things about you like the time my foot got stuck in the toilet. And they smell like my uncle Jocko, which isn’t so good. I tried really hard to hide from them, but then a policeman made me get down off the soda machine, so I had to spend the rest of the afternoon under my car in the parking lot. It was a good trick I played on all those stupid animals until oil started leaking onto my popcorn and the chipmunks attacked. Then I became very scared and started crying and wished to God I had gone to the circus instead! Monkeys are nice until they pee on you. The end.



The origin of the Universe is deeply shrouded within the mysteries of Time and Space. It should be noted, however, that so far only God has claimed responsibility for it, so I suppose we can concede Him that. There are, of course, a number of competing theories seeking to explain how God actually conceived and achieved the Universe. Most of us are familiar with the so-called “Big-Bang” theory, a sophisticated line of reasoning which imagines that God began the Universe with some kind of “big bang”. A similar idea, the “Big-Boom” theory , argues instead that God slipped on a huge cosmic banana peel and fell down went Boom, and that it was this, in fact, that started the Universe. So far, however, no one’s been able to explain where the banana peel came from, and to claim Satan put it there only raises more questions. Then there’s the theory held by a number of California surfers, which they call the “Big-Bong” theory. According to them, the Universe is really a huge cosmic bong, from which God is actually taking a “hit”. The interesting twist in this scenario is that God apparently  turned on the Universe so that it could, in turn, turn Him on. Perhaps the most bizzare theory of all comes from the Italian-American Mafia. They claim that God “made” the Universe before the Universe could “make” Him. In this version of events, one morning the Universe went out to start his car, and when he turned his key in the ignition it exploded. That’s their story, anyway,  and they’re sticking to it. They call it the “Badda-Bing-Bang” theory. The end.



The most alarming and fastest growing crime statistic of recent years has been that of space-alien abductions. Abduction victims have reported being prodded and medically examined and, in a few extreme cases, forced to perform laser karoke. What should you do if confronted with space aliens? First of all, never ever open your door for space-aliens. It’s best to pretend that you’re not even home. If the space-aliens persist, you might try playing a Barry Manilow record. Scientists are not sure why, but this sometimes drives them away. But remember, space-aliens have highly-advanced scientific technology far superior to our own, so it’s a good idea to keep a baseball bat handy as well. Kids, don’t talk to space-aliens, and never ever get into a spaceship, even if a space-alien offers you space candy. Remember kids,  just say “no” to space-aliens! Finally, if you ever find yourself confronted face-to-face with space-aliens try to remain calm, act polite but distant, and for goodness sake, don’t make any annoying wisecracks about their over-sized heads and huge insect-like eyes!



   Money is no good because it costs too much and all you get is paper. Money was invented many years ago in Middyville, Italy, mainly because it was too difficult to keep all those goats in your pocket at one time. What happens is you work for someone so they’ll give you some of their money so you’ll have it, but then you have to pay it to everybody else, and if you don’t have enough  you end up with less than when you started. As angry Middyvillians used to exclaim: “Hey! He conna me!”, which later became known simply as  “economy”. One time I had five dollars so I bought a wallet to keep it in, but then it was gone so I threw away the wallet because it hurt my ass to sit on. What a rip-off! The end. 



The dogs were barking again last night. Sometimes I eavesdrop on their conversations. “Hey!” says one dog. “What?” says the other. “I don’t know!” says the first dog. “You two shut-up!” says a third dog. “This is a private conversation, do you mind?” says the first dog. Then they get into a big argument over whose butt is smellier. This is very important to the dogs, and they often have competitions to determine who has the smelliest butt. This also allows them to keep tabs on what their opponents have been eating for the previous few days. Horse manure or cow manure, liberally applied, is a good way to fake the other dog out, and many a butt-smelling contest has been won using this technique. Bullshit is also very popular. The end.



How I spent my summer vacation was I went to the beach. It was very exciting because all the girls were naked underneath their bathing suits! I always wear underwear underneath my bathing suit because I always wear underwear underneath my underwear. One time I tried to wear underwear underneath my underwear which was underneath my other underwear, but it made my ass look fat so I had to go on a diet.  There were many people at the beach! I tried hard to count them all, but they kept moving around so I had to wait until they went home. The beach is a nice place, except for all that sand. I used to collect sand, but one time it got underneath my underwear which was underneath my other underwear and I became very angry. I heard that when you get angry you should count to ten, but I’m very impatient so I usually only count to one. The beach is fun until you get sand underneath your underwear, and then you have to count to one. One. I hate sand, unless it’s a sandwich. The end.