The Opposite of Shovel

They considered a new home design theme, the centerpiece of which was a novelty street sign reading "No Farting Zone."

Skaari

80,000 sq. ft. IKEA indoor conformopolis. Spans three levels, featuring life-size interactive homes, virtual build sites, customer re-education centers, bistros, children's playfarm. Alas, no solid rosewood suicide booth, brushed steel accent panels, sturdy eviceration mechanism.

Piles

My home has become not so much a mess as decidedly anti-burglar.

BJMC

Imagine his dismay, having graduated from a reputable journalism school only to discover the field no longer exists.

Iraqi Legislative Initiative #00003

Form E-04 // Please mark clearly.

Newly registered Iraqi voters : All Districts

PROPOSITION A

Should American military and government agencies be required to leave Iraq within one (1) month?

___ YES

___ NO

*** Please fold in half and deposit in box near exit. ***

Please Hammer Don't Hurt 'Em

Stay safe, fellas.

defunct

Man, that Chuck D, he's always bitching about something.

Legend Speaks of His Command of Beasts

In the moments before my identity came into focus, we corresponded:

***

Hi Matt!

It was great meeting with you last week. The party was a lot of fun - I'm sorry you weren't able to make it.

Any ideas yet on names for your column? I have a couple, but I want to hear your thoughts first. I'm really excited about this column - I think it will add another dimension to the paper.

Give me a call or e-mail me with your first round of brainstormed ideas.

Take care,

Cat
--

Catherine B. Isley

Editor in Chief Lead Designer
Yummy Magazine

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Hey Cat.

I'm sorry as well I wasn't able to make it to the party — I haven't been to
an old fashioned kissing contest in ages, and the last one I attended (where
I got second place, thankyouverymuch) was mostly farm-leaguers. A star
performance from Topeka's "Smooches" McGraw, however.*

Like pit bulls on pork chops, I'm eagerly anticipating my first writing
appearance in Yummy, and I've been mulling over some possible column names:
Binge!
Pizza For Alf
Settle For Mediocrity
Meat is Murder
Turkeys go "Oble-gobbly-obly-oble-gobble!"
Grease Talk
Is There Spit in This?
Resurrect the Vomitorium
I Only Eat Cereal

Please provide your input, insight, and suggestions. Fear not my
sensitivities in your professional criticisms, for interpersonal tension the
key to our on-stage appeal.

Sincerely,

Matthew Jensen
The citizen to whom you accidentally sent your e-mail.


* 1996, 1997, 1999 Champion of the Tri-State Kissing Series, you'll
remember, falling in 98 due to a hyperextended maxilla. Frankly, I suspect
if the doctors had let him stay in the game he'd have another golden
kissy-lips belt buckle to show for it. A warm, gentle man.



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Hi Matthew -

I haven't been in touch because my editorial assistant started a couple of days ago - sorry I haven't written you back.

I read over your column title suggestions. I like what you have, but they don't make a lot of sense, meaning that if I read the title I can't discern what the column is about.

Any others up your sleeve?

Binge kind of works, but I would think that Purge would be better because you're venting and getting your opinions and perceptions out there for everyone to read. But then again purge means to vomit, and hopefully no one will do that after reading the piece! ;)

Cat
--

Catherine B. Isley

Editor in Chief Lead Designer
Yummy Magazine


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Hello Catherine ...

I know how it can be with editorial assistants—frankly, they disgust me. I've had a couple of run-ins with that element, and each instance has left me feeling emotionally defeated and hollow. They're a smarmy, parasitic bunch who live only to prey upon the downtrodden. Damn well dressed, though. Wait ... I'm sorry, I'm thinking of pimps.

I've been doing a lot of mitten washing and mulling over column titles, and I think that you were correct in noting the flaws in my original attempts. Upon review, they inspire me not, and I've composed some alternates:

If You Squint It Kinda Looks Like a Moose
The Mailman Has Got a Blade ... He'll Cut You, Bro
Give Ted Nugent a Kiss, Ralph Nader
My Spoon is Too Big For What You're Asking Me To Do With It
Dammit, Gloria, What Have I Told You About Not Touching My Tools?
And Their Bindings? Still Crispy.
These Are My "Going Out" Pants
Young Bee Need Young Flower Make Honey
Born to Stink
Legend Speaks of His Command of Beasts
You Like White People? Not me. I HATE White People.

I hope these are more along the lines of what you're expecting, as they were written in a state of near-delirious exhaustion. All my friends ever want me to do anymore is jump over this and smash up that and make my eyes light up. It's draining.

Matt Jensen

ps It appears that you have mistaken my e-mail address for the e-mail address of a recently hired columnist (who likely shares my name). While I appreciate the correspondence, and probably wouldn't mind having his gig, I am not him. I am, in fact, me.

I am, in fact, very powerful.

So let's put this identity mix-up behind us and get to business: What word count are we talking about on these columns?

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Hi Matt -

I had a chance this morning to look over what you sent as re-thinks for the column's name. I think you may misunderstand what I'm looking for. If you look at Yummy, each column has a name, like Libation, Provisions, or Morning Shift. They indicate what the column is about. If You Squint It Kinda Looks Like a Moose and The Mailman Has Got a Blade ... He'll Cut You, Bro don't give any hint as to what the column will be. They're creative names, but I don't feel comfortable with any of them. I was thinking more along the lines of Just My Opinion, Perspective, Point of View, Commentary, etc... Something that is simple and understandable. We have a very diverse reading audience, from young to old. Please let me know what you think.

Cat
--

Catherine B. Isley

Editor in Chief Lead Designer
Yummy Magazine

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*****************************

Hello Cat.

I must apologize up front, for I think I've been totally misreading your expectations for my column's title. I've been leaning a bit more toward the avant garde than you would prefer, it seems, and I agree that it'd probably be best to remain simple and understandable.

Incidentally, I'm plenty in love with your suggestion, "Just My Opinion, Perspective, Point of View, Commentary, etc ..." so, assuming it isn't too lengthy, I'd be happy to use that title and call it a done deal.

[Boy, with all of these frustrating title near-misses, I'll bet sometimes you get to wishing that you'd never hired me! Worry not, for there have been many others far more disappointed in me. Fortunately, most of them are now dead and buried or burnt beyond identification.]

I know we haven't spoken specifically about column topics, but I took the liberty of assembling a first attempt for your perusal:

——
Just My Opinion, Perspective, Point of View, Commentary, etc ...


I'm locked out of my house, and I can't get into my car either — all because of that fucking motorcross rally.

So I'm settling into the Family Arena, enjoying some modified snowmobile races, workin' on this MEAN meatball sandwich, and these guys behind me start arguing about their boats. Now, if there's anything that gets me worked up, it's boats—and these guys wouldn't know a boat from a kick in the balls. So I bite my tongue as long as I can while the dude in the Bass Pro Shops cap tries to convince the dude in the Big Johnson tank top that you could push along a 15-footer with a 4 horsepower trolling motor. Can you believe that? And people around that conversation are kinda' like trying not to laugh or anything, so for the sake of everyone else I turn around just to set Mr. Bass Pro straight.

Or at least I was *going* to set Mr. Bass Pro straight, because no sooner had I turned my head than a disaster transpired. As it was later explained to me, one of those snowmobile guys clipped his ski on those big yellow tires surrounding the track. And while normally the rider is injured horribly, and that's pretty cool, this time the ski snapped free and went whizzing into the crowd. Right at my head.

Now, I only vaguely remember what happened, but it will forever change me and my ability to get into my house.

There was this bright flash of light at first, and I still didn't know what was going on, but then I had this weird sensation of floating. Sure enough, I was hovering all peaceful-like, and I could roll over and look down on the entire arena (which was way better than the view from my seat). More strangely, though, was that I could also see myself slumped over in the crowd with folks all around me. I tried to call out to them, but I was suddenly shooting down this tunnel of light. I started to catch on at this point: I was no longer of an earthly plane and this light tunnel was actually the cosmic fiber of the universe. And I would have tried to touch the stuff if this guy hadn't appeared and totally scared the shit out of me. I realized slowly who it was: Gary Campbell, this dude I knew who got his neck bit out by chimps. And he looks at me, this misty figure in the bright light of the tunnel, and before I can say, "Gary, aren't you dead?" he looks at me and goes, "It's not your time yet," and BAM, I'm in the back of an ambulance.

Now, I've come to realize that the whole deal was one of those near-death/out-of-body experience things, and that's all fine and good, but for as much cosmic understanding as I now have, I came out of the affair minus one set of keys. Somewhere in there, those damn things must've fallen out of my pocket. And I know I had them when I was floating, because they were jingling when I rolled over to watch the snowmobiles, and I know I didn't have them when Gary appeared, because when he first started coming at me all misty-like I reached for my key ring to pepper spray his ass and make him get the hell away because his neck had gnarly chimp bites all up and down it.

So if you ever have one of those out-of-body experiences, and you happen to be in that tunnel of light, could you just keep an eye out for my keys? They've got pepper spray and a little whistle on them. And if you happen to see some event at the Family Arena, make sure you have one of those meatball sandwiches. Damn tasty.

——

With that little gem settling into the folds of your lobes, firing dopamine into the pleasure sensors of your brain, I think we should get to a little real business while you're still associating my correspondence with euphoria: I remember we initially spoke of standard freelancing rates for my work, but I'm willing to waive any payment in lieu of an advertisement agreement with Yummy.

You see, aside from following my writing pursuits and working in dictaphone repair, I also offer a topless butler service. It's a discreet, erotic, no-contact service for men and women who enjoy both male toplessness and butling (and no, they're not all Japanese businessmen). While I do very well advertising in the alternative weekly, your comment about Yummy's audience diversity sparked in me the realization of a totally untapped market. I feel that utilization of ad space in Yummy, particularly were it procured through a gratis trade agreement, would be more of a benefit to me (both financially and socially) than standard freelance payment. Please let me know if this sounds reasonable, and if so, provide me with the name and number of your ad manager so that we may iron out the specifics.

I hope you are doing well!

-matt

PS I'm sorry it has taken so long for me to reply to previous e-mails. I'd accidentally been sending my replies to an online editor acquaintance of mine (who, coincidentally, shares your name). Confusing! Fortunately, she was a good sport about the foul-up and we continue to correspond. Take that, Canada!



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Good morning, Matt,

Please don't be offended, but I think that we are on totally different wave lengths.

I enjoy your writing style, which is why I thought that you'd be right for this column, but after reading your first idea, I'm not sure that this is the right fit. Please don't think that this is a critique of your writing ability - it's edgy and fun to read - but I am not sure that it's right for Yummy. The column isn't about the restaurant industry/food (except the slight mention of meatball sandwiches), like I had asked. Also, using "fucking" and "kick in the balls" would be offensive to the majority of our readers. We are pushing toward a more professional perspective.

Let's put this column on hold for now, but I will definitely keep you in mind. Again, please don't take this personally - I just need to find a person with the right voice for this piece.

Best regards,

Catherine
--

Catherine B. Isley

Editor in Chief Lead Designer
Yummy Magazine

***

Bert's Q-Uarrel

a ripplin'

My friend has one of those little indoor serenity ponds at her office. I'd fucking kill humans for a serenity pond.