Friday, February 23, 2007
Thursday, February 22, 2007
Supply-Side Economics
Everything you really need to know
about supply-side economics
can be learned by watching The Roadrunner.
Not everyone can be a roadrunner,
and coyotes are pretty much doomed
to be coyotes, but you should invest heavily
in the ACME Corporation, regardless.
Because so long as there are roadrunners
and coyotes, there will always be
an imbalance of power, and hunger,
and a nearly genetic refusal
to learn from the failures of history.
And even if it would be cheaper
to order takeout every night, roadrunners
and coyotes are tradition-bound creatures,
set by God or fate in eternal opposition--
and wouldn’t you just kill
for a pair of rocket-powered roller skates?
Posted by IRFH at 10:20 PM 0 comments
Labels: humor, poetry, pop culture
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
Four Personality Types of a Corpolypse
Does it feel like the end times for your company? Maybe it is. Take a look at this handy chart of the 4 basic business disaster precursor personality types and see where you fit in the cycle of despair.
Posted by IRFH at 9:12 PM 0 comments
Labels: business, humor, pseudoscience
Friday, February 16, 2007
Slivers
At first it was just Bennie and me, hauling ass along US 87 in the brand new '65 Ford Galaxie 500 convertible I'd stolen back in Denver. We'd had the top down all morning, and the high plains wind was whipping us like dogs. Bennie was having a hard time keeping his hat on, and the sight of him clamping that stupid out-dated fedora to the top of his head gave me a sudden fit of the giggles. I banged on the horn a few times to punctuate my amusement, swerving dangerously.
"Where the hell do you think that hat's going to go, you mangy reptile?"
Bennie flicked his elegant tongue lazily in my direction and gave me the evil eye.
I howled.
Due to the nature of my disease, it's impossible to be absolutely certain of anything; but I believe that I have met The Devil and lived to tell about it; and I believe that if you meet him, he'll as soon wear your own face as another...
[Read more!]
Posted by IRFH at 3:48 PM 0 comments
Labels: fiction
Monday, February 12, 2007
Wordsmiting
sheam [shēm] n.
1. Guilt associated with actions occurring only in dreams.
2. Remorse following the sudden realization that hours of fantasies of outwitting the detectives on TV's CSI or Law and Order franchises almost incidentally also include plotting grievous bodily injury to members of your own family.
bus fucked [bŭs fŭk'd] n.
The state of having been pinned behind a stopped or slow-moving bus by the endless line of cars behind you switching lanes and passing too quickly for you to also get around.
wall of impenetrable ignorance [wôl ŭv ĭm-pĕn'ĭ-trə-bəl ĭg'nər-əns] n.
The unbreakable line formed when the lead cars in every lane of the highway drive unnecessarily slowly at exactly the same rate of speed, trapping miles of traffic behind them in a tide of seething rage.
Posted by IRFH at 10:29 PM 0 comments
Tuesday, February 6, 2007
I Get Mail...
> From: Ted H.
> Sent: Tuesday, February 6, 2007 3:26 PM
> To: itsrainingmetaflo@hotmail.com
> Subject: A guy can dream, can't he?
>
> Oh, man, I had the freakiest dream last night! I'm at this posh lake resort when all of a sudden, Julia Roberts walks up with a bunch of her people. Julia Freakin' Roberts! And, oh, man she's happy to see me! Turns out we're very close friends. She gives me a big, warm hug, and we ditch the entourage to go sit together by the lake.
I kind of lie back and Julia curls up in my arms. I stroke her hair and kiss the back of her neck, and she holds me as tight as she can. And the whole time I'm telling her how beautiful she is, how wonderful; and how nobody realizes how special she really is as a person, as a woman - but I know.
And she's soaking it up, she's just absolutely loving and craving this shit. It's like our private ritual: I bathe her in unconditional love, and she's rejuvenated. And we're both filled with indescribable joy.
Then I woke up alone, and it felt like my guts had been ripped out! Talk about your nightmares! I mean: Julia Freakin' Roberts! What a talentless hack!
Posted by IRFH at 3:33 PM 1 comments
Labels: humor, mail, pop culture