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Archives: Dec 2010

Conversations designed to end conversing

Life is not complicated, no matter how often people try to claim otherwise. The key to a pleasant existence on this Earth is fairly simple: Spend more time doing things you like than doing things you hate, and you’ll live a charmed life. Rich or poor has very little to do with it. If you find a job and a mate you like, you’re 99 percent of the way there.

Attaining such a goal is certainly easier said than done, but with hard work and perseverance, it’s not difficult to remove or avoid at least a portion of the things you despise in life. Don’t like sitting in traffic? Go into work early and leave a little late. Don’t like cleaning the house? Stop going to bars and restaurants so often, or stop buying vintage jewelry and little angel statues on Ebay, and use the savings to hire a once-per-week cleaning service.

One of the things I hate most in life is conversation with random strangers. It’s awkward, forced, and usually ends with at least one participant hating human beings a little more than they did before. I especially get annoyed when casual acquaintances at work start conversations with me.

That’s why I write this column. It cuts down on the number of people asking me “What’s new?” They just read this column, see I’m writing about Hitler knitting snowpants for cats, and think, “All right, if Paul has time for this, he obviously has nothing else going on in his life. I’ll find someone more interesting to blather on with endlessly.”

Paul Ryan is on vacation

Our regular columnist, Paul Ryan, is off this week for Christmas, and also to complete an out-of-court settlement regarding some indecent exposure charges. In his absence, we’re reprinting a column Hitler wrote for Cat Fancy magazine in 1936. Enjoy.

Ze thing about dressing up your cat in ze snowpants is that ze cat, she will struggle. Like it or no, zere is not a special company that creates ze snowpants for kittens. You will have to buy snowpants from ze little babies section of department store, or steal them from a Jew.

If you are not liking ze color of ze snowpants available, you can dye them on ze laundry washboard in backyard. If you do not want to ruin ze laundry washboard, you can sneak into ze backyard of Jew and ruin theirs. But howevers, please to be advised that ze Jews, zey are cheap, so zey are probably scrubbing laundry with rocks.

If you do not mind ze delay, I would like to take zis time to list ze names of all ze cats in mein house: Mittens, Puddles, Poopsies, Adolf I, Adolf II, Adolf III, Return of Adolf, Ze Phantom Adolf, Shitters, Tickles, Mrs. Poosine, Swastikat, Meowsers Fortley, and one cat belong to Ada that we just call Ada’s Pussy.

A list of naughty things I’ve done

Christmas is fast approaching, which means I now have both Santa Claus and Jesus watching over me like wanton perverts. As usual, I’ve procrastinated on being good until the last week before Christmas, and I figure the only way to get through this with presents is to come clean with all the bad things I’ve done this year.

Fortunately, we’re in a recession, so I’ve only had funds for limited debauchery this year. Here’s the list:

– I talked to my mom on the phone while using the toilet. She was unaware.

– One of my bosses put a bunch of chocolate gold coins out for everyone at work to enjoy. I took them all for myself, and continued not sharing them, even after coming down with a massive case of diarrhea from eating too many.

Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer 2k10

Snowman Narrator: If I live to be 100, I’ll never forget that big snowstorm a couple of years ago. The weather shut us in and, well you might not believe it, but I got so drunk that I nearly missed Christmas. I threw up all over my wife… oh, excuse me, I got a little carried away there. My name’s Sam, and this is the story of Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. Take it, Burl!

Burl Ives: (Silence, accompanied by a shot of Ives’ corpse decomposing.)

Snowman Narrator: Whoops! Heh. I forgot about that. Let’s just cut right to the North Pole, for the first scene of the story.

Mrs. Claus: Eat, papa, eat!

Santa: Shut up, bitch! You’re gonna make me bulimic!