200 words, $125 and a dream

Apr 8th, 2015
by John.
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An innkeeper in Maine is offering her $900,000 lakeside inn to the writer of the best 200-word essay, explaining why they deserve to win the grand prize. My friend Rob sent me a link to the contest the other day and said “if you write it, I’ll cover the entry fee” which is just enough for me to take this thing seriously – $125. All of a sudden this is sort of a paid gig, and a chance to do something I’ve always wanted to do ever since I got the link a few days ago. I am going to win this contest, and I will be the owner of a 210-year-old inn that sits peacefully in the lakes and mountain district of Western Maine.

Here’s what I know about owning a hotel: I’m going to need a pencil thin mustache, a crew of bumbling but lovable bellhops, and probably some kind of hat. I figure the rest will just work itself out.

Come make our beds Danny. Forever. And ever. And ever.

Come make our beds Danny. Forever. And ever. And ever.

Also I’m going to assume there’s an off-season. Thousands of feet of snow, all of the roads closed, no electricity… let’s just come out and say it, I’m going to have to look after this place like Jack Nicholson in The Shining for like 4 months at a time. I read the book when I was 13, I watch the movie more than I care to admit, I think I’m prepared. Now I’m not saying I have the shining. But one time a guy at work was complaining because his office looked out into my cubicle and he didn’t want to stare at my face all day. I was new to the company, and I was the only thing blocking his precious view of three empty gray walls. So he talked to my boss, who talked to his boss and the next day all of my stuff was packed up and moved to the other side of the building. A week later, this man was dead. Something about complications during surgery. Now again, I’m not saying I had anything to do with it, or that I killed him with my shining brain waves, but you can’t prove that I didn’t.

But I digress. Here’s my winning 200 word entry, which I will hand deliver to the hotel myself, maybe with the aid of an axe through the front door.

Hello. Thank you very much for reading my essay. 200 words isn’t a lot to work with, but how strict are you really going to be here? Like, I just wrote the number 200. Does that count as one word, or do you count it separately, with the word two counting as one word and the word hundred counting as a second word? And if I’m over by one word are you not even going to read my essay? That’s bullshit. This is costing me $125. Well not me, but my sponsor Rob. He’s a friend of mine, who’s married to my wife’s very good friend from college. You probably don’t know him, or her, or my wife, but if you select my entry you’d get to meet all of us. I feel like we’d all get along great. Like you’d hand over the keys and think to yourself, I think I made the right decision. That reminds me, I’m going to need four keys to the front door. You can get them copied at Home Depot, it usually only takes a few minutes if you find someone that knows what they’re doing. Anyway, give me your hotel please. Thanks.

You can watch me scream and yell all of my recent posts on AwesomeTalk! It airs every other Tuesday on our YouTube channel, where you can also find past episodes and other psychotic vlog vids.

Posted in: awesometalk, life yo, shining.
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Caution this coffee is incredibly thought provoking

Mar 25th, 2015
by John.
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It only took a week, and Starbucks is already done with their Race Together campaign, where baristas were encouraged to start a conversation about race with their customers. By writing the phrase “Race Together” on your cup o’ joe, they would jumpstart a not at all awkward or complicated dialogue at 8 in the morning over the loud whirring of frothing milk. I guess they were hoping it would lead to more interaction between humans of different color. Imagine the thrill of this experience: “Honey, I talked to a black person today, and you wouldn’t believe what I learned. Have you heard of slavery? Pardon my French but it was Effed. Up.”

Public reaction to the campaign was mixed. From “why are you doing this” to “no, please don’t do this.”  And while Starbucks claims “no seriously, this was supposed to last a week, we totally planned on giving up on this idea very, very quickly,” I remain skeptical. You can’t talk about race issues in America with an overworked and underpaid person, presumably of a different race, as they wait on your impatient, white, fancy-drink craving ass. Unless of course the conversation is limited to, “Hey is it hard to be black in America?” And they reply “Yes,” and hand you your coffee.

I've got a tall flat white and questions about race for Jhlom? Is Jhlom here?

I’ve got a tall flat white and questions about race for Jhlom? Is Jhlom here?

But hey, you gave it your best shot Starbucks. This is a conversation that we all need to have, just in a less cutesy, “isn’t this fun, instead of writing your name wrong on your cup let’s have a rap session about apartheid” kind of way. But this wasn’t the worst campaign. Here are some other Starbucks conversation starters that the public wasn’t ready for:

Campaign #1 – Holocaust: Fact or Fiction? – Whoa whoa whoa hey man we’re Starbucks, we’re just asking questions here. We want our employees and customers to express themselves. What, you think anti-semites don’t treat themselves to Caramel Flan Frappuccino Blended drinks when they aren’t spreading hate propaganda? Now who’s the bigot? OK, you’re right, it’s still the anti-semites. We’re very sorry for this campaign, we don’t know what we were thinking. Please have a free pastry on us.

Campaign #2 – This is a two part question: a) Do you think if you kill someone in heaven that you’re automatically sent to hell and b) what if the person that you killed was actually an undercover minion of Satan? Admittedly it’s hard to fit all of that on a cup, so it was shortened to SECRET MINION? underlined twice. This raises many theological and moral questions. If pushed to the limit, would you kill someone in cold blood in heaven? And that’s without even getting into the logistics of how you would pull it off. But if I had to guess – razor blade angel wings.

See? These terrible and completely real examples prove that you should never ask customers anything in the morning before they’ve had their coffee. In the best case scenario they’ll throw their drink in your face, worse case they may actually answer you.

You can watch me scream and yell all of my recent posts on AwesomeTalk! It airs every other Tuesday on our YouTube channel, where you can also find past episodes and other psychotic vlog vids.

Posted in: awesometalk, food and drink.
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Fatherly Advice: Shit’s Creek Edition

Feb 18th, 2015
by John.
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It’s becoming increasingly obvious that I will not be a father any time soon. Maybe it was the way my wife looked me in the eyes over dinner a few months after we started dating, placed her hands on mine and whispered, “I am never fucking having children.” I nodded and poked at my appetizer, and she continued to repeat the word “never” well into the dessert course. Kind of chanted it, really. But there is a longing inside me, not for a child, but to dish out fatherly advice. Don’t touch that thing, this is how a baseball works, stop looking at daddy, etc. So, here’s some wisdom that I would kick down to my children if they would ever come out of their goddamn bedrooms and face me.

Kids, sometimes, there’s going to be a pipe in your basement, and you’re not going to know what it does. And that’s ok. Your mom and I had a pipe like that in the basement once. “Hey, what do you think this pipe does?” I asked her. She was upstairs so she didn’t hear me. When you’re married, you’ll understand that most of your time will be spent talking to people that aren’t in the same room as you, then getting mad when they can’t hear you. Anywho, one day I went into the basement to switch the laundry and noticed that the floor was covered in water. Immediately following this discovery, I noticed that the toilet in the basement (which I dubbed “the murder toilet” the first time I saw it) was… how do I put this… erupting goddamn raw sewage all over the fucking place. You know the beauty and majesty of Old Faithful? Kind of like that, but a geyser of shit.

You think you can take your old man?

You think you can take your old man?

Remember the mystery pipe from a few sentences ago? OK, well sewage was also pouring out of that. So I stood there, shit water at high tide, and called your mom downstairs and screamed WHAT THE FUCK AM I SUPPOSED TO DO ABOUT THIS? She made some phone calls while I got down on both knees, pointed my middle fingers to the heavens and snarled at God. Why God? What did I do to deserve this besides only asking for help when the Powerball goes above $300 million?

Long story short, the sewer man came and removed an errant rag from the sewer line, which was diverting Shit’s Creek into the basement. He proudly held it up like a fisherman that just caught the world’s most unappetizing mackerel. “Do you want it?” he asked. I said no, as we’re more of a catch and release household when it comes to shitty rags. So kids, the moral of the story is, if you panic enough, someone that’s better in crisis situations will step in and make it all better. In this example it was your mom and the sewer man.

Actually, now that I think of it, that’s really the only advice that I have to give. Let other people take care of everything all the time, kids. Specifically when it comes to shit geysers. I love you.

You can watch me scream and yell all of my recent posts on AwesomeTalk! It airs every other Tuesday on our YouTube channel, where you can also find past episodes and other psychotic vlog vids.

Posted in: life yo.
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Valentine’s Day II: The Ol’ B&E Switcheroo

Feb 4th, 2015
by John.
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Around this time last year, I talked about the perfect Valentine’s Day gift. Though I didn’t want to admit it, I now realize that surprising your lover with a family of mannequin children is not only a terrible idea, but also extremely costly. Raising one kid in this economy is hard enough, but five or six mannekids?  Not to mention joint repair, seasonal outfit changes, their tiny judgmental voices that only you can hear, the list goes on and on. So this year, let’s get back to basics. This Valentine’s Day, give her a gift she’ll never forget: a home invasion.

As a goof of course! I like to call it The Ol’ B&E Switcheroo.  It’s like a 50 Shades of Grey roleplay scenario, except instead of some entry-level kink, fake prowlers will break into your house, knock some stuff over, and as they attempt to kidnap your Valentine at gunpoint for ransom money, you’ll step in and save the day. This will teach her the true meaning of Valentine’s Day, and maybe you’ll even get your name in the paper. Also to make sure this whole thing looks real, you will be shot. Let’s get started!

First thing’s first, you’re going to need one to two bandits, burglars, crimeguys, what have you, to carry out the mock home invasion. Preferably someone that knows the layout of your home, so maybe talk to some friends from church. Casually drop some references to your plan in everyday conversation, like, “Oh man wouldn’t it be weird if you guys broke into my house” or “I want you fellas to shoot me as a goof.” If they already have ski masks then you’re ahead of the game. If not, maybe they can be expensed as part of the mission. You’re really going to have to work it out with them. And please, this is supposed to be a special event, so why not spring for a professional ski mask fitting? You don’t want two bozos rolling up to your house in ill-fitting ski masks, thereby ruining the immersion.

I love you.

I love you.

When the 14th rolls around, at 8:00 at night, kiss your Valentine on the head and over a dramatic yawn, say you’re going to hit the hay. After all, you had a very busy day lining your body with blood capsules and squibs, Dawn of the Dead / Tom Savini style. Phase 1 complete. Phase 2 begins when the “prowlers” throw themselves through the parlor window and look menacing.  It’s all part of the roleplay. This is fun. Everyone is having a great time. You come bounding down the stairs with the perfect quip, like – “Hey, what are you doing?” or “I had no idea this was going to happen!” BANG your buddy from church shoots you with a hopefully fake gun and that’s your cue to start triggering the squibs. You really have to sell this part, because it leads directly into phase 3: The Kidnapping.

You’re lying there, covered head to toe in blood (because maybe you went a bit overboard with the squibs), and the prowlers are acting out the script you wrote for them. “I can’t believe we killed him,” one of them will say. “Aye. ‘Tis truly a shame he died on the Saint Valentine’s Day. Oh well, let’s do a kidnapping on this lady.” Then, suddenly you spring back to life, knock out your buddies from church, and save the day. Now get down on one knee, hold her hand and say,  “I came back to life for you. Happy Valentine’s Day.”

It’s just that easy. A Valentine’s Day fit for a queen. Her friends will be so jealous, and on the off chance she discovers that this whole scenario was fabricated, flowers are always cheaper the day after Valentine’s Day.

You can watch me scream and yell all of my recent posts on AwesomeTalk! It airs every other Tuesday on our YouTube channel, where you can also find past episodes and other psychotic vlog vids.

Posted in: awesometalk, life yo.
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Hack3rs gonna hack, phr3ak3rs gonna phr3ak

Jan 21st, 2015
by John.
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In September of 1995, a movie was released that changed the cultural landscape forever. In it, a group of friends use their powers to fight an evil shadow organization, hell bent on destroying the world with a super virus. I’m of course talking about the cinematic masterpiece Hackers. Angelina Jolie, the guy from Trainspotting and Matthew Lillard face off against the guy with the racist Indian accent from Short Circuit and Penn Jillette with nothing but some zip disks and a vague sense of hacking. Cyberpunks all over the world were inspired by the titular hackers, and armed with their gigantic laptops and screaming, ear piercing modems, hacked the planet.

But what if you could hack your life? Hacking is a term that’s become synonymous with doing basically anything, so chances are you’re hacking something right now and you don’t even know it. Matthew Lillard would be so proud, screaming some goofy bullshit as he watches you frantically lifehack your mainframe. In 3, 2, 1… press enter and boom, we’re in. Lines of code run over my face and I’m like hey remember when I used coffee filters? Well I just lifehacked a new reality for myself where I use Taco Bell napkins instead. You just have to hack the Taco Bell by getting red in the face and crying in the drive thru line long enough. They think I’m drying my tears with these bad boys, but nope. I’m filtering my coffee for free, and laughing all the way to the bank, where my debit card is also being hacked as we speak.

Sleevehack

Sleevehack

Here’s a lifehack for the new year: gym memberships are just too darn expensive, I mean am I right, have you heard about this? Not to mention they’re filled with muscle boys that know what they’re doing with their intimidating clanging machinery and intimidating clanging pensises, glistening in the locker room like a corn field kissed with dew. Strap on your VR headset, bang out some Perl scripts and hack your basement into the gymnasium of your dreams. Why pay $20 a month to punch a bag when you can punch your boiler and get basically the same results. Want a workout that really turns up the heat? Hack your shower to run in “hot mode” and then go 25 rounds against the boiler. The bodyhack, it burns my delicate hacking fingers.

But what of the most formidable hack of all: Love. Could you hack the heart of a lover? I mean the guy from Trainspotting did it in Hackers. He even got to see Angelina Jolie’s breasts, but c’mon man. Look at you. You’re no guy from Trainspotting, and good luck getting through the Brad Pitt firewall. Maybe start smaller by preparing a foodhack for your potential mate. For example, did you know Raisin Brain is just corn flakes mixed with raisins? It’s true. Watch her eyes light up when you explain the cereal she’s eating for dinner out of a bowl you fashioned out of a rolled up newspaper was lovingly foodhacked, just for her.

So is calling everything a hack just a way to appeal to pasty nerds through verb usage, tricking them into making small life changes all in the name of standing up to the status quo? Yes. Yes that’s exactly what it is. I think this quote from the Hacker’s Manifesto sums it all up: “Hey bro, just hack it. Whatever it is, hack the living shit out of it. C’mon dude. Hack it.”

You can watch me scream and yell all of my recent posts on AwesomeTalk! It airs every other Tuesday on our YouTube channel, where you can also find past episodes and other psychotic vlog vids.

Posted in: awesometalk, life yo, movies.
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