I saw a bird do this once

TO: jphelps@sbcglobal.net
RE: Time off this Friday

Mr. Phelps,

I would just like to inform you that I will not be able to come in to work this Friday. I was informed by my mother this morning that my great-aunt Joanna has passed away unexpectedly, due to complications from her recent heart surgery. Her services will be held in Los Angeles Friday afternoon, meaning I will have to drive down there that morning.

Our family is doing well considering the circumstances, but I ask that no one try to contact anyone in my family (including my cousin Benicio down in the mailroom) to avoid any unneccessary pain.

I appreciate your sensitivity in this matter.

Sincerely,

Jesus Avila




TO: jphelps@sbcglobal.net
RE: Time off Monday and Tuesday

Mr. Pehlps,

I would just like to inform you that i will be unablet o come into work this coming Monday and TUesday. as you may recall, I dove up to Los Angeles this weekend to attend my great-aunts funaerl. It was a wonderufl service that helped me to remememebr the impact he had on me and my family. HIs wife is taking it slowly, but is oing well. I appreciate your understnaing at this sensitiive time.

Unfortunetly while I wasdriving home from LA yesterday, I got in an accident up on holiday Drive and had to be amitted to the hospital. I don't remember much of the accient but i know my head hit the side windot pretty hard, giving me a severe consussion. The docotr told me I ashould rest as much as possible the next feww days in order to relax. The other driver is facing criminial charegs, so they informed that neither I nor my work should not attempt o contact my insurance compny or doctor for details ont he incident.

I appreciate your cooperatoin in this matter and hope to get back to wokr soon!@

Sincerely,

Jesus AVila

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TO: javila@sbcglobal.net
RE: Re: Time off Monday and Tuesday

Mr. Avila

Tony in HR told me what happened. Good thing you were wearing a helmet.

Sincerely,

Jason Phelps

Tongues in a Bottle

"I have so many...big objects..."

"Not this again..."

"But Jack..."

"All those big objects won't fit ANYwhere, Janet, and you know it."

"But they have to go somewhe--"

"FORGET IT! Forget the big objects! Those things are just TOO DARN BIG to fit anywhere! This is all you do, Janet. You just talk and talk about these objects like you owe them something. Like you just can't move on until you can put them somewhere."

"Jack...Jack don't yell at me."

"Well wake up and smell the coffee on the wall Janet. THOSE THINGS JUST WON'T FIT. ANYWHERE."

"Jack wait, don't leave!"

"I'm done, Janet! I'm done with you and I'm done with your big objects!"

"Jack wait...I think I've found something..."

a pause

"Found what?"

"How to put big objects...into something small..."



"Janet...I'm so sorry..."

Invisible strings

What a freaking missed opportunity.

Have these people ever heard of moonwalking? Trash can lids? Slip 'n slides?

No, it's all about what YOU have to do. Where YOU need to go. No room for windy day fun in Norway, folks. Gotta get back home to try out the cosmetic crap I got at Vita.

Haven't you ever read Tuesdays With Morrie? Everything happens for a reason! Including Crazy Wind Day! Heck, even a freaking kite would've made it worth it. Tie it to that trash can over there and let it fly. Put a parachute on a puppy and see what happens. Do you see what I'm looking for? Comedy! ENTERTAIN ME!

Flags all over the pace

The groin hit.

A time-honored tradition among home video enthusiasts, the groin hit serves its purpose in its unfailing ability to render both the victim and the viewer in hysterics. There may not be a more hopeless sight than seeing a man take a shot right right in the marbles, especially if it causes the injured party to recoil and drop to his knees, clutching said marbles.

Enter Kerwin Bell, quarterback for the Winnipeg Blue Bombers. Current record holder for the highest career passer rating of any quarterback in the NFL (min. 1 pass attempt), Kerwin forged himself a healthy career in Canadian football. His fertile pass attempts conceived touchdown offspring, while opponents were rendered impotent.

On some occasion, Kerwin found himself smashing into the endzone on his feet, thus having the need to celebrate his newfound burst of ecstasy.

What eventually follows this peak of gladness, is utter failure.

In mere seconds, Florida Gator Kerwin Bell goes from champ to chump.

Spike.

Groin.

Shove.

Butt in face.

Defeat.

Cause right now you ain't actin' right

I can see the mistake made here. Chasin' down cigarette smokers in the hood who ain't actin' right can be dangerous work. There's no time to check each gate like "hm I wonder if this one's good" and let the Newport Nabber get away with this offense.

Sure you might be "faster than you think" but so are my grandpa's reflexes playing ping pong. This guy's got a doo rag, the bicycle speed helmet of on-foot chases, and no shirt, just like Michael Phelps (and he's freakin' fast). This cop clumsily jumps fences in his sleep. He knows this.

No, the true hero of our story is the man unseen. The unassuming silent witness to the crime scene does take the time to check the gate. He does find it to be unlocked, and with a furtive glance our hero continues the chase. In a court of law this footage can be used to prosecute, and this cameraman will raise his head high knowing "I was there ... I checked that gate ..."

AHHHHHHHH!!!

OH SHOOT OH SHOOT.

Look at 'em out on the lawn! These kids are building some major freaking team UNITY! HAHAHAHA!

OH! OH!

Look at 'em! Look at 'em under the parachute! AHAHAHA Look at 'em under the freakin' parachute!!

OH SHOOT! AHH! Look at the tour group over there! They're just watchin'! AHHHHAHA!! They're like "Dang this school has got some dope lawn activities! I'm droppin' some serious debt to come to this joint!" AHAHAHAHA

This officer's like "I'm gonna need to get in on this team building!" OH! OH! HE WANTS IN!

Oh man what's he gonna do!? Is he gonna get in there?! Dude just wait 'til the next turn bro! They'll let you in I promise! Oh here he goes. OH SHOOT OH SHOOT!

AHHHH! Someone farted!! AHHHHHH!! They're running away!  AHHHHAHAHA! LOOK AT 'EM! LOOK AT 'EM! AHHHHHHHHH!! AHHHHH!!! ONE OF THEM'S STUCK!! HE'S SMELLING IT HE'S SMELLING IT!!

Makin' copies

"EXHIBIT A. A flat-head staple remover, inserted into the right subclavian artery, removed, and inserted again into the right common carotid artery."

"Your honor, we know the alleged weapons, there's no need to remind the jur--"

"Overruled. Mr. Ross you may continue."

"EXHIBIT B. A mangled Bic pen inserted into the left orbital socket, penetrating the outer brain tissue. The cap was not removed.

"And finally, EXHIBIT C. A self-recorded video uploaded, by the defendant, to YouTube 5 days before the death of Mr. Paul Howard.




"The video gained a staggering 10,000 views in those 5 days. 10,000 citizens listened to the defendant say the words, '...maybe [I'll] kill him.' Among them, one Meta1ord, declared 'homicide' to be a 'really good solution.'

"There's an old saying my father used to say. He said that if something looks like a duck ... "

"Get to the point already!"

"... smells like a duck ..."

"Mr. Johnson, do not interrupt the courtroom again."

"... then by golly ... it must be a duck.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, Mr. McNease ...

"... is a duck."

Do the pizza

Hands down my favorite part of watching America's Funniest Home Videos is watching children fall over. It's even more of my favorite if they fall over while screaming. It still yet more of my favorite if they're wearing snow clothes, which renders each of their limbs even more useless than they were before.

I know this must make me sound like a sadist, and if I ever want to adopt kids one day this confession might permanently put me in the "Danger: Unstable" file. But I just can't resist the helpless, flailing cries of a toddler meeting the surface of the earth.

The above video adds an extra wrinkle to the proceedings, giving us the useless cries of "PIZZA!!!"as the child clearly does whatever the opposite of a "pizza" is. And despite the child's inability to remember the tasty ski technique, the man continues to yell it out, hoping that if perhaps he could yell "PIZZA" even louder, the word might suddenly gain the intended meaning.

Spoiler: it doesn't

Oh, no. I'm sorry. So sorry.

Freaking reporters, man!

A once in a lifetime chance to break a Guiness World Record, and it's ruined by his incompetence. Had he never shown his dirty face, had he never emerged from his mother's womb, these kids would've been immortalized in Discovery Science Center in Santa Ana, CA lore.

Consider the following:

1. How difficult it is to rig a bubble set-up like that. I mean, freak that's hard.
2. How difficult it is to find 20-30 kids wearing yellow shirts.
3. How not difficult it is to not step in the one freaking part of the stage that would completely ruin everything.

I mean come one, David you were killing it out there! You nailed the live send-off from the studio, your introduction was Pulitzer-worthy, and your "bubble" pun landed like jet on a runway. All you had to do was just--

Wait--




Oh. I see.

David, you're a freaking weird.

In which Shawna gets her oats

Pretty much everywhere, it's gonna be hot.

The goofy smile, the lackadaisical wave, the air of "who the freak cares". This is a weatherman worn down by his trade. As our protagonist shows us what Sol will bring us on her solar chariot that day, he weathers his own feelings of inadequacy and labored self-assurance, allowing us to peer into his self. From there we can ask the relevant questions: At what point on the scale of morning TV talk show professionalism does one lose all sense of decency? At what point does it all become a big joke?

Probably somewhere around the 3rd toke.

Donna?

"Get me the freak off camera/Where's the craft table?"

Then I don't need a jacket.

Shawna, you ignorant slut. When did you even think you needed a jacket? As you sit pretty near your coffee mug and wax grapes in this air-conditioned studio space, just know that yes, the world outside is much  different from the life of providence you so clearly take for granted. When our protagonist tells you that yes, pretty much everywhere it's gonna be hot, you don't respond with the kind of half-hearted banter appropriate only for strained workplace interactions. You ask him how hot? How long must we suffer this heat? How much pot have you smoked? Our protagonist lives to tell you where it's gonna be hot, and just how sure he is that it will be hot. He doesn't need to be questioned.

"...."

In this pause we may see the cosmos. In this pause we may see within ourselves. The woman has presented our protagonist (and us) with a daring question: Do we need a jacket? The answer, implicit in the initial statement, is no, you do not. But we do not address this. No, we let it simmer. Let it sit. In this pause, time stands still as we all wonder: what will he say?

A-hengh-hengh-hengh-hengh

Bliss.

Thanks, Arthur.

Our hero has a name--an identity--and for once, a purpose. At some point in his report and delayed joke-validation, he provided our two hosts with something of value. They don't see the angst, the hurt, that sits deep inside our protagonist. They see see something greater. A Haitian weatherman, weathering his own storms. And for once, he sees it in himself. 

Everything except the squeal

While to some this video may look like an attack on soap opera music, and the hackiness they exude, I see it as a cry for help. This cat's life work is being broadcast to millions of stay-at-home moms across the country, providing them with the vicarious life they so desperately want, while they struggle to provide for their households with a modest income of tasty cat treats.

Finally, these cats have a voice, one that can be used to say so much more than just "meow". For once they can stand up for the work they do. Stand proud of the arhythmic scores they've created for Days of Our Lives, Guiding Light, and the ever-relevant Passions. The only thing now is for the tyrants known as soap opera producers to act, and act soon, as D. Brent Nelson and Martin Davich (among others) fight to keep their head above water in this economy.

This video might well be our generation's The Jungle, with tvboy88 as the Upton Sinclair of cat soap opera composers. 

Inaugural Toob

In Greek mythology, the "Moirai", (or the "fates") were the three white-robed goddesses who weaved together the fates of men, controlling their destiny as a weaver would spin their spindle. They, and they alone, crafted the vast web of human interaction, crossing the paths of men and women as they saw fit. Every mortal, from birth to death, had their life controlled by these women, known to the Greeks as Clotho, Lachesis, and Atropos. Only Zeus held the power to overthrow their spinning, and determine his own will for man.

At some point in their tangled web of deceit, marvels, and divine coincidence, these three women crafted a tangled knot of fated paths. A knot that could only come to be through divine guidance. The planets and stars aligned, smiling upon Nationals Park in Washington, D.C. that day, as the Washington Nationals and Cincinnati Reds collided to determine who could play the better 9 innings.

Known only to us and to them as "eyedropswag", this video is our only record of that event.