I Hate Laundry

• by GeekMan • In Geek Life, HoBiscuit, Rants •   9

Can anyone explain this to me?

When I was living alone, doing laundry was a simple task. Put all my clothes into a laundry bag, take said bag to the Laundromat and then pick them up the next day. Overnight, my laundry would be magically cleaned, fluffed and expertly folded so that the only thing I needed to do on my own was put them into the proper drawers in the dresser.

And then came HoBiscuit the Taskmaster.

Now, not only am I supposed to do my own laundry, but I have to do hers as well. And let me tell you understanding the finer points of washing sweaters ( ‘delicate’ cycle only, extra spin and then medium dry) versus delicates (‘gentle’ cycle, low dry) versus blouses (‘gentle’, hang dry) is enough to drive anyone mad. But what makes it even worse is that apparently my clothes don’t warrant such attention. The only excuse she seems willing to give me is that my clothes are somehow ‘stronger’ than hers when it comes to washing care.

Why her jeans need to be carefully and meticulously turned inside out before washing while mine are simply thrown into the washer as is, is beyond me.

But all of that is peanuts when you take into account the horrible affront to my clothings’ civil liberties that HoBiscuit enacts each and every laundry day. It is horrible, simply horrible. Do you know what she’s doing? She’s teaching me to segregate my laundry, you know, separate the colors from the whites? Wasn’t that made illegal with the thirteenth Amendment to the Constitution? I tried that argument with HoBiscuit, but she simply ignored me and went about her business telling me that I should stop my whining and grow up.

Well my friends, I have a Dream.

[begin Martin Luther King, Jr. voice]

I have a Dream.

I have a Dream that one day every Washer shall be exalted, every Bleach and Softener shall be made low, the Dryer Sheet will be made unnecessary, and the Single Loader will be made Double, and the glory of the Laundry shall be revealed, and all Fabrics shall see it together.

I have a Dream that one day, White clothing, and Dark Clothing, and clothes of all the colors of the rainbow can be washed together in peace and harmony.

This is my hope. This is the faith with which I return to the Doing Of Laundry. With this faith I will be able to hew out of the Mountain Of Dirty Clothes a Sock Of Hope. With this faith I will be able to transform the tattered remains of my favorite T-Shirt into a beautiful Sweater. With this faith I will be able to work, to pray, to struggle, and to stand up for righteousness, knowing that my clothes will be free one day.

That will be the day when all of Geek’s clothing will be able to sing with a new meaning, “My clothing, ’tis of thee, sweet clothes that are dirty, of thee I sing. Wash where my colors died, wash of the Snuggles pride, from every Cheer and Tide, let freedom ring.”

Let Freedom Ring!

When we let freedom ring, when we let it ring from every Sit-N-Spin and every Wash-N-Go, from every Bubble Heaven and every Spot-Less, we will be able to speed up that day when all the world’s Clothing, black clothes and white clothes, silk and cotton, nylon and rayon, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Laundromat spiritual,

“Clean at last! Clean at last! Thank God Almighty, we are clean at last!”

[end Martin Luther King, Jr. voice]

I Need A Haircut

• by GeekMan • In Bread, Geek Life •   1

GeekMan is sitting in front of the TV in his underwear playing Unreal Championship. He’s not doing very well and is spending more time cursing the screen as he waits to re-spawn than he is actually playing. Bread enters the room.

“Hey, Bub.”
“Aaaargh!”
“Man, you suck.”
“Sigh. What do you want Bread?”
“Nothing really. I was just wondering if you’re feeling depressed or something?”
“Uh, no. No more than usual, why?”
“Well, me and the girls are a little worried about you. You ain’t been yourself lately.”
“What do you mean, exactly?”
“Well, we’ve all noticed that you’ve been taking longer and longer showers, but you haven’t shaved in over a week.”
“Listen, I’ve told you a thousand times to knock before coming in! And I was… uh, washing my privates, nothing else. I just like to be really, really thorough, is all.”
“Riiiiight. ‘Washing’ your privates. And I guess all that moaning was your reenactment of the ‘Herbal Essence’ commercials, huh?”
“…”
*snicker*
“I really hate you sometimes.”
“Well, forget the showers for now. What about the lack of shaving?”
“Not that it’s any of your business, but I just haven’t felt like shaving lately. I wanted to see what I would look like with a beard.”
“So you want to look like a Neanderthal with the plague?”
“It’s not that bad!”
“Listen to me, you putz. It looks like the roadkill remains of a black badger with Atopic Dermatitis has been stapled to your face.”
“Really?”
“Really, really. And your hair is even worse. When’s the last time you had a haircut?”
“Uh… I don’t know. Maybe last year?”
“And it hasn’t occurred to you that maybe, just maybe you should get it cut? Unless, of course, you enjoy scaring small children at the mall or being mistaken for a dark-haired Yahoo Serious?”
“Egad! I look like a two-bit, Aussie, washed-up-before-he-ever-got-started actor?”
“Not really, no.”
“Whew! You had me scared for a minute there.”
“You remember what Harrison Ford looked like in ‘Raiders of the Lost Ark’?”
“I look like Indiana Jones?”
“No. You make Yahoo look like Indiana Jones.”
“Oh. My. God.”
“That’s what I’m saying.”
“So, you’re saying I need a haircut?”
“And a shave. Don’t forget that.”
“OK. Damn, I didn’t think it was that bad. I guess I should go to the barbershop then.”
“Damn straight, you should.”
“Right. I’ll be back in a couple of hours. Wow, worse than Yahoo. Man, I’m ugly…”

[GeekMan leaves room]

“Hey, Sugah?”
“Yeah, Miss Ex-Boxx?”
“That was real nice of you. I never would have guessed you would care enough about GeekMan to look out for his personal appearance.”
“Are you frickin kidding me? I just wanted to be able to play Unreal Championship. That schmuck’s been playing it for three days straight and I haven’t even touched the damn game yet. At this rate he might actually stand a chance against me when we play against each other on Saturday!”
“Ah.”
“Damn right, ‘Ah’.”
“Bread, you’re one rotten loaf. You know that?”
“You know it, toots. Even got ‘NASTY’ tattooed on my ass. Wanna see?”
“No.”
“Then quit your yappin and load up my ‘Geek Killa’ character so’s I can frag me some virtual losers. I got a reputation to protect!”

Annoy The Geek Day

• by GeekMan • In Geek Life, HoBiscuit, Rants •   7

Sunday was one of those days.

It started out innocently enough, HoBiscuit and I were going to visit the GeekMom, GeekGrandparents and then check on the Ho-Parents house, since they’re away on vacation for three weeks. And, even though it was a cold and rainy day and we didn’t really want to go; we got up early in the morning to pick up MotherGeek. Of course, being the Geek that I am, I knew that my day would involve at least one person I saw demanding that I ‘fix’ something before it was over.

What I didn’t expect was everyone to ask me to fix everything.

GrandmaGeek greeted us at the door with the heartwarming phrase, “That stupid man. He’s driving me crazy!” Quickly followed by the traditional Geek welcome of, “GeekMan, you need to look at the computer…” This soon degenerated into a screaming match between Grandma and GrandpaGeek as they blamed each other for ‘breaking’ the computer. Of course, their idea of a broken computer meant that the shortcut to Mahjong had disappeared and they hadn’t been able to play it in the last 12 hours.

Tragedy.

After ‘fixing’ the computer, I was offered a frozen steak as a reward and then asked to fix their radio, fire alarm, answering machine and telephone. When they began asking if I thought the couch might look better on the other side of the room I grabbed HoBiscuit and MotherGeek and beat a hasty retreat. Just as we were leaving however, GeekMom informed HoBiscuit and I that we just had to visit a friend of hers before we went to HoBiscuits parents house.

That’s when this giant vein on the right side of my forehead began throbbing.

On the way to MotherGeek friends’ house Mom explained a little problem she was having with her cell phone and asked me to take a look at it. Well, by ‘asked me to take a look at it’ I really mean she demanded I fix her phone right then and there, while I was driving and before we got to her friends house.

Throb. Throb.

When we got to her friends’ house we were invited inside under the pretense of seeing her new kitten. And, as if she were the lead in a really bad high school play, she “suddenly” remembered a few computer questions she had conveniently written down on three, legal-paper-sized, college-ruled pieces of paper.

THROB. THROB.

After managing to escape that sub-basement of the lower regions of Hell, HoBiscuit and I drove through almost two hours of traffic to her parents’ house. On the way there, I received two phone calls for tech support from my Uncle and one from a friend. Seeing my growing distress HoBiscuit suggested we stop off at a local Worst Buy and pick up some CD-Rs that were on sale. As we were paying for the CD-Rs I had to explain to the cashier how to scan in the coupons so we would get the proper discount!

Throb. Throb.

Finally, HoBiscuit and I reach her parents house where she needs to check the mail and water the plants. Just as we walk in the door HoBiscuit turns to me and sheepishly asks that I look at her parent’s computer because it’s been giving them some problems lately. And, just as my throbbing vein was about to burst from my skull and drench her with my life’s blood as I collapsed to the floor in a convulsing heap, she kisses me and says,

“You’re the best, most patient and loveable man in the whole wide world. I love you.”

Oh sure, I knew it was a ploy to get me to fix her parent’s computer without getting angry at her. And I also knew that it meant the computer was probably FUBARed and it would take me hours to fix as I sat in their ice-cold home wondering if both my testicles would freeze solid, or just the weaker one as they fought for the squatting rights to my body’s gonad cavity. I knew all this and yet I still found myself smiling back at her and agreeing to fix the computer no matter how long it took or how cold I was. And do you know why everyone treats me this way and why I always find myself fixing things for people no matter how annoying inconvenient or time consuming it might be for me?

That’s right. Because I’m stupid, that’s why.

THROB. THROB.

Ending The Toilet War

• by GeekMan • In Rants •   14

What is it with women and toilet seats?

Why is it so hard for women to understand that men pee standing up? Don’t they realize that if the seat is down that a man must make the effort to pick the seat up before he can relieve himself? The extra 3 seconds that takes can be crucial to proper bladder release. The basic law of gravity makes it clear that it takes less energy to put something down than pick it up, so I can only conclude that women are selfish and unreasonable when it comes to toilet etiquette.

But I have a solution.

I propose that from this day forward men and women must put both the toilet seat and the toilet cover down after every use. This will end the war once and for all while also having three clearly beneficial results.

  1. Regardless of whom makes the stinky, closing the lid will help contain the smell while being flushed. Men, you are allowed 30 seconds in which to admire the size, shape, construction and possible weight of that spectacular anal bomb you just burst a vein forcibly expulsing from your sphincter. If said poo is truly noteworthy, you are allowed one picture to show friends and family at reunions, family gatherings and the like.
  2. Everyone will now need to lift at least one item before they can actually use the toilet. Women and men will thus be on equal footing and further arguments will be avoided.
  3. Closing the lid will help cure the universally disgusting affliction of, Oops! I just dropped the ______ in the toilet! syndrome. Finally, bathroom items such as toothbrushes, soap, razors, eyeglasses, books, lipstick and such will be safe from a death worse than fate. Drowning in a pool of rancid water as a human looks down pondering whether the item is worth getting their hands dirty to retrieve or would flushing solve the problem. What a horrible way to go.

In conclusion, from this day forward, I decree that all toilets in the world must be lidded when not in use. Anyone found breaking this law will suffer the consequences, which have not yet been determined but will be suitably nasty enough that merely mentioning them will result screams of terror, or at least a momentary loss of bladder control.

Oh, and here’s a picture of some naked Boobies.

Dealing With The Devil

• by GeekMan • In Geek Life, Rants •   3

I really hate Micro$oft.

I was hoping to avoid using Micro$oft products as much as possible with my new computer, but today I had to crumble and purchase Office XP in order to secure some work coming up in December. It’s not that I have anything against Micro$oft per say, it’s just that I have this allergic reaction to the covert collection and dissemination of my personal and private information without my permission by large, faceless, big-brother type corporations via invasive ‘product registration’.

Makes me break out in hives, it does.

Anywaste, after doing a quick search online, I found that the cheapest price for Office XP Standard was around $390. I paid $350, thanks to a discount, and should receive my copy of this thinly disguised attack on my private information and personal identity tomorrow. To me, the price isn’t too unreasonable especially since I make a living using this stuff, but ever since the economy started spiraling down the toilet I’ve noticed that a lot of people are trying to save money however they can.

So I’m going to offer the world some free advice.

When you next order a computer do not have it pre-loaded with Micro$oft Office. Instead, try OpenOffice.org’s office suite, which is free, and see if you can live with it instead. As someone who is a power user of Micro$oft Office, I can honestly say that I didn’t miss a thing when I used OOO’s version of Word, Outlook and Excel and I doubt anyone would really notice the difference after only a single week of use. If it weren’t for the fact that my clients depend on PowerPoint slideshows for their meetings, I probably wouldn’t have ever even thought about buying Office again, so I heartily recommend the OOO product.

But wait, there’s more.

You see, hypothetically speaking, if someone were to discover that they absolutely, positively, needed to have Office in order to live, then I would still say to them, do not get Office pre-installed. Instead, still hypothetically speaking of course, go to your local software shop and purchase the Student version of Office. Now, I would never do such a thing myself because that would be ‘wrong’ and ‘deceitful’, but I have heard whispers of other, less virtuous, Geeks who have done this very thing. These scandalous characters have let it be known throughout all of Geekdom that the Student version of Office is the same full featured set of applications one gets when purchasing Office Standard, but at a massively discounted price of only $130.

Makes one wonder why Standard costs so much, no?

At Least I Tried

• by GeekMan • In Geek Life, Rants, Wedding •   3

“Hello.”
“Hi. My name is GeekMan and I’m calling to find out some information about hosting a wedding at your facilities.”
“Certainly, Miss GeekMan. And congratulations. What would you like to know?”
“Uh, my name is GeekMan. I’m not a miss, I’m a mister.”
“Oh! I’m terribly sorry, sir. For a moment there you sounded like a… Ah, what I meant to say is that I’ve been dealing with women all morning and I just went on autopilot there for a moment. Ha. Ha.”
[Dr. Evil voice] “Riiiiiight.”
“Ahem, so, how can I help you, sir?”
“I’d like to know how many people you can accommodate, the estimated price per person and whether you’re available on [date] next year.”
“…”
“Hello?”
“Yes, I’m still here. I was just wondering, are you sure you’re not a girl?”
“What?”
“Well, it’s just that the guys usually avoid this tedious task of calling around to get the price lists of reception sites.”
“So?”
“And, well… You really sound like a woman.”
“I do not! I’ll have you know I have a very manly voice. It’s just this cheap phone…”
“So you don’t really sound as nasal and whiny in person?”
“Whiny?!? Nasal?!? I do not whine!”
“See? Right there. That was a definite whine.”
“Was not!”
“Yes, it was. Now tell the truth, you’re a lesbian couple, aren’t you?”
“No! I’m a man and I’m marrying my fiance! Now stop with the insults and tell me your prices so I can turn you down and hang up already.”
“You’re really not a girl?”
“Yes.”
“Swear?”
“Yeah, I swear. I’m not a girl. I’m a guy, with a really big penis, ok?”
“…”
“Oh for crying out loud. Now what?”
“Have you ever seen ‘My Cousin Vinny’?”
“Yeah, why?”
“You sounded just like the woman from that movie. You know, ‘My biological clock is ticking like this…’?”
“Marisa Tomei?”
“Yeah! Her! You sounded just like her. All nasal and stuff.”
“I can’t believe this.”
“She’s awesome. I loved that movie. Come on, say that line. Say it.”
“I will do no such thing, you wacko!”
“Oooo! I love the Sopranos! Tell me you’re gonna whack somebody. Do it!”
“Listen, I just called to get the price list. If that’s inconvenient right now, I could always call again after you’ve seen a shrink or something.”
“Now you’re Woody Allen! You’re great!”
“No! I’m not doing impersonations! I just want the frickin price list, you psychopathic woman!”
“You want the price list?”
“Yes!”
“No price list until you do De Niro.”
“What?”
“You heard me. You want the list, I want De Niro.”
“That… That’s blackmail!”
“Whatever. Come on, say something like De Niro does in Analyze This.”
“This is crazy…”
“Come on! Ooo! I know! Do that line from Taxi Driver!”
[hangs up phone]
“Hello? Hello?”
“Did he hang up?”
“Yep.”
“Not bad. Three minutes and 28 seconds, the longest time a guy’s put up with your crap. He must have really needed this price list.”
“Ha! I bet he gets into deep crapola with his fiance for not getting our price list.”
“Poor schmuck.”
“Yeah, I almost feel sorry for him.”
[both together] “ALMOST!”
“Hahahahahahahahaha!”

Your Honor, I Can Explain

• by GeekMan • In Geek Life, HoBiscuit, Poetry, Rants •   2

The life of a Geek is never normal.

Let me give you an example. Saturday night a whole bunch of friends came over to visit HoBiscuit and I in our new apartment for the very first time. We had food and drink and a massive X-Box Halo bloodfest. By the end of the night there was a whole lot of garbage that needed to be disposed of, including the battered and bloody egos of some of my friends when Bread showed up unannounced and trashed us all using only the wimpy Needler. It wasn’t until everyone had left that I remembered garbage collection day was not until Tuesday night! That meant I would have to hold on to the three large & smelly bags of trash for three whole days before I could throw them away.

This was absolutely unacceptable to the dainty and cleanly HoBiscuit.

In a fit of devilishly clever brilliance my sweet woman not only devised a method of throwing out the trash on our non-trash day, but also figured out how to do it without getting her own hands dirty in the process.

“Honey?”
“Yes, my sweet HoBiscuit?”
“Are you going to bed now?”
“Well, seeing as how I’m in my pajamas in our completely dark bedroom and lying next to you in our soft & warm bed, I would think the answer is obvious.”
“Aren’t you afraid that the garbage will attract bugs?”
“There’s not much I can do about it right now, sweetie. It’s not our garbage night.”
“…”
“…”
“Honey?”
“Yes, sweetie?”
“Are you the Man?”
“…”
“Well?”
“I’m wondering if my answer will improve my chances of getting lucky tonight.”
“That all depends on your answer.”
“I see.”
“So, are you the Man?”
“With the understanding that I know I’m digging a hole for myself, even if I don’t know exactly how yet, I have to say ‘yes’. I am the Man. Why?”
“Because real men take out the garbage.”

And that, ladies and gentlemen of the court, explains why I was wandering the streets at four AM on a Sunday morning in the rain, wearing nothing but my pajamas, holding three giant-sized, black trash bags and cursing my ‘Ho’. Now, if it will please the court, I would like to take a moment to pound these shards of broken glass into my own gonads using a rubber mallet while chanting “I Am Not The Man” to the tune of the Lumberjack Song.

I am not the Man
And that’s OK
I treat her right
Till I go insane…

An Open Letter To USPS

• by GeekMan • In Rants •   5

Dear USPS Person,

I am writing you this note in the hopes of clarifying a couple of confounding conundrums that have cropped up ever since your delivery of Big Ugly Brown Box A, or BUBBA, at my address. Now, while I’m completely satisfied with the speed at which BUBBA appeared at my door, and everything contained within BUBBA appears to be working properly, I am a little confused about the package itself. You see, my goods were originally shipped in a Small Nice Off-White Package, or SNOW P for short.

Perhaps you can now see my confusion.

SNOW P was shipped on Monday morning, with my very expensive electronic home theater component safely and snugly packaged within. Plenty of Styrofoam, bubble-wrap and other anti-damage precautions were used to make sure said audio component would arrive at my door in one piece and without harm. I know this because the component was shipped to me in the manufacturers original box and they pride themselves in their attention to shipping procedure for their products.

Yet, it was BUBBA that arrived at my door Tuesday evening. Hmmmm.

I can only conclude that, sometime between getting picked up and being dropped off, something tragic happened to SNOW P. Perhaps, on your way to your usual delivery route, you were abducted by aliens and subjected to weird, sexual experiments and were able to escape only after discovering the aliens’ inherent fear of white cardboard. Or, maybe you were caught in a freak llama stampede in Queens and, recalling a story you read in National Geographic while sitting on the toilet, knew that the only way to survive was to use a white cardboard box as a shield to ward off the angry llamas.

You know, Captain America style.

In any case, SNOW P disappeared and BUBBA rose up to take its place. I’m not disparaging BUBBA, because I’m sure that BUBBA is a fine cardboard box, but it does puzzle me that BUBBA is so amazingly large. In comparison to SNOW P, BUBBA is frickin huge! To put this into perspective, BUBBA looks to be able to accommodate an item roughly the size of a 42” TV, while SNOW P was roughly the size of a DVD player.

Double Hmmmm.

Now, all of this would have been fine if it weren’t for one other teensy, tiny problem with BUBBA. You must understand that the audio component contained within SNOW P was very expensive and fragile, which would explain its unusually high level of anti-damage packaging. One would think that if SNOW P had somehow become damaged beyond repair in transit, that upon seeing the amount of precautionary packaging around said audio component, whoever it was that repackaged it within BUBBA would have taken great care to keep it safe from harm.

But alas, this was not to be.

Contained within BUBBA were some connection wires, the user manual and my very expensive audio component. That’s all. No bubble-wrap, or Styrofoam, or any anti-damage precautions besides air pressure and prayer. The simple fact that my component works at all is a testament to the manufacturers build quality and not to BUBBA’s usefulness as a protective measure.

In essence, BUBBA sucks.

In light of all of the above, I would like to make a suggestion for you should you ever need to re-pack something else in the future. Feel free to share this bit of wisdom with your fellow delivery people and, in fact, with any and all people you might ever come into contact with who are sending a package through the mail.

There’s no such thing as too much Styrofoam and/or bubble-wrap.

Now, lest you believe this is the end of this, let me assure you that the manufacturer and I are going to be lodging formal complaints with the USPS. And, just in case you decided to skip the rest of this letter and only read the last paragraph or two, let me sum up this letter in 25 words or less, just for you.

Use your frickin brains, Jackhole. It says ‘fragile’ right on the frickin box, you frickin stupid frick.

Thank you.

Sincerely,
GeekMan

Blog Star

• by GeekMan • In Poetry •   16

Blatent parody of All Star by Smash Mouth.

Somebody once told me
The world would never know me
I ain’t the sharpest wit on the web
She was looking kinda smug
With my hit count in a slump
When the light came back on in my forehead

Well, the words start coming and they don’t stop coming
Post to the world and I keep the post funny
Didn’t make sense not to write for fun
Your crap gets laughs but your best gets none
So what’s with you?
So what’s to say?
So what’s wrong with talking to pastry?
You’ll never know if you don’t toast
You’ll never shine if you don’t post

Hey Now
You’re a Blog Star
Get your Web Log
Web Page
Hey Now
You’re a Blog Star
Get your wish list
Get paid

All that traffic is gold
Hope this stupid song breaks the mold

It’s a dumb site and they say it’s not funny
You think it’s bad now? wait till I get money
But the Mighty Geek site begs to differ
Judging by the lack of some Mighty Fan pictures
The rhymes I make are getting pretty thin
The llama’s gonna swarm and I like to play Sims
My word’s are fine, how about yours?
That’s the way I like it so I’ll never get bored

Hey Now
You’re a Blog Star
Get your camera
Web date
Hey Now
You’re a Blog Star
Get your wish list
Get paid

All that traffic is gold
Only funny guys get the girls

Hey Now
You’re a Blog Star
Got your Web Log?
FrontPage
Hey Now
You’re a Blog Star
Get your wish list
Get paid

All that traffic is gold
Only looting songs

Somebody once asked
Could I be a psychopath?
I need to get myself committed today
I said heck, what a concept
I could post about my mental health
And we could all laugh another day

Well, the words start coming and they don’t stop coming
Post to the world and I keep the post funny
Didn’t make sense not to write for fun
Your crap gets laughs but your best gets none
So what’s with you?
So what’s to say?
So what’s wrong with talking to pastry?
You’ll never know if you don’t toast
You’ll never shine if you don’t post

Hey Now
You’re a Blog Star
Get your dream job
L.A.
Hey Now
You’re a Blog Star
Get your wish list
Get paid

All that traffic is gold
Only shooting stars drop a load
All that traffic is gold
Hope this stupid song breaks the mold

What Could Have Been

• by GeekMan • In Geek Life •   1

I thought it would be funny.

I spent a few hours doing the necessary research, finding all the correct names, places and faces for the gag. Got everything I needed together into a folder on my computer and started writing. As usual, I was giggling as I wrote, ignoring the ‘tsk, tsk, tsk’ sounds coming from the nice men in white coats as they observed me through the one way mirror on the wall.

I couldn’t actually see them, but I knew they were there just the same.

A little after noon today, as I was getting ready to entertain the white-coats by screaming at my left eyelid to stop blinking out of sync with my right, I happened to click over to CNN and read the news.

The suspected snipers are in custody. Damn.

Well, not damn, because it’s actually a good thing that they caught them. But damn for me because by catching these idiots they have inadvertently destroyed today’s post. You see, I was going to write a whole ‘Dear Police Chief Charles Moose’ letter explaining who the snipers were and why they were doing it. I had formed a conspiracy theory involving George T. Shaheen and Julie Wainwright, the CEOs of Webvan and Pets.com respectively, and one very angry sock puppet. They were on a mission of righteous redemption, needing to prove once and for all that their failed dot coms would work if people were given the right incentive to stay home and have their food and pet supplies delivered to them.

No, no. Think about it.

Who had white vans to spare? Who would want people to stay home and have their food delivered? Who’s got nothing but time? Who’s angry at the world in general?

Sock puppets and CEOs, that’s who.

I still think it would have been funny, but that’s all over now. They caught the real people, so my pathetic attempt at humor will have to be put into the attic and mothballed for now. One day though, when it’s aged to perfection like a fine wine, my Sock Puppet Sniper story will resurface to take the humor Blogs, and thus the world, by storm.

Look out George and Julie, I’m watching you. Like a hawk.