The intellectual equivalent of a ham sandwich.

Posts tagged ‘moron’

Attn: Ellen (2/13/19)




Back (apologies for my handwriting!)



The text of the postcard is

Dear Ellen,

You know that thing where a 3 year old sorta speaks English, but you also have to look to the parents to say ‘please translate.’ I wonder if it’s like that for any new White House communications directory, chief of staff, etc.

OR @DumbFunnery

Why am I doing this?



Ask a Moron: Do I Have Legionnaire’s Disease?

Great question, and I’ve got some great answers.

Are you now, or have you ever been a part of a legion? Then you probably have it. Follow-up question, what is a legion? Again, great question! It’s like a group of guys I think, probably French or into French stuff. Follow-up follow-up, what does it mean to be into French stuff? Do you like cigarettes and looking disdainful, or how about long thin breads? Then yep, you’re into French stuff.

When you hear the word ‘legend’ or ‘legendary’ do you recoil? You probably have legionnaire’s disease. (You are recoiling because the legions that combine to form this evil entity in your body known as Legionnaire are afraid of legendary things happening.)

Wait, you ask, there is an entity in my body known as Legionnaire? I don’t know. Maybe.

How dumb are you, you ask disdainfully? Who’s dumber, me or you, with your stupid legionnaire’s disease?

Am I just some rude jerk? Good question, your mom asked the same … LAST NIGHT.

And now a question for you: why are you walking away from me? Come back. Please. My defense mechanisms are strong and self-defeating and … you’re gone.


Do you like this movie? If so, you probably have Legionnaire’s disease.

By Source, Fair use, Link


Weekly Wacko (51)

I’m A Jerk

Yes. It’s true. I’m a jerk. Sometimes deliberately, more often without knowing it (I am a very stereotypical boy/engineer/moron).

There was one time I was a jerk with a publishing effort though. It’s pretty bad.

When I was living in California I saw a book called In Me Own Words: The Autobiography of Bigfoot. I picked it up and glanced at it and it struck me as very quirky humor that I loved. Fantastic.

A book I read about trying to get published recommended that, when I see a book I like or that I find similar to my style (whatever that is), I should look at the publisher and try to find the author’s agent in the acknowledgements section.

I looked and this book was published by Manic D Press, which was, gasp!, in San Francisco! This, I thought, is a sign. Seriously, I really thought this was a good omen. It’s a good thing I don’t live outside New York City (where there are about 5 billion publishers and literary agents) because I’d constantly be getting my hopes dashed.

Anyhow. I looked up Manic D Press’s site and I noticed that the quirky/fun/humor books were in the minority of their publications. Nevertheless, I thought I had a good chance with a small publishing house. I could write a sincere query letter that would get me noticed and they’d invite me up for an interview and find my awkward, nervous, rambling self charming for God knows what reason and … wha-la. Dream accomplished.

Manic D recommended people to read some of their published works, and talk about them in their query letter. They wanted to make sure your work jives with their overall style. Can do, I thought. I was in downtown Mountain View and I noticed Fears of Your Life by Michael Bernard Loggins.

If you know about this book you can go ahead and cringe.

I picked up the book, glanced through it, and loved it. It was yet another quirky, charming, oddball bit of humor. The author had, in his own handwriting, written fears he had for just about everything. I identified with a few of them, and it cracked me up. I bought the book and was crafting the query letter to Manic D in my head.

A few weeks later I finally got around to writing and sending the query letter. I wrote to Manic D about my haiku collection. I am proud of the haiku set, and I have a few that are San Francisco-specific, which I thought would be neat. Again, daydreams flowed about readings in weird little book stores in San Francisco.

Months after that I was at some sort of outdoor art and book festival in San Francisco near the De Young Museum. One of the tables was for Manic D, and my friend urged me to go talk with them. I declined and pulled her aside, telling her about my query letter and my big gaffe.

A month or so after I sent the query letter I was still waiting for a response. I was wondering if I’d made some obvious mistake on my query letter, so I re-read it. It seemed ok to me. I pulled out the books to make sure they were both from Manic D Press. For the first time I looked at the back of Fears of Your Life.

On the back of the book, in plain sight (whoops), is this: “Michael Bernard Loggins, an adult with developmental disabilities, battles his fears by listing more than one hundred of them.”

I change my mind, I’m promoting myself to an ass-hole.

De Jour of the Week (6/20/10)


I re-read this poem and it makes me sound very crotchet-y old man-like. That’s only partly true. Really it’s just fun to make fun of loud, trampy 13 year old kids.

Ode to the Mall Food Court

It’s Saturday afternoon and I’ve got nothing to do
I make a decision that I’ll soon rue
Yes, I’m on my way to the mall
To window shop and have a real ball.

Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
You’re 13 years old for God’s sake,
So put some damn clothes on.

I arrive and holy cow look at that parking lot
I’m liable to rot before I find a spot
Aha!, a spot!, there, by the Sears
Please don’t walk in the middle of the street my-could-you-walk-any-slower dears.

The parking lot experience is now behind me
And I’m approaching the mall entrance quickly
What treasures will I find here today
And at what overpriced prices will I get to pay.

I’m in the body of the mall, looking for one of those maps
How long until Apple has a ‘You Are Here’ mall map apps?
The video game store is calling to me first
Then some Sbarro for pizza I always think will be better than it is, and a drink to quench my thirst.

“Excuse me,” the gaggle of ten year olds move aside
I feel awkwardly old and tall – yes, I’m an adult that likes the ‘Star Wars Legos’ game, don’t be snide.
With a new, used video game in my hands
I’m heading to the food court to let mall-food grease fill my glands.

Are those shorts, or are you wearing a wedgie?
Shouldn’t you have hit puberty before owning a shirt with the playboy bunny?
I’m in the food court, and I’m having trouble getting around
These teenagers are dressed like idiots, and they make so much sound.

Where are the parents, where is someone not on a cell!
Jeans that skinny can’t be serving your, you know, that well.
I’m in line for my pizza and I’m overhearing some ‘conversations’
The future is bright! It’s hopeful! … But I’ve got my reservations.

I survived the mall, which is saying something
And I’ll admit I’m judgmental and harsh – but not over nothing.
People, please, make your sons and daughters wear pants that fit –
And parents who dress like those kids – you look dumb as shit.

Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
You’re 13 years old for God’s sake,
So put some damn clothes on.

Copyright 2010 Brad Stanley

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