Category Archives: General Satire

The American Scab Dream: Will Work for Congressional Crumbs

Is it just me, or has anyone else noticed that our rapidly ailing Democracy is suffering from schizophrenia? My other 16 personalities tend to agree.

Our Democracy, the best form of government money can buy (just ask China), flexed its bipartisan bipolar muscle Friday night as the possibility of a government shutdown loomed over Corporate Hill. While watching whether our Do Nothing Congress was going to let the ball drop on the budget at the midnight hour, 16/17 of me wanted them to reach an agreement, thus averting the worst teabaggin’ in U.S. History.

Besides, that’s their damn job and why We’re paying these folks, right? Congress is the only profession in America that, due to its own incompetence, can legally allow itself to shut down while elected members still receive a paycheck without having to wait in an unemployment line.

Meanwhile, the other 1/17 of the multiple me, myselves and I wanted the government to shut down. If anything, I wanted to see how a shutdown would affect the free market, namely whether a spike in pitchforks and V (from Vendetta) mask sales would follow in the shutdown’s wake. You see, I’ve been harboring a secret fantasy of becoming a U.S. Senator without having to go through all the hassles of having to run a campaign and prostitute myself to raise money for potential lobbyists pimps. After all, Congressional members are merely “Indentured Servants,” who serve corporate interests in exchange for campaign contributions, under-the-table Swedish massages and ringside seats at WWE Smackdown main events.

Had the government shut down, I could have slipped in through the chamber back door and become a Scab Senator, filling one of my representatives’ spots on the floor.

The Next Rat In: D.C or Bust!

HELP WANTED: Scab Lawmakers

Job Description: Now hiring 535 temporary workers to fill striking lawmakers’ seats in Washington, D.C. Qualified applicants will be responsible for maintaining the status quo politics-as-usual; which include but is not limited to maintaining three war fronts, keep pretending health care costs will level off some day, sign blank checks to Military Industrial Complex, create more jobs overseas, pilfer Social Security cash box when nobody’s looking, craft more unconstitutional laws that will make judicial branch look like they’re legislating from the bench when they overturn them 10 years down the road, occasionally rotate environmental issues on backburners, add a new page to the tax code every day and write mean-spirited press releases that call members on the other side of aisle mean, albeit outdated names like Commie Stooge, Socialist, Right Wingnut, Bleeding-Heart Liberal, and Poopy-Head Jerk Face.

Qualifications: A pulse (formerly possessing a pulse will suffice, so as not to discriminate against current dead weight and card-carrying Zombies serving in Congress).

First 100 minutes: Since my livelihood on the Hill will be basking in uncertainty, should a scab opportunity ever arise, I will have to act fast — something that completely bucks the current dysfunctional system in D.C. That said I plan on sponsoring the following bills during my first 100 minutes in office.

I, Scab Senator Lindsey, hereby sponsor the following bills:

-Permanently banish “politics-as-usual” from the political lexicon, not just in name only;

-Make the Unites States a neutral country and auction the Pentagon on e-Bay;

-Move the White House and Corporate Hill to the center of the country, somewhere in the rural Midwest, and build a shark-infested mote around the perimeter to keep lobbyists from preying on my fellow scabs;

-Let Texas succeed from the Union, thus whitewashing the historical implications of 3 illegal wars enacted by Texas-born presidents;

-Continually broadcasting “Ally ally oxen free! Come out come out wherever you are!” around the globe until Osama bin Laden comes out of hiding and multinational corporations return jobs and tax-sheltered money they’ve hidden overseas.

Unfortunately, Congress and President Obama rammed a blunt pitchfork through my dreams at the 11th hour, so it looks like it’s back to my current government job (at least 7/16th of me) and politics-as-usual in D.C. on Monday.

Top Ten Charlie Sheen Tweets

Since I vowed to give Charlie Sheen up for Lent, I was disappointed in this week’s topic for David Letterman’s “Late Show” Online Top Ten Contest. I know that times have been tough for the embattled former “Two-and-a-Half Men” actor, whose off-camera antics have put Qaddafi and Wisconsin Gov. Scott Walker on the media’s back burners, where Lindsay Lohan is simmering as she prepares herself for a reprisal of the “Caged Heat” B-movie series.

Upon entering the Estranged Actor Relocation Program, Charlie Sheen wasn’t going to delve into oblivion alone, and like Qaddafi (who is reported to fill Sheen’s shoes on “Two and a Half Men” as part of his agreement to step down) vowed to take as many followers down with him via twitter, hoping to smash the world record for followers lured in to Twitter lair in the fastest time possible. He had nearly 2.5 million Followers upon publication of this post.

Now, like Charlie, I am human and couldn’t help but jump on the tweet bandwagon and took a few tweets at Charlie’s expense, although the following was out of genuine concern for his mental health:

Does Charlie Sheen have Tropic Thunder Syndrome & suffering from Vietnam War flashbacks from playing soldier in Platoon?

I made a big mistake coming here, Grandma. I thought it was going to be just a movie.

That said I will play the Late Show’s game at Charlie Sheen’s expense before the fast begins. But I am not going alone, Dear Reader. I’m soliciting your help – or not. I’ve written ten possible entries for this week’s list, and it’s up to you to help me select the CHOSEN ONE from the list (for I can omit one) that you think has the best chance of winning.

This Week’s Topic: Top Ten Charlie Sheen Tweets

10. Aaaaarrggghhh…me loves the smell of tigers’ blood in the mornin’.

9. Went to Haiti to help out, only to find I was put in charge of collecting donations for Charlie Sheen Relief Fund.

8. The first step toward recovery is admitting that everyone else is bat-shit crazy.

7. Being unemployed is not all that bad.

6. Who said Frosted Flakes drenched in tiger’s blood is just for kids?

Tiger Blood's Greaaaaaaaaat...!

5. Received offer to direct porn parody of “Two and a Half Men.” Hope I can cast John Bobbitt.

4. If CBS does cast Qaddafi to replace me, they’d better call show “Two-and-a-Half Dictators” or I will take all of heir sorry asses down.

3. “You know it’s hard out there for a pimp…”

2. Just because two-and-a-half million people are following me doesn’t mean I’m paranoid. Does it?

1. If only I hadn’t lost my What Would President Josiah Bartlet Do? bracelet…

Don’t forget to indicate (in the Comments) which ONE of these I should submit to the Top Ten Contest.

Qaddafi’s To Do List

Dude, Where's my Regime?

Qaddafi’s To Kill Do List

Update profile on Muslim dating site Mawada, changing my love handle to “BBW Miriam Jasmine Seeks Revolutionary for Killlllllllller NSA Fun”

Launch presidential exploratory committee in U.S. and see how long it takes majority of Americans to figure out I cannot constitutionally run for president

Launder rest of money stuffed between mattresses through self-righteous American pop stars

Finish application to Tea Party Evil Dictator Relocation Program and send materials to rural Pakistan P.O. Box

Revise “Cuckoo for Qaddafi” press releases to U.S., pulling pull back on previously overstated craziness so Charlie Sheen and Lindsey Lohan remain in media spotlight

Prepare for afterlife by ordering more lifetime prescriptions of hallucinogenics

Make law stripping Rebel Alliances' collective bargaining rights and sitting-on-and-posing-for-media-tank breaks

Push paperwork through promoting me from Colonel to General God

Return calls to FOX television to discuss their offer for own show filling Glenn Beck’s spot

Rebuild previously destroyed Weapons of Mass Destruction in garage

Send sympathy cards to Gov. Scott Walker, Charlie Sheen, Glenn Beck and Job

Cut off all modes of communication to outside world, order loyalist thugs to kill everyone that’s not killing everyone, stomp out anything that threatens my power, squelch any notions of civil rights, then call underground press conference to blame the United States for escalating all the misbegotten turmoil in my country

Why Do Sharks Hate Our American Way of Life?

The "War on Terror"

While America’s Homeland Insecurity focused most of its attention on strip-searching potential terrorists at airport terminals in 2010, the biggest threat of terrorism managed to swim under the radar undetected and attacked 32 unsuspecting Americans in our homewaters.

By terrorist, I’m not talking about your run-of-the-mill firebrand of terrorists such as Al-Qaeda, BP Oil, or a beached Rush Limbaugh; rather, I’m talking about, Chief Martin Brody forbid, Sharks!

Dudum…

That’s right, sharks. US researchers reported 79 unprovoked shark attacks on humans last year, 32 of which were on Americans. The big question is why these amphibious terrorists are disproportionally preying on Americans when compared to our fleshy global counterparts. In essence: Why do they hate our way of life?

Dudum…

Now I’ll be the first to admit that, thanks to Steven’s Spielberg’s anti-shark propaganda attack in 1976 (i.e. “Jaws”), I hate sharks. Don’t get me wrong though; I’m not a sharkist by any means. Some of my best friends are land sharks.

But when I first saw “Jaws” on the big screen at the impressionable age of eight, sharks scared the shit out of me, thus opening a can of deep seeded, irrational fears. I refused to bathe in the bath tub for months afterward, thinking baby sharks were bred in the sewers of my landlocked habitat and would swim up through the drain and take a bite out of my budding manhood. While at summer camp at a peaceful resort, similar to the one in the “Friday the 13th” flicks (which came out later and stoked new fears of sleeping with hot, scantily-clad girls in the woods at night), I was convinced that there were fresh-water sharks circling under me, deciding whose turn it was to gnaw on my dangling legs, while I waited for the water-ski rope to return. The only things I hated more than sharks during those pre-pubescent years were Brussels sprouts and “The Lawrence Welk Show.”

Dudum…

I’m sure I’m not alone in my hatred for these dorsal-finned, man-hating killing bastards, so it’s no wonder sharks aren’t too fond of us either. Maybe that and the fact that humans kill an average of 30 to 70 million sharks a year. Besides the obvious motive of revenge, a University of Florida’s international shark attack report contends that the terrorist attack rate is going up in America due to a rise in population, coupled with a rising interest in aquatic recreation. But this simplistic “Us versus Them” analysis merely serves to drown out the truth, something SSF’s investigative journalists had no choice but to uncover, harpoon and expose to the public.

Du du du du du du…

Real Reasons Why Sharks Are Increasingly Terrorizing Americans & Threatening Our Drylander Way of Life

1. Americans are fat and juicy: Got Americans? Why settle for a lean piece of meat elsewhere when you can sink your teeth into a bobbing, buoyant, fatty slab of all-American meat. Can’t blame them, now can we.

2. It’s the economy, stupid!

3. Jaws IV sequel?: rumors have been surfacing down under that yet another Jaws sequel is in the works.

4. Recent spike in politicians jumping the shark: potential GOP Presidential wannabes are lining up to see who can best jump the shark as they ramp up their bid by channeling Ronald Reagan to see who among them is the Real Conservative candidate.

A young Mitt Romney makes his second bid to jump the shark.

5. Want bite out of 15 minutes of fame: as they audition for the Discovery Channels ever-popular “Shark Week” – the “American Idol” of the underwater shark world.

Despite the jump in shark attacks and the growing sharkist mentality in America, there have been some recent strides in building tolerance among Drylanders towards sharks.

-Card sharks, once viewed in a negative light in the Vegas desert, became less derogatory in the late ’80 thanks to the tamed game show “Card Sharks.” Moreover, the growing popularity of Texas Hold’Em made poker a televised “sport” and card sharks evolved into professional card players, who hide their beady little shark eyes behind Blue Bloc sunglasses, so other players can’t smell the blood leading to their tarnished souls.

-Loan sharks — despised by many-a-poor man down on his luck and loathed for charging exorbitant usury rates (an act condemned by “The Bible”) to its customers — are now called “Credit Lenders”.

-The success of UNLV Runnin’ Rebels basketball coach, Jerry Tarkanian (a.k.a. ‘Tark the Shark”) who gained notoriety for habitually chewing on gym towels (dipped in human blood, presumably) during stressful moments during the game.

-When the sharks’ house band Great White covered “Once Bitten, Twice Shy” in 1989 and the single drew blood at #5 on the Billboard Hot 100.

Great White: “Once Bitten, Twice Shy”

Resurrecting Say Something Funny One Tweet at a Time

After months of neglecting this blog, Say Something, the D.I.S. (Department of Inhuman Services) finally stepped in, DIS’ed me and threatened to take my blog away unless I started producing. Truth be known, I was recently voted kicked off The Island of Misfit Blogs by that stupid King Moonracer and his Misbegotten Blogger minions.

King Moonracer poses with finalist bloggers on Island of Misfit Blogs (Not Pictured: Say Something Funny)

The Boomerang-of-Hate comes back to hit Mel Gibson upside the head, when he was added to the "no-fly" list while trying to board a flight from LA to Australia.

Therapist Bob suggested this was a tell-tale sign that I needed to resurrect Say Something Funny. He also suggested that I wait three full days, so the blog’s rebirth would be grounded in biblical allusions. Thanks, but no thanks, Therapist Bob. I’ve seen Mel “Serpent Tongue” Gibson’s “The Passion of the Christ” to know that’s not a sound piece of advice. (I still think I could make bank selling W.W.M.S? (What Would Mel Spew?) bracelets…)

For months now, Say Something Funny has been on life support and WordPress was about to pull the plug, until word-of-social media got out and made its rounds up on Corporate Hill in D.C. via Twitter. News of Say Something Funny’s imminent peril spread like wildfire and bubbling brimstone among the Right to Cyber-Lifers, who recently hijacked the House — killing Democracy in the crossfire. Rest in Peace, Democracy; you’ll be missed.

As if struck by a miracle, these folks, temporarily blinded by humanity, put their pitchforks aside and came to my rescue. Overwhelmed by their willingness to sacrifice their time obstructing bills, writing new bills that will thwart the recent spread of civil rights and taking turns washing the Tea Baggers’ soiled tea bags by hand, Say Something Funny had no other choice but to unhook the artificial breathing apparatus and begin breathing on its own.

To help facilitate the resurrection and inspire a revolution, I’ve decided to call upon Twitter, who has agreed to tweet down from the mountain and spend time away from the burning bush before the rest of its eyebrows are completely singed. Now to build a following one tweet at a time… Well, that and actually producing material that will keep the minions coming back for more…

Initial Tweet: Vive Say Something Funny! Building a satiric revolution one tweet at a time…

Be sure to follow Say Something Funny on Twitter.

And stayed tuned for the inaugural post and The Daily Tweet T’wit (To wit)…

Zombie Hate-Crime Pierces Heartland of America

It was only a matter of time before America’s love/hate relationship for the dead would rear its ugly head. America’s growing addiction to living vicariously through the dead — namely vampires, zombies and Keanu Reeves – took a stake in the heart last weekend in my hometown Iowa City, when an alleged zombie was physically assaulted at a restaurant for breaking dead Jim Crow laws, which were supposedly buried over fifty year ago – only to be resurrected in the 21st century.

In regard to mainstream America’s pop-lust for zombies (e.g. “Shaun of the Dead,” “Zombieland,” and The Rolling Stones), this lust has been fed from a distance, usually through two-dimensional mediums – unless you get your fix through a plasma television. But now that zombies are feeling more comfortable in their decaying, leathery skin, they are more inclined to come out of the idiot-box and expose themselves to the mainstream public, slowly dragging themselves across tabooed invisible lines and intermingling with the living.

“Brainnnzzzzzz…may I have the next dance with your juicy brain, sexy mortal?”

Such was the case at Panchero’s Mexican Restaurant in Iowa City when a patron, who for whatever reason felt threatened and called the victim a “zombie” before first punching him in the eye, then the nose – inevitably breaking the latter. Iowa City police are still searching for the suspect and Crimestoppers has offered a reward of $1000 (or the cash equivalency of pickled brains) for any information leading to the arrest of the suspect. To help bag the alleged zombie-beater, police have released the following photo captured by a security camera from a nearby blood bank:

shaun of dead

Picture of alleged zombie attacker fleeing Panchero's and swinging at onlookers with a bloodied cricket bat.

Given when and where the alleged zombie attack took place should be a cause for grave concern. Most locals, dead and alive, know that Panchero’s is not a fertile breeding ground for zombies, especially amongst the after-hours drinking crowd, whose brains are stewed in cheap beer. Moreover, most of the clientele consist of hormonally-repressed college boys who were unable to score at several nearby meat-markets and need to fill the void with a two-pound burrito (your pun here). Granted, like most of their mortal counterparts who drink domestic beer by the pitcher, I’m guessing zombies also crave empty calories on occasion.

Because crimes perpetrated against zombies are rare (or are rarely reported by zombies; I’m guessing for every assault reported there are at least a 1000 that go unreported), news of the zombie assault was picked up by national news affiliates across the U.S. However, what the corporate-news lifeline failed to report is that Iowa City is a very welcoming community, especially when it comes to treating zombies as if they were alive and granting them the same rights and protections as their mortal counterparts.

Moreover, the zombie community has been more visibly active in Iowa City lately and refuses to stay underground — as if they were ashamed of being dead. To increase visibility during the daytime hours, the zombies staged a Zombie-Pride march in broad daylight in September, marching (if slowly dragging your clubbed feet counts as marching) from a local cemetery to downtown. They carried signs to ensure their voices could be heard, shouting lively chants such as “We’re zombies, we’re proud and we want to eat your brainzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.”

zombie march ic

"Brainnnzzzzzzzzzz...brainnnnzzzzzzzzzzz..."

Furthermore, to help zombies feel as if they fit in to the art scene, the Iowa City Community Theater staged “Zombie Prom” the past two weekends and encouraged zombies to out themselves and come to the musical in full regalia – a zombie coming-out party, if you will.

And since the attack, leaders from the zombie community and zombie sympathizers have publicly decried the senseless attack and are pressuring authorities to treat the assault as a hate crime. After all, zombies are fairly harmless, not to mention dead, yet some zombies who have been victims of assault still manage to maintain their compassion, as demonstrated by Freddy in “The Return of the Living Dead” when he was assaulted by Tina and said:

“See? You made me hurt myself again! I broke my hand off completely at the wrist this time, Tina! But that’s okay, Darlin’, because I love you, and that’s why you have to let me EAT YOUR BRAAAAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIIINS!”

Besides, if America is truly concerned about a new class of citizens eating the collective brains of our society, I think it is safe to say we’ve already been doing that for years – slowly eating our young from birth:

zombie baby tv

(Disclaimer: no brains were consumed, at least literally, during the penning of this post.)

Swine Flu: What’s in a Name?

"Read my lips (which one day become hotdog ingredinets): I am not to blame for the swine flu."

"Read my lips (which one day become hotdog ingredinets): I am not to blame for the swine flu."

What’s in a name? That which we call the Swine Flu
By any other name would still kill you.

Nonetheless, the latest global epidemic has the name-calling communities in a mudslinging stir, especially the swine aficionados and pork producers, who feel the deadly influenza uprising will systematically slaughter the pig trade.

Having been bred and raised in Iowa, a leading pork-producing state, I can see how the unsolicited branding of the swine flu could breed misconceptions, fear, paranoia, and hatred in the pigheaded global community, in particular anti-swine extremists who have already declared a jihad on Porky Pig – America’s most beloved stuttering swine: “Th-th-that’s all folks!”

Clearly these folks aren’t pop-culturally learned, for if they had seen the 1985 film “Porky’s Revenge,” they would know that ol’ Porky Wallace (see pic) is a big force (pun intended) to be reckoned with, especially if your name is Meat.

Porky Wallace:  Oh, I got your jihad right here...

Porky Wallace: "Oh, I got your jihad right here..."

Moreover, some religious sects are up in hooves over the name (and bad puns) over the swine flu. Israel Deputy Health Minister Yakov Litzman said the reference to pigs is offensive to Muslim and Jewish sensitivities to pork and suggested we should call it the “Mexican flu.” Even though the latest strand of swine flu allegedly began in Mexico, I don’t imagine that Mexicans will take too kindly to this name change.

I imagine there’s one sect of the global population that is quite pleased with the swine flu name: the pigs. I wouldn’t be surprised if the pigs, stealing a chapter from George Orwell’s cautionary tale “Animal Farm,” are the ones behind fanning the anti-swine propaganda with an updated slogan:

“Four legs deadly, two legs better watch the fuck out.”

(This slogan was sponsored by the International Swine Workers Union to commiserate this year’s International Workers’ Day (May 1).)

"Pig Brother is Watching You!"

"Pig Brother is Watching You, Imperialist Humans!"

I suspect these pissed-off pigs are still bitter when the Communists’ and Socialists’ propaganda machines butchered their name by attaching it to western capitalists: Imperialist Pigs

In an attempt to ease fears in the global swine community, which has already lined up to ban pork imports from the United States and Mexico, the U.S. Department of Agriculture, led by our former governor Tom Vilsack, announced that the swine flu is no longer the “swine flu,” rather “H1N1 flu.” Yeah right, I’m sure that name is going to stick and bleed like a stuck pig into American discourse.

Worse than HINI flu, the European Union announced yesterday that they will now call the new virus “Novel Flu Virus,” which I guarantee will be shortened by the media to the “Novel Flu.” I realize novel means “new” but as a high school English teacher, the prospect of attaching novel to a deadly virus in mind boggling. While pushing novels on to unsuspecting young readers over the last eight years, I’ve had a hard enough time closing the deal, when students contend: “Why should I read? Our president doesn’t read and he got elected not once, but twice.”

My only defense to this anecdotal evidence: “True, but he was elected by an electorate that doesn’t read regularly, and now look where that has landed us.”

If health officials were smart, they would revamp their flu epidemic marketing strategy and change the name by replacing swine with something they want people to fear, hate and/or avoid like the plague.

Here are some suggested swine substitutions, compliments of Say Something Funny:

Deep-Fat Fried Flu

Hollywood Sequels Flu II

Rush Limbaugh Flu (although, given the literal girth of this influenza strand, it’s completely unavoidable)

One Flu Over the Cuckoo’s Nest

Corporate Farm Flu

American Idle Flu

Poo –Too-Tweet Flu (or Twitter Flu)

Any Movies Starring Keanu Reeves Flu

Dick Cheney Flu (or Dick Jokes Flu)

That’s What She Said Flu

Earth Day Hung Over (Please Recycle This Post)

Mother Earth's Creator threatens to drop her if Earthlings don't get their shit together real soon

Mother Earth's Creator threatens to drop her if Earthlings don't get their shit together real soon

Earth Day: a man-made invention (from the makers of Valentine’s Day & All Saints’ Day), wherein its creator sets aside a 24-hour period each day to reflect upon the other 364 days of the year when man clog’s Mother’ Earth pores with plastics, recyclable garbage, archaic non-plasma television sets, nuclear waste, appliances, concrete slabs, dead sex toys, and aluminum canisters filled with petty rationalizations and excuses as to why Americans feel the need to bend Mama Earth over and stick it to her every non-Earth Day of the year.

Like insincere New Year’s Resolutions, we Americans used Earth Day as an excuse to take time away from producing more waste to make vows not to produce more waste. The big question is how many of us, when we wake up tomorrow morning with an environmental hangover, will actually remember the promises we made in the global warming of the moment while trying to get into Mama Earth’s pants.

That said, I’ve decided to strike preemptively by going public with my vows to help protect Mother Earth’s borders:

1. Whenever somebody tells me Global Warming is a hoax (which usually happens on an uncharacteristically cold day in Iowa), I will open up a can of Lysol on ‘em and spray the CFCs in their eyes and say: “How does that feel, naysayer? You think Mother Earth likes it? Do you? Huh?” (Note: this is merely a hoax, so if anyone should go blind or bleed from the eyes, chalk it up as mere happenstance.)

2. Participate in the “Litterbug Catch and Release Program.” Any time I see somebody litter or flick their cigarette butt on the ground, I will apprehend them and call the authorities, who will arrest them and either release them on the other side of the ozone layer or sentence them to hard time in a nearby land fill (formerly known as “The Dump”).

3. Stop using modifiers in the future.

4. Team up with Mother Earth’s Creators, Klaatu and Gort (aka Jesus and God) and film a sequel to the original “The Day the Earth Stood Still” (not to be confused with the recently recycled version starring Keanu Reeves, whose acting career has been overly recycled beyond the Best-When-Used-By Date: “Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure”). In the new film, “The Day the Earth Stood Full,” we will declare Inertia on Earth, holding earthlings hostage until they meet our demands: Appoint WALL-E Czar of Earth, stop using doublespeak to mask threats against Earth (e.g. “clean coal”), and boot Keanu Reeves out of the Actors’ Guild – no questions asked.

Future Earth Czar WALL-E unveils Trash Talkin' Manifesto during stump speech in T.S. Elliot's Wasteland

Future Earth Czar WALL-E unveils Trash Talkin' Manifesto during stump speech in T.S. Elliot's Wasteland

5. Recycle this post.

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Steal My Identity, Please

identity-theft-protection1

Finally, somebody stole my identity.

That somebody, or who I, not by choice mind you, now call the New Me, finally took the bait and stole my identity. Ever since I invested all of my hope inY2K (that’s “Year 2000” – for my fellow Acronym Challenged brethren out there) wiping the financial slates clean from microchip memory, only to be thoroughly disappointed when the anticipated crash did not happen, I’ve been praying somebody would steal my identity and the financial baggage that comes with it.

During the waning days leading up to the turn of the century, when I wasn’t thinking about what life must have been like in debtors’ prisons, I channeled all of my remaining energy into Operation Ground Zero – my little pet name for the impending Y2K crash. Often times these thought strands would merge, and I imagined the resurrection of debtors’ prisons in the post-Y2K era.

The First Rule About Operation Ground Zero is That You Don't Talk Aboutd Operation Ground Zero

The First Rule of Operation Ground Zero is That You Don't Talk About Operation Ground Zero

Ironically, I envisioned debtors’ prisons in an optimistic light – a trait I picked up through my mother’s umbilical cord while floating aimlessly in the womb, without any financial worries whatsoever. Ah yes, the salad days. Debtors’ prison: Where else are you guaranteed a roof over your head and three square meals a day? Moreover, debtors will get the opportunity to spend more time with their families, since they’ll be imprisoned alongside their loved ones instead of alone in an office cubicle, not to mention, debtors’ prisons will have the best education system, since most teachers are in debt up until they retire.

To help tempt and encourage identity thieves, I’ve been leaving my financial baggage all over the Internet, unattended, despite all the warnings circulating in the virtual airwaves via telecom:

Warning: Do not leave your financial baggage unattended, for bags may be stolen or injected with a virus that will virtually destroy your life. Please report any unattended bags to the Internet police or any behaviors that may be considered suspicious, including but not limited to persons fitting computer hacker profiles that demonstrate antisocial behaviors in public places, shoeless children offering to carry your bags in exchange for money and/or sexual favors, or mechanical dogs sniffing through your matching, leopard-skin luggage set.

Despite making wholesale security cuts and leaving behind a mixed-trail of computer cookies a hack hacker could easily digest, nobody had been tempted by my identity. They must have read the writing on the firewalls:

Keep Out! This Poor Cat Ain’t Carryin’ No Cash or Credit

Even so, I thought somebody would at least nibble on my identity before moving on to other, more reputable and potentially profitable marks, say AIG shareholders. Although I had never bought into the Fear Industry’s mega-marketing machine, I thought my revealing identity would lure somebody into its financial abyss. Exacerbated by 9-11 attacks and the “War on Terror,” the “War on Identity Theft,” has stepped up its measures as well, pumping paranoia into the market through fear generators – known as televisions and radios in less paranoid communities.

Not a day goes by that I don’t hear some advertisement warning me about identity theft:

Voice Over: Did you know that paying with unprotected plastic is like having sex without a rubber? Whether it’s somebody stealing your identity or giving you an incurable STD, you’re putting your life on the line. Why risk subject yourself to a long, painful death, when you can protect yourself and enjoy the temporary gratification without having to worry about what or who’s on the other end? No more worries; now you can buy the best protection in the industry…

The Identity Protection Industry Racket has become the new Mafia in America, offering consumers protection from identity thieves in exchange for nominal fees.

"You want identity protection...I'm going to make you an offer you can't refuse..."

"You want your identity protected? I'm going to make you an offer you can't refuse..."

For me the key to fighting identity theft is making sure I don’t have anything worth stealing (at least that’s what I keep telling myself), including my dignity. Subconsciously, at least that’s what I tell Therapist Bob, I’ve taken this philosophy to an extreme by digging a financial hole to China, who by the way, already owns my debt by way of the United States. Hmmmm…maybe we should tempt another country to steal our country’s identity to help erase our debt and lift us out of the current recession.

Got toxic assets?

So I began leaving my identity laying around on the Internet, thinking somebody would quickly snatch it up, but no such luck. I even resorted to using reverse psychology: “Yoo hoo. Over here. Whatever you do, keep your hands off my sweet, little identity, big boy.”

But to no avail.

However, some sucker, the New Me, finally took the bait and hooked my identity last month, only to discover he had been hobbled by a rapidly falling credit score. The New Me is not banking too well. Worse, the New Me had the nerve to file a lawsuit against the Old Me, claiming I had entrapped him into a financial quagmire.

But I’ve vowed to fight the New Me, to the death if need be, and it’s no longer about the money, rather it’s about protecting my dignity – at least what’s left of it after amortization.

They’re Always After Me St. Paddy’s Day Limericks!

leprechaun8

Ah yes, St. Paddy’s Day has arrived. A day of Irish reconciliation in America where, for a day, everyone has at least one drop of Irish blood alcohol level, thus qualifying them to drink liberally and slur their best Irish accents among their 1/32nd Irish friends. For the record: I’m half Irish, but I’m not entirely sure which half – the bottom or top half. Although I inherited a number of Irish traits from my father’s side (green eyes, reddish hair, and a soft spot for Bono), I did not inherit his Irish taste buds. I cannot stand Irish cuisine and feel blessed my grandfather immigrated to America, where he drank himself, probably to kill the taste of corned beef and cabbage, to an untimely death.

I plan on celebrating by wearing green all day, not because I need to profess or celebrate my Irish heritage, rather so nobody pinches me. Moreover, to celebrate St. Patrick’s Day this year, I thought I would serve up some tasty limericks as either appetizers or chasers for those of you who plan on indulging in Ireland’s favorite pastime: Guinness green beer.

(Note: To fully appreciate these limericks, it’s recommended that you read them aloud in private, using your best Irish accent, before you start knocking down the beers in a public pub.)

There’s No Place Like Ireland on St. Paddy’s Day in America

St, Paddy’s Day rolls ‘round but once a year
As Americans quest for green beer,
Pour on thick accents,
Spew yarns of nonsense,
And long for a home they’ve never been near.

Just Say No to Me Lucky Charms

There once was a leprechaun named Lucky
Who hooked kids on marshmallows quite sticky.
When they need a fix.
They must turn a trick;
For Lucky’s charms are magically tasty.

Saint Patrick’s Snakes on a Plane

There once was a saint named Patrick
Who chased off Ireland’s snakes with a stick.
They boarded a plane,
Drove the crew insane –
Inspiring this muthufuckin’ snakes on a plane lim’rick.

Saint Patricia’s Night at the Roxbury

There once was a lassie from Listerine
Who dipped her whole body in green.
She drank herself blind,
Nearly drowned her mind
And awoke to a leprechaun drag queen.