Brent A. DiggsWriter of books and other things that tend to contain words
In today’s uncertain political climate, with the threat of terrorism coming in a wide spectrum of designer colors, it is more important than ever to be prepared for any eventuality. That’s why top experts like myself recommend never leaving your home without the safety and security of a properly worn necktie.1
Threat Level: Tacky
Although not widely known outside anti-terrorism-expert circles, the basic department store necktie is one of the best methods for combating terror and keeping the homeland in a most tranquil state of security.
My research, based on a careful and exhaustive review of action movies I’ve seen over the last ten years, shows that with courage, determination, and a convenient backstory of elite military training, even the most mundane looking individual can single-handedly save the world from the clutches of villainy.
So as yet another service of this surprisingly responsible publication, here is a list of ways that you can use your very own necktie to thwart the minions of terror:
As a Headband
Transitioning your neck-tie to headband position is the first step in any terror-stopping plan of action. It is the time-honored and chivalrous way to inform terrorists in the area that you don’t intend to calmly sit back and be savaged by their insidious box knives and nail clippers, but are quite willing to destroy half a city in order to ensure their destruction.
As a Sling
Since ancient times, the sling has been the preferred weapon for bringing down overpowering insurgent foes. To activate the latent tactical properties of your tie, follow the following instructions:
- Find a stone or other small, dense object and place it in the center of your tie while holding both ends with the other hand.
- Whip your stone/tie combination in circles above your head.
- Once you are dizzy and out of breath, release one end of the tie and watch your flying stone incapacitate the enemies of freedom, or possibly the windows of freedom, depending upon you level of hand-eye-wrist-elbow coordination.
This technique is an invaluable way to subdue any forces of terror you may encounter at rock gardens, driving ranges, or any other location graced with ready supply of projectiles.
As a Firebomb Fuse
Although primarily known as an insurgent’s weapon, the Molotov Cocktail can prove useful for patriots as well. When fighting homeland-security threats in bars and liquor stores, insert your tie into a full bottle of high-proof alcohol, light your improvised fuse, and throw.
For best results, remove tie before activation.
As a Teardrop Absorber
In the course of your anti-terror heroics, you are bound to meet an overwhelmed and attractive member of the opposite sex, tearfully awaiting rescue by a intrepid insurgent-stopper like yourself. Use your tie to wipe away their tears and win their heart forever. With any luck, the two of you will hit it off and produce the next generation of freedom fighters.
As an Improvised Towel Fight Implement
The nightmare scenario of every counter-terror specialist is to be caught unarmed in a locker room by evil, towel-wielding insurgents. If you find yourself trapped in such a towel-fight of terror, simply remove your tie and snap away at any and all threats to the homeland.
Wetting the business end of your tie with saliva, or even the tears of your new soul-mate, will give best results and allow you to raise some serious Freedom Welts on the insurgently unwashed hides of your adversaries.
As a Hot Pad
As a good patriot, there is no telling when you may be called upon to remove Freedom Baked Potatoes from a hot oven for some important ceremonial function. Don’t let our enemies get the upper hand simply because you lack hot pads for this important task; use your neck-tie to safely transfer the golden tubers of liberty to the plates of waiting dignitaries and ensure freedom for one more day.
As we’ve seen, nothing stands between the threat of imminent terror and our beloved homeland except you and your wardrobe.2
So be alert, avoid suspicious establishments like Terror R US, and whatever you do, dress defensively.
This post is doing due diligence at humor-blogs.com
- Ladies, don’t think this fine, military-grade advice applies only to men. This is the 21st century and there is nothing stopping you from acquiring and attiring your very own freedom tie. The author has gone to great pronounal difficulty to render this article both gender and pH neutral, in order to ensure that each and every patriot clearly understands his/her/hiser/heris responsibility for homeland protection. ↩
“Wardrobe,” in this instance refers to the American usage of the word, meaning, “entire collection of clothing,” not the British usage meaning, “large wooden locker-thing we have to use because we forgot to build closets.”
The only practical defense application for wardrobes of the second sort is to shove them in front of the door, or travel through them to a safer dimension populated by lions, minotaurs, and seriously agitated, PMS-ing magic-chicks. ↩
People sometimes ask me how long it takes to write these posts, and I always give the same truthful answer:
I really don’t want to boast for more than a couple hundred words or so, but the work of a serious humorist is not easy, it requires persistence, dedication, and obscene quantities of coffee.
And once you make it out of bed, it gets even more challenging.
Anyway, all this laborious authorship tends to take a while, which sometimes tests the patience of my family. Especially since I can be difficult to contact while I am in my writing-trance. In fact, as I consult my pillowed dictionary, and practice my ritual snores, I am often mistaken for being asleep. Which of course is not the case, I am just concentrating.
Very, very deeply.
And frequently, as I return to a more mundane state of consciousness, I will find a communiqué from the lovely and ever gracious Hot Comma Momma, delicately reminding me of my household responsibilities.
Here is a collection of recent correspondence from Her Loyal Hotness:
It sounds like that sasquatch got back into the basement again. The kids probably left the window open. Can you take care of it? I left the cattle prod and pepper spray on the kitchen table for you.
Could you pick up your alien artifacts out of the living room? The girls are coming over tonight to watch some movies. You remember how upset you got last time when Debbie put the onion dip in the trans-dimensional electro-ponder.
The auto-cloner is acting up again. It’s putting out a puppy every hour and I’m running out of newspaper. Please see what you can do.
Lots of Love
The kids have been telling people that you died in an oil fire again. Perhaps you’re working too hard. Please talk to them. In person this time, no holograms. Remember, these are the days that we will always cherish. Good luck honey.
“We have to be strong. Daddy wouldn’t want us to disgrace his memory by getting all blubbery.”
There’s some government-looking men parked in a van outside the house. They’ve been out there all week so today I took them some sandwiches. They’re the nicest surveillance team yet.
So, is there anything you want to tell me?
You’ll have to excuse me, all this writing has worn me out. I have to go concentrate again.
This post is dosing off over at humor-blogs.com
Tomorrow is November 10th also known as the Annual Festival of Jarhead Inebriation.
As such, thousand of Marines will lift a glass or twelve to celebrate the 229th birthday of the United States Marine Corps. Barking noises and random vowel sounds will probably also be uttered, in a time-honored expression of otherwise inexpressible maritime delight.
Those that feel that public and prolonged drunkenness may not be the most appropriate way to celebrate such an advanced age are not necessarily naïve. They are simply unaware of the finer points of Marine Corps history.
The illustrious United States Marine Corps, like many other fine militant organizations, was formed in a bar. Early job qualification included surliness of demeanor, advanced degree of pistitude, and propensity for standing in harm’s way. Being musket-proof was also considered a great advantage, but not one widely tested outside of battle.
The duties of the early jarheads included guarding the ship’s captain, enforcing the orders of the ships’ captain, striking terror into people not currently the ship’s captain and keeping their boots shiny.
You won’t find it in many history books, but if there is one thing that I learned from my many military adventures, it is that nothing strikes terror into the heart of an enemy like a mean pair of shiny boots.
At this point, some of the more thorough-thinking readers will not doubt be asking, “Why wear such a nicely camouflaged uniform as modern Marines do, if you’re just going to polish your footwear to the point that it could serve as speed-laced solar reflectors?”
Allow me to assure you, from personal experience, that questions of this nature are basically unappreciated by Marine Corps hierarchy. In fact, questions exceeding “How high?” in word count and level of abstraction are generally frowned upon.
“Why?!!! Did I hear the word why emerge from your lips?!!!”
What is not frowned upon is promptness and punctuality. One tenet of Marine Corps doctrine is that, “Being on time is being late. You should be at least 15 minutes early to everything.”
This is exactly the sort of thinking that led to the U.S. Marine Corps to be founded a solid year before the county itself. Which basically confused everyone:
Early Civilian: What are you doing?
Early Jarhead: Defending the country.
Early Civilian: But it’s only 1775, we’re still British colonies.
Early Jarhead: It’s called being proactive!
Early Civilian: Oh. (slowly backing away, being careful not to make any sudden or threatening movements.)
This very same proactivity is alive and sounding-off in today’s 21st century Marine Corps, and is no doubt being used somewhere at this very moment to justify an early commencement of Birthday festivities.
So as leathernecks far and wide promptly embark upon this fine celebratory debauch, I have only one piece of advice for you:
Keep both hands on your refreshing beverage, especially once the dancing starts. You wouldn’t want to spill it on your boots.
This post can be found happily marching across humor-blogs.com
Lackladdy G. Ferggusson was known by friends and acquaintances as a lifelong chronic underachiever, but after an inexplicable radioactive silverware accident gave him super-spooning ability, nothing really changed.
Prodded by his mother into hero work as a way of getting him out of the house, Spoonerine found his superpower niche battling semi-liquid villains like the Stenchifying Sludge and the Perfidious Pee-Soup.
Life was looking like an easy victory for Spoony until he met his match against the perplexing might of the Enjiggelating JelloTron, who proceeded to spank his superheroic hind-quarters like a kryponite ping-pong paddle. After that, Spoonerine went into a deep depression.
“Life was dark and suffocating for me,” Spoony later told reporters about that tragic time, “I might have never found my way out if my mom hadn’t pulled off the covers and kicked me out of bed. She put me back on the path of near responsibility.”
Spoonerine snapped back into action, ready to put a hurt on JelloTron only to discover that the villain had taken an early retirement in the Cayman Islands with his ill-gotten gains.
“You can’t really extradite people from there,” Spoonerine was quoted as saying, “the place is crawling with fired CEOs, unscrupulous lawyers, and vacationing politicians. They had an injunction waiting for me before I could get off the plane.”
Giving up on his former nemesis, Spoony turned to acting. He was offered a reality television show, Microwaving with the Almost Famous until a scandal broke over an ill-advised advertisement he had done for Tarnex fifteen years prior.
“I was really excited about that show, we had even licensed that song by Soundgarden for the theme. I really love that song. I hope I get to do another show just so I can use it.”
Spoonerine now spends his time fighting crime, doing accounting and waiting for a shot at one of the major superhero organizations like the Justice League or the Avengers.
Currently he serves as adjunct-sidekick for the farm league club the Bore-o-fying BenchBuddies.
This post is putting electric shavers inside apples to hand out over at humor-blogs.com.
Everyone does things that they later regret. Things that they wish they could blame on drugs or alien possession. Things that although seem rational at the time, later reveal themselves to be engraved invitations for suffering and endless recriminations of stupidity.
For some people it is signing the note for the new Hummer, for others it is picking up a homicidal hitchhiker, for still others it is sending their bank account information to third world millionaires mysteriously strapped for cash.
For me it was a film.
D-War: Dragon Wars
In hindsight, I should have guessed how environmentally friendly and thoroughly recycled this movie would turn out to be from its stuttered and repeating title. But with my willing suspension of disbelief intact, and a naive faith stemming from the cool looking poster in the lobby, I really wanted this film to work. Sadly, by the time the old man in the pawnshop explained the entire backstory, fifteen minutes into the picture, I had the sudden, sinking revelation that comes from knowing every plot point of a still unseen film. And worse:
I knew just how badly they would all suck.
Let me be perfectly clear here, the English language lacks sufficient nuance and depth regarding the topic of ultimate evil to properly describe just how bad this film really is.
As for knowing all the twists of movie, I was wrong. In the spirit of the old Godzilla films, whose scales this one is not worthy to fill, it conveniently sprouted extra sub-plots every time the main characters were threatened by the specter of meaningful dialogue.
It was infested with close calls, miraculous escapes, and concentrated deposits of poorly explained angst.
This film is what would happen if you gave the produces of the Mighty Morphing Power Rangers access to the national defense budget. And lots of liquor.
Let me try to explain.
Imagine you could get a hold of all the coolest-looking set pieces from successful action movies of the last decade:
First take the rasta-talking army of amphibians from Star Wars Episode One and remove their Prozac until they are ready to club Navy Seals.
Next, take close approximations of Kira Knightly and Tom Cruise (You can even call him Ethan as a “subtle” nod to the Mission Impossible franchise.) and give them lots of film noir narration, so no one get confused while trying to follow the wading-pool depths of their thoughts.
Finally add a raspy-voiced villain in pointy armor worthy of a Lord of the Rings yardsale and a couple of giant cobras, angry at having their scenes deleted from latest edition of King Kong, and lay them all out in no particular order in modern day Los Angeles.
Now run to the drugstore to find something for your sudden migraine. When you return, puree these ingredients until any overlooked hint of originality is dissolved into a homogenized mass of cheese and serve semi-gelatinous.
At several points during this picture, I found myself saying out loud, “Make the bad movie stop,” and breaking into tears.
To call this a B-movie would be giving it an undeserved promotion. After summer school, and a lot of physical therapy, it might possibly pass for a C level film if you could somehow sleep through most of it.
In short, if you ever find yourself with money and brain cells to burn, and the need to punish yourself for hideous, unspoken sins against humanity, Dragon Wars might just be the film for you.
This post is demanding its money back at humor-blogs.com
Yet another weekend bonus from the copious coffers of Comma content.
The scene opens on two executives seated at a large and imposing conference table. Fear marks the faces of these once proud men. The air is thick with tension and the smell of sweaty Italian shoes..
Number One: We’ve got a problem.
Number Two: Sexy?
Number One: Yes. It’s gone.
Number Two: This is bad,
Number One: Very bad.
The door opens abruptly, the upper torso of Number Three, a young woman, extends into the room.
Number One: I told you not to interrupt–
Number Three: But it’s Timberlake, he’s bringing sexy back!
A sound like the escaping helium of a downed dirigible is heard from Number One’s lips.
Number One: Thank God.
Number Two: We’re saved!
“Are you guys blind? It was over there the whole time. ”
For a limited time you can subscribe to the Ominous Comma for half off the already low rate of competence.
This is a deal not to be missed.
If you’re young, or merely masochistic, you may be considering a career in corporate America.
In light of the self-destructive nature of this decision, you would be right to wonder, “Am I stupid? What if I’m not smart enough to make it in the corporate world?”
If you suffer these misgivings, you are definitely over-thinking the situation, which is a habit you will have to cease if you are to succeed in a hierarchical organization.
The truth is that although some individuals are too smart to participate in corporate life, very few people are too stupid to receive admission into the hallowed halls of business.
How do these less than stellar intellectual performers survive life in the cubical farm?
They fake it, and you can too.
That’s right, with proper training and guidance, you too can simulate sufficient levels of intelligence to begin your journey to the exciting quagmire of middle management.
This is where my good friend (cough, couch, where’s my check) Karl Wolfbrooks Ager can help. At his site Faking Smart you can learn the skills you need to appear capable, competent and promotion-worthy.
Simply soak up his sage advice and before you know it you’ll be looking and acting smarter than you even realize.
What are you waiting for, all the manifold joys of the burgeoning business bureaucracy await you.
Faking Smart is proudly banned bannered at humor-blogs.com
The previous is an unpaid promotion, based on my enjoyment of the Faking Smart blog.
But, if you are in the market to have some hyperbole-rich copy written for publication elsewhere, I would be happy to take your money.
Delighted, in fact.
Yesterday, I was visited by representatives of the Department of Humor Security. It seems that there is humoron1 shortage and I have be asked, in a spirit of community patriotism, to stop wasting vital humor resources on projects as trivial as this blog. Apparently my humble attempts at humor are draining the inter-dimensional supply of ridiculousity required by the government for its continued operation.
“As you can see sir, the problem is located here at the Ominous Comma North American Headquarters.”
As it was explained to me, the government uses currents of humoron flux to infuse its hierarchy with a continuing supply of apathy and insensitivity required for efficient government service. This of course creates huge volumes of irony, perfect for sharing with the world. Unfortunately, tapping into this irony somehow short circuits the whole operation, and in the process make everyone involved look really silly.
I had always considered any silliness, or lack thereof, in an individual’s appearance to be a personal problem, to solved by the proper application of whatever level of intelligence each individual is gifted with. However, since many organization are specifically designed to bypass the native intelligence of their members, my approach is often considered a threat, frequently answered with violence, intimidation, and torturously bad elevator music delivered over long periods of telephone “hold time.”
After several hours of low-quality government-issue jokes, the agents let me off with a stern warning, threatening the worst from federal auditors and proctologists if I did not restrict my writing to only the most serious of matters, avoiding all levity, mockery, and mirth.
“Remember men, Don’t fire until you hear the click of his keyboard.”
I have no idea what I will do. If I stop being funny I could lose my audience, not to mention my coveted listing on humor-blogs.com.
Clearly, there is no easy path from here, but I will keep all both of you posted about any late breaking news in this exciting story.
Mysteriously listed among some funny writers at humor-blogs.com
- Sub-atomic particles of humor energy. Although not quite technically proven, their existence would explain a lot about the present ridiculous state of the world, as well as giving clues to understanding past and future states of planetary ridiculousness. Discover the humorons role in intelligent humor here. ↩
Today’s demonstration of tact:
“I wouldn’t say you’re stupid,
but I would definitely think it.”
Another service of the Ominous Comma, the first, middle1, and last name in intelligent humor.
- Use of the middle name does not necessarily constitute parental disciplinary measures, but it is strongly implied. ↩