Categories
Commentary

Cut and Paste Cinema – The First Ever Ominous Rant

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

Dragon Wars, the Worst Movie since Timeline ~ the Ominous Comma

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

Categories
Commentary

How to Survive in Business

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.

Act now.

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.

Categories
Commentary

Humoron Shortage Hits U.S. Writers

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.

Department of Humor Security monitoring station - Humoron division

“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.

Department of Humor Security rapid response unit - Humoron One

“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

  1. 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.

Categories
Commentary

The Joy of Friday

Happy Friday everyone, and congratulations on making it through another week. Yes, I know that not all of you are in my time zone, and that where you live it may not actually be Friday anymore/yet/ever. That’s okay. I am confident that anyone with the intelligence and good taste to discover the Comma from the disadvantage of a foreign culture will also be up to the task of making it through one more day.

Most people are unaware that Friday was actually named for Frida Kahlo…who made a name for herself by painting people’s internal organs floating outside their bodies

I love Fridays. I really love them. In fact I have taken it upon myself to be the official Friday spokesmen and director of promotions. Whenever I find people in distress, I remind them of the upcoming Friday; whenever I find people bored or longing for education, I like to share little known Friday facts. For example, most people are unaware that this twenty-four hour period we call Friday was actually named for Frida Kahlo, the late monobrowed artist who made a name for herself by painting people’s internal organs floating outside their bodies. I won’t go into all the details of how the citizens of ancient times named a day of the week after a modern artist, but let’s just say that there is a very good reason why art students are not allowed access to time machines.

Despite it’s unusual name, Fridays are my favorite. They always come packed with hope and the promise of two days rest. Not every weekend lives up to this lofty expectation, but I can never bring myself to fault Friday for any failings that Saturday or Sunday might bring. Friday gets credit for the imminent weekend just as Monday gets the blame for its expiration. I know it’s not fair, but that does nothing to change my high opinion of Fridays.

I love Fridays so much that I have even started referring to Thursdays as “Friday Eve,” which seems to really confuse people.

Me: “Happy Friday Eve!”
Confused Bystander
: “But it’s not Friday.”
Me: “True”
CB: “It’s not even nighttime.”
Me: “Also correct.”
CB: “Did you take your Lithium today?”

Then I joyfully explain that just as the entire day before Christmas is known as Christmas Eve, in the same way the day before Friday can be referred to as Friday Eve.

This is usually enough to end any conversation.1

You might think that it would be easy to be an ambassador for a day as already highly regarded as Friday, but as you can see, it is often hard and thankless work. There are no commissions, no corporate sponsors, not even a catchy slogan.

Only the pride of a job well done.

Happy Friday.

——

This article brought to you by the Friday Preservation Society,
As long as there are Mondays, we’ll be working on a cure.

  1. Although it might seem strange to the readers of this publication, the skills of philosophical wordplay are just not valued by our society to the same extent as other talents, such as basketball, tax preparation, or even janitorial proficiency. I am told that at one time a good story could earn the teller food and shelter for the night. The most mine have ever earned me are funny looks and furious whispers at work. Apparently, the diaper of Time was full and had to be changed.

Categories
Best of the Comma Commentary

Hormone Poisoning

One of the unanticipated side effect of creating this forum of intelligent discussion that we call the Comma, is the continuing demand for insight and explanation into the foggy realms of male behavior. I have never asked to be spokesmen for the gender and I’m not really sure how it even came about. But as the well known saying goes: “With great power come the ability to approve your own pay raises,” and with the exception of the power and the pay part, that is exactly what is happening here.

One of the most frequent questions I get about the complex inner working of the human male is: Why are men so stupid?

One theory, usually proposed by women, is that the male brain is basically mock-up, or a prop that serves no actual function except to provide mass to the head and help maintain proper center of gravity for the rest of the body. These same individuals maintain that the male nervous system is basically a straight wire between stimulus and response. They suggest that the thought patterns of a male human proceed as follows: Feel hungry: get Cheetos, Feel itchy: scratch in public, See woman: harass.

This theory is clearly inaccurate, as it makes no explanation for the male ability to calculate the impressive sports statistics and national defense budgets that make us so proud. The truth is that the male brain does function , but only occasionally. The real problem in this area, as in so many others, is women.

Allow me to explain.

One of the most baffling engineering quirks of the male brain is its tendency to suspend all rational thought upon the introduction of certain key hormones. Scientist have named these mind-altering chemical messengers: stupigen, spazigen, and preposterone.

These hormones, especially in in younger males, are released in response to various forms of stimuli, such as the sight, sound, smell, touch, or general proximity of a breathing female.

The results are immediate. At the first hint of hormone infusion all logical mental processes cease. As the brain reaches hormone inundation, the normally dormant stupiditocortex is activated, releasing random and often destructive thought-impulses into the brain. Finally, upon hormone saturation, the male brain begins to shrink until it reaches critical lack-of-mass, at which point there is an unopposed flow of foolishness throughout the entire nervous system.

This phenomena is best described by the famous mid-eighties philosophers, Whitesnake, in their groundbreaking treatise, Give Me All Your Love Tonight.

I don’t even know your name
I can’t leave you alone
I’m running round in circles
Like a dog without a bone
I know the game your playing
But baby I just can’t say no.

To the casual observer, it might seem that such a generally mindless condition would be embarrassing for the affected male, but one of the most insidious effects of hormone poisoning is the almost completely blindness of the victim to his own stupidity. Only once hormone flow has receded and normal mental function been restored, does the realization of his recent foolishness begin. In the aftermath of a hormonal incident, a man is left with only painful memories and the certainty of future relapse.

And perhaps a tattoo.

For example, one young man of my acquaintance, an otherwise rational and authorly individual, once leapt off a very tall pier into the Pacific Ocean, fully clothed, in a gallant yet totally-immersing attempt to gain the attention of a young woman. This move came as a complete surprise to the man, as well as the woman, and several unfortunate starfish who sadly succumbed to Falling IQ Syndrome. Upon further investigation, it was discovered that this young man had already obtained the attention of the woman in question, as evidenced by their pre-jump conversation, as well as their recent marriage.

When asked what he was thinking during the debilitating spell of machismo, his only response was, “that the water was a little deeper than that.”1

This type of irrational behavior can be expected whenever a man is subjected to hormone saturation by the careless presence of a woman. Unfortunately, after the initial onset of hormone poisoning, men find themselves compelled to seek out the presence of women in order to reenact this cycle of stupidity.

Is there any cure? Once in 1964 a team of researchers where on the verge of eradicating the scourge of hormone poisoning until the addition of an attractive female scientist to the team sent them all into a headlong plunge of hormone-induced stupidity. The resulting explosion shattered windows and de-feathered poultry over a twelve mile radius. All notes and research material were destroyed by the blast and the researchers themselves had to be institutionalized for the own good. They are currently under the care of Dr. Harold Toboggans, at the Institute for the Hormonally Confused who has had made significant progress with several pop musicians and the 1985 Russian Women’s Olympic shot-put team.

What should be clear to everyone by now is that the true cause of occasional male irrationality is of course, women. As maintained by the chauvinists of old, men would be much wiser without female interference. They would also be much lonelier, much hairier, and much more likely to drive themselves completely out of gas before ever asking for directions. Which only proves the wisdom of old saying, “Women, you can’t live with them and they just won’t stay in the convent.”

—–

  1. Any resemblance between the author and this unfortunate individual is purely coincidental and will never be discussed again.

Categories
Best of the Comma Commentary

Building My Career With A Book Signing Tour

I have decided that if I am to advance to the next level in my authorly career, I am simply going to have to launch a book signing tour.

According to my research on the subject, the key requirements for such a literary event are a book, an author, and a writing utensil. I am told that a Sharpie-brand1 permanent marker works well for most autographing needs, but in a pinch you can make do with a charcoal briquette or even an unfolded paperclip dipped in your own blood, which is especially appropriate if you are promoting a horror novel or a grade-school teaching memoir.

After a careful inventory of my dwelling, my clothing, and a couple of people who happened to walk by, I discovered that I did not, in fact, have a book to sign. So I called my publishers to lodge a complaint. Once they had searched their records, they informed me that the breakdown in the publishing process had occurred somewhere around the point where I failed to submit a book for publication.

As an American I am not used to tolerating this level of incompetence, so I fired my publishing company and immediately initiated a class action suit on behalf of all the would-be authors in the country that may also have been discriminated against in such a egregious fashion.

My more financially savvy friends have advised me to invest any settlement I receive in commodities that I support and believe in. When pressed,2 my lawyers revealed that my share of the upcoming settlement should be just sizeable enough to invest in a good cup of coffee.

Undaunted by this minor setback, I decided that I owed it to the American people to carry on with my tour, in the hope that my perseverance against overwhelming odds might inspire people, and get me a spot on Oprah3 to promote my absent book. As a contingency, I decided that should any fans insist that I actually sign a book on my book signing tour, I would simply autograph something from Dave Barry’s large catalog of publications. As long as I stay out of Florida, I’m sure he’ll never notice.

I thought that I would start my literary pilgrimage in small, local bookstores and then switch over to Barnes and Noble locations to take advantage of those nice Starbuck’s kiosks they have in their stores. As any touring author can tell you, book signing is far too strenuous to attempt without a ready supply of Cinnamon Dolce Lattés.4

From there, I will travel to other cities. After all, what is the point of being an author if you are surrounded by people that already know you, and therefore fail to properly appreciate your literary brilliance, celebrity status, and may even expect you to pay for your own meals.

At each stop I will be enjoying the deluxe accommodations of my tour sponsor, the Honda Civic Inn, who’s single occupancy executive suite is far more luxurious that the meager lodgings that I am accustomed to on the driver’s side.

Yes, it is shaping up to be a glorious tour, filled with joy, excitement, and of course, me. Which is as much as you could realistically ask for in an event of this literary magnitude.5

—–

Soon, I will finalize the list of cities to be graced with a visit, chosen on the basis of their reputation for author appreciation and the enforcement stringency of their local vagrancy laws. Be sure to subscribe to this site to receive up-to-the-second information on this ground breaking literary event as it unfolds.

Save

  1. Unpaid product promotion. To submit your product for promotion, please send me a working sample of your product and a briefcase full of small unmarked bills. If you could organize them by date due and amount owed, that would really help.
  2. Lawyers must always be pressed if you wish to extract truth from them. I recommend an industrial steam press like the ones used by laundries and dry cleaners. It allows you to get to the truth quickly, while leaving your lawyer’s suit fresh-looking and wrinkle-free.
  3. I refuse to comment on Oprah on the grounds that the Organization of Surprisingly Unpleasant Talk Show Personalities might again send their minions to address my “uncooperative attitude” with large blunt objects.
  4. Dear Mr. Starbuck, please extend the limited, winter-only availability of your Cinnamon Dolce drinks. Don’t cut me off like this. My literary career, and the subsequent happiness of millions of people, depend on this life-giving product. Please consider the welfare of the nation as you make this decision.
  5. I really don’t have anything to say here, I just hate having an even number of footnotes. Odd numbers somehow look much more professional.