Some thoughts from the workplace... 

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Scientologists should be put into concentration camps. I can say this because I’m Jewish, and therefore, just like black people

being allowed to say that white people should have to become slaves for a couple centuries, I can say, Scientologists should be starved, put on death marches, stuck into gas chambers, raped, murdered, and then, after being freed by Russians, get raped and murdered by their rescuers too. I also think Mel Gibson, despite not being a Scientologist, should also be tossed into a camp.

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The best place to masturbate is always the workplace. I did it at Baker Center, while on the clock at the Corner Café, and I 

just figured out how to get away with it in my new office job (the trick is...under the desk!). If you happen to work at Baker Center
now, and need a tip, here’s my fail-proof plan. Go to the 3rd floor,where the club offices and meeting rooms are. Find the 

LGBT-friendly bathroom – it only has a stall and one urinal in it, so it’s nice and cozy (and often warm). Feel free to lock 

that door, too, some of the frequent users seem to like their privacy. Then, step into that stall and go nuts on yourself. Bring
a copy of the Outlook free newspaper in with you – sometimes it has hot pictures of lesbians kissing. 

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The only thing in the fridge at my work for us to drink is
Diet Pepsi. If I bring in real soda, it will be removed because everyone else
in the office is “health conscious.” That’s also why, despite
working 9 hour days, I have to sneak out and avoid dirty looks to take a
cigarette break. It seems “health conscious” people don’t
smoke cigarettes either. I’m health conscious too, though. I’m VERY
conscious of the fact that I’m pudgy, maybe even fat, in need of a
serious change of diet. I’m conscious of the fact that I like to eat
greasy, fatty foods. That buffalo wings taste good, but taste better with some
beer…and not light beer, either. I’m conscious of the fact that
cigarettes are taking years off my life. I’m also conscious of the fact
that everyone dies of something eventually – so if I’m going to go
because of issues dealing with my heart (probable), colon (highly probable),
getting eaten by a bear (unlikely), or getting eaten by a gay bear (highly
unlikely), I’d rather go with a stomach full of enchilada. 

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The worst song to listen to while waiting for a red light to change : “It Won’t Be Long” by the Beatles. Just try it!

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Farts don’t smell so deaf people can enjoy them. They smell so vegans know that their shit stinks too.

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 Nobody ever dies doing what they love. When people say that, they’re wrong. No one ever died doing what they love. Ever. Ever. No need or way to argue this. When a bunch of people died of a fire in the middle of a Great White show, and the reporters talked to their family and their family said “Oh, well, at least he died seeing his favorite band in the world. He died doing what he loved” – they were wrong. His own family was WRONG. He didn’t die seeing his favorite band. He died seeing his favorite band run offstage, while he himself had his skin bubble off of his bones in the middle of a flame-filled ballroom. It wasn’t fun. He wasn’t “doing what he loved.” Unless he loved the feeling of a burning sensation covering his entire body and slowly draining away his life. I don’t know…he WAS at a Great White show, maybe he was into that.

A couple of weeks ago, a NY Yankees pitcher flew his small jet into a building – again, people said “Oh, he died flying, which is what he loved more than anything.” He didn’t die FLYING. He died CRASHING. Unless his favorite thing in the world was running large modes of transportation into buildings and causing a huge disaster, as well as scaring the hell out of an entire borough of Manhatten, he didn’t die doing what he loved.

What about drug overdoses, you say? Well, the drug part IS fun. The heroin part, where the user was stoned out of their mind – it was probably a ball. BUT, the part where his heart stopped, probably a downer. Ditto for dying during sex.

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Whatever happened to predictability? The newsman? The paperboy? Jon Secada?