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In This Issue

• DeLovely? DeLorean.
• What Would Future You Do?
• What Are Your Plans For That Junk?
• Letters to the Editors
• The Adventures of Young Boy and Park Girl in 4-D
• Hipsters Remember Awkward Tweens at Brooklyn Bar
• You Can Call Me Ishmael Anytime
• Oh, Take Me Over Awkwardly
• People Know Me. Cool People.
• Not Even Time Thwarts Yo Mama
• I Plan To Own The Future
• How to Write Love Poems for Girls Who Can Read
• Lies My Robots Told Me
• My Ears Are Bleeding! Wait, That's Just My Vagina.
• Veritas Forum Takes Stand Against Death
• Too Jewish to Play Ska?
• Damned Interface Technology!
• The Church of Timeology
• THEY WATCH
• The Staff of 21.5

Andres Vedova

That's it?  That's all you're going to do?  Jesus Christ, color me underwhelmed.  I mean, seriously.  All that junk, girl, all that junk inside that trunk, and all you're going to do is get get get me drunk?  Look, I don't want to get unnecessarily angry at you, and I don't want to blame you for things that aren't your fault, but frankly, I find this representative of a larger problem the world is facing today.  People like you have gifts, true GIFTS - I mean, really, just look at all that junk! - and they squander it on base hedonism.

    There are so many things you could do with that junk, girl.  There are starving people in China, and elsewhere, who would KILL for all that junk.  Am I suggesting you should feed your ass to them?  You bet your ass I am! Alternatively, you could give them ass transplants so they could live off your fat. Hell, it would even be more productive than your current endeavor if you fed them with food off your ass using it like a dessert cart - it sure as hell does stick out that much.

    Oh, God, no, I'm not saying that's a bad thing at all, not in the slightest.  Didn't you hear me before?  It's a gift!  It's just that your intentions are a little misguided.

    Do you have any idea how many heroin addicts there are in this country alone?  Over 750,000.  Yep, 750,000 people have to shoot up junk every day to feel alive.  Why don't you let them shoot up your junk instead?  I don't know a lot about the chemical plausibility of this, but it makes sense, doesn't it?  Junk for junk?  It'll be less expensive and addictive.  Okay, yes, I'll admit to you that your ass is addictive, but really, it can't be as bad as heroin.

    The people you help don't even have to be down on their luck.  Helping anybody would be better than just getting me drunk, girl.  I mean, come on now, look at me, I'm already drunk!  It's completely unnecessary!  It's overkill!

    For instance, sports teams spend millions of dollars on stadiums with retractable roofs for when it's cold outside.  Wasted money, it seems to me, when all they really need in order to block off the top of their stadium is your ass!  You can just climb up into the highest rows of the stadium and stick it out there, and the sun will shine on where the sun don't shine rather than shining on the athletes.  Also, the stadiums won't need heating systems, because your ass is so phat that it will keep the whole stadium hot!  Problem solved and money saved!

    Phat!  I said phat!  P-H-A-T!  You know I would never call you fat, girl.

    You could also do something for a government institution.  Hell, my buddy Ryan works for NASA, and they've run into some trouble as of late.  They're working on a space station, but nothing they can find is adequate for gravity generation.  When I spoke to him the other day, I suggested that we use your ass!  God knows it's big enough to create its own gravitational field.  The only problem is that, knowing you, you'd probably end up trying to get get get some of the goddamn SPACEMEN drunk!  And there is NOTHING more dangerous than being drunk in space, girl!

 All that ass, girl, ALL THAT ASS inside those jeans!  And now all you want to do is make me scream?  Pardon me for not obliging, but I really don't particularly enjoy screaming, and if you're some sort of sexual deviant that gets off on guys screaming, you can definitely count me out.  Screaming isn't even a positive reaction!  At least people LIKE being drunk.  Do you need me to go on?  Do you need me to explain what you could get done besides make make making me scream?

    You could be adding joy to people's lives, you know - instead of screaming they could be playing.  Because not only is that ass so big, girl, but it's also so round!  Why don't you invent a sport with it?  I'm sure it would bounce nicely.  Sports today are too monotonous and commercial - why not teach the world Fergieball?  I don't even care what the rules are, girl, you can make them up, AS LONG AS it does NOT involve any getting people drunk or making people scream!  You have such a goddamn one-track mind!

    And why the hell do you keep telling me what they are?  Come on, I heard you the first time, and you're totally not even a camel.

    Though storing water in them would be a pretty good idea, don't you think?  Oh shut up, I know that camels don't actually store water in their humps; congratulations, you took fifth-grade science; it appears that the makers of the CamelBak are the only ones who didn't.  But stay with me, here, girl!  The CamelBak is an even better analogy! You could hollow out your ass, fill it with water, and attach a tube that comes over your shoulder!  I'm dancing up a storm, so I'd sure like some nice cool water!  What if I could just get some, right now, from your ass?  No, no, not get that, you slut, dammit, ONE-TRACK!  REALLY!  What if I could TAKE A DRINK of - oh, fuck this, really you're hopeless.

    I'm not sure if I really care anymore, girl.  Really.  Is this all that matters to you?  Just get get getting me drunk and make make making me scream?  Okay, I'll humor you, but this is the last time.  I'm really ready to give up but I'll give you one more chance for redemption: What you gonna do with all that breast - all that breast inside your shirt?

    You're what?  Really?  You're going to make me work!  Now we're finally getting somewhere, girl!  Tell me where I should work!  Are you going to make me do a two-year stint in the Peace Corps?  Six months with UNICEF?  A week with Habitat for Humanity?  An hour in the hospital gift shop?

    Enron?  You're going to make me work for Enron?  Forget this, girl, you lost me.

    Be sure to tune in next month when I explain to J-Kwon that only the people who WORK at the club actually get tips.