A Conversation sparked by Christopher Locke's 'Gonzo Marketing: Winning Through Worst Practices'. Started by Jeneane Sessum in 2001, Gonzo Engaged was the first Blogger.com team weblog. Let the games continue.
Saturday, December 21, 2002
Just in time for the holidays
Inspired by the Despair Inc demotivators everyone has been linking, I made up a T-shirt based on a favorite phrase of my brother-in-law.
Do read the small print.
Do read the small print.
in hiding
Dear Mr's Rambone and Smackdown,
I have recently escaped from my own weblog and have been taken in by a very kind cult where most of the day we work over bubbling cauldrons of lambs wool (I was so happy to learn of your sheep fucking lineage!), which we die in more than 2440002 colors to knit festive sweaters. Most often we give these to the homeless or our favorite mail carriers. My favorite's name is Sam. He comes by at least twice a day--says he likes my wool, but that's another story.
You see, man name of cordialboy runs this cult. I am not sure his intentions for us are honorable. From time to time he is nasty. Is that right for a cult leader? My understanding in pledging to the cult was that everyone would wear a mask at all times and pretend to be quite cordial (hence our leader's name, cordialboy). But the mask has dropped and I've realized many of my cult mates, especially one responsible for dying the blue wool, can be quite witchy.
I am at a loss. The only solution I have--my only hope at this juncture for making it out of this cult, or for staying over the next 30-60 years, is if you Mr. Rambone, and You Mr. Smackdown, give me all of your money, now. I am happy to meet you anywhere. I am happy to bring wool for you. Our wool is extra virgin 200 percent, which means your father's dong schwing has never touched it. Does this mean anything to you? In the will he left, he said it would.
Blessings,
Sheepdye Girl
I have recently escaped from my own weblog and have been taken in by a very kind cult where most of the day we work over bubbling cauldrons of lambs wool (I was so happy to learn of your sheep fucking lineage!), which we die in more than 2440002 colors to knit festive sweaters. Most often we give these to the homeless or our favorite mail carriers. My favorite's name is Sam. He comes by at least twice a day--says he likes my wool, but that's another story.
You see, man name of cordialboy runs this cult. I am not sure his intentions for us are honorable. From time to time he is nasty. Is that right for a cult leader? My understanding in pledging to the cult was that everyone would wear a mask at all times and pretend to be quite cordial (hence our leader's name, cordialboy). But the mask has dropped and I've realized many of my cult mates, especially one responsible for dying the blue wool, can be quite witchy.
I am at a loss. The only solution I have--my only hope at this juncture for making it out of this cult, or for staying over the next 30-60 years, is if you Mr. Rambone, and You Mr. Smackdown, give me all of your money, now. I am happy to meet you anywhere. I am happy to bring wool for you. Our wool is extra virgin 200 percent, which means your father's dong schwing has never touched it. Does this mean anything to you? In the will he left, he said it would.
Blessings,
Sheepdye Girl
Friday, December 20, 2002
Dear Mr. Rambone,
It is solely in your honourable interest that we de-cloak our secret organization to send you this urgent missive:
It is essential that you contact us immediately at the following drop spot - bringing all your cash, credit cards and other valuables. We are the only ones that can save you - our SWAT team will meet you at the appointed place, take your money, and give you the secret handshake that will enable you to command all the sheep that possess the visage of your venerable father to leave their spirits at once and dive into the body of Trent Lott. If you do not do this, who knows where this conspiracy will lead?
Thanking you deeply - Obeisances and obsequies will obviate your certain ruin!
The Smackdown Lemming Friars inc.
It is solely in your honourable interest that we de-cloak our secret organization to send you this urgent missive:
It is essential that you contact us immediately at the following drop spot - bringing all your cash, credit cards and other valuables. We are the only ones that can save you - our SWAT team will meet you at the appointed place, take your money, and give you the secret handshake that will enable you to command all the sheep that possess the visage of your venerable father to leave their spirits at once and dive into the body of Trent Lott. If you do not do this, who knows where this conspiracy will lead?
Thanking you deeply - Obeisances and obsequies will obviate your certain ruin!
The Smackdown Lemming Friars inc.
Ontological Therapy song
(Let's sing together to the tune of a very popular xmas song)
On the 12th day of Xmas my True Love gave to me.
Bluetooth enabled
TCP/IP addressable
Infrared port discoverable
Ontological Neurolinguistic Purple P-Spot Plug Kit
with spare batteries
Bada Bing
On the 12th day of Xmas my True Love gave to me.
Bluetooth enabled
TCP/IP addressable
Infrared port discoverable
Ontological Neurolinguistic Purple P-Spot Plug Kit
with spare batteries
Bada Bing
Dr Oseke Umalagbaminakumma Evil Doings Found in Florida
Dear Mister Eminemenemenimaneminemenima
Obviously Sir, you are sincere in your attempt of receiving 47% of $487632.23 million that is due to me and my family. However I must say that if one of your neighbor's sheep has any resemblence to my late sheep-fucking father then I beg you to stay away Sir, since this that may possibly be one of the agents of NSFAA and an impostor, and an accomplice to Dr Oseke Umalagbaminakumma who wants to distroy our family. The impostor may have the likeness of our father for Dr Oseke has already employed the services of the finest plastic surgeons in Rwanda to thwart our honest attempts of recovering the money. So in the end I thank you and I say - sacrifice the fucker.
Dear Sir Eminemenemenimaneminemenima, I am very greatful at your honesty and sincere attempt to help. As a reward I implore you to please send me your bank account number and a secret pin so that I may deposit a thank you sum of money for you without delay.
Mr Rambone
Obviously Sir, you are sincere in your attempt of receiving 47% of $487632.23 million that is due to me and my family. However I must say that if one of your neighbor's sheep has any resemblence to my late sheep-fucking father then I beg you to stay away Sir, since this that may possibly be one of the agents of NSFAA and an impostor, and an accomplice to Dr Oseke Umalagbaminakumma who wants to distroy our family. The impostor may have the likeness of our father for Dr Oseke has already employed the services of the finest plastic surgeons in Rwanda to thwart our honest attempts of recovering the money. So in the end I thank you and I say - sacrifice the fucker.
Dear Sir Eminemenemenimaneminemenima, I am very greatful at your honesty and sincere attempt to help. As a reward I implore you to please send me your bank account number and a secret pin so that I may deposit a thank you sum of money for you without delay.
Mr Rambone
Counter-offer
Hi Mr. Rambone,
I don't have a phone, but I do have a neighbor who has some sheep, one of whom looks a good deal like your paterfamilias of beloved memory. I will be honored to reunite you with him for a small percentage of the NSFAA's funds - say, 47%? This offer will only be open until 4 p.m., when the beast will be sacrificed to some squamous lokal deity. Certified check or AMEX only, thanks!
Eminemenemenimaneminemenima
I don't have a phone, but I do have a neighbor who has some sheep, one of whom looks a good deal like your paterfamilias of beloved memory. I will be honored to reunite you with him for a small percentage of the NSFAA's funds - say, 47%? This offer will only be open until 4 p.m., when the beast will be sacrificed to some squamous lokal deity. Certified check or AMEX only, thanks!
Eminemenemenimaneminemenima
Let Nigerian Games Begin
It is with truest trust and confidence that I make this strictly confidential urgent business proposal. I am an eldest son of a late Mr Rambone of Nigeria. My father was the best farmer and sheep fucker in the country. For that he was exiled and we forced to leave our land and move to Zimbabwe where they have plenty of sheep.
During his sheep-fucking Nigerian days and nights my father secured $487632.23 million dollars with a Nigerian Small Fucking Animals Association. Presently now we are not permitted to fuck sheep nor go to Nigeria to reclaim my father's money. For this reason I decided to seek for a trusted and reliable foreign personality, who is willing and ready to help me claim the money and transfer the money out of the country so we can buy more sheep. I am willing and ready to offer you 20% of this money for your efforts.
I would like my proposal to be kept confidential as regards to what I explained above and you can reach me urgently via mail. Please indicate your direct telephone when replying.
During his sheep-fucking Nigerian days and nights my father secured $487632.23 million dollars with a Nigerian Small Fucking Animals Association. Presently now we are not permitted to fuck sheep nor go to Nigeria to reclaim my father's money. For this reason I decided to seek for a trusted and reliable foreign personality, who is willing and ready to help me claim the money and transfer the money out of the country so we can buy more sheep. I am willing and ready to offer you 20% of this money for your efforts.
I would like my proposal to be kept confidential as regards to what I explained above and you can reach me urgently via mail. Please indicate your direct telephone when replying.
Thursday, December 19, 2002
Wednesday, December 18, 2002
Racially Insensitive Chinese Joke
This from my polish friend Kasia in Warsaw (adapted to English for your astonishment and complete waste of time)
Scene: A Young Man sits next to a Old Woman on the bus line 146 in Warsaw.
Conversations begins:
Old Woman - Excuse me. You are Chinese, right?
Young Man - No, I am not Chinese
Old Woman - Really? I thought you were Chinese.
Young Man - No, I am not! I am Polish
Old Woman - Well, then your father was Chinese, right?
Young Man - No! My father was Polish.
Old Woman - Aha! Then you mother was Chinese then!
Young Man - No! My mother was Polish too.
Old Woman - Really? I thought you were Chinese
Young Man (frustrated. wants to end this stupid conversation with this stupid old woman says) - Yeah! I am Chinese!
Old Woman - You are? That's strange because you don't look Chinese to me.
Bada Bing
Scene: A Young Man sits next to a Old Woman on the bus line 146 in Warsaw.
Conversations begins:
Old Woman - Excuse me. You are Chinese, right?
Young Man - No, I am not Chinese
Old Woman - Really? I thought you were Chinese.
Young Man - No, I am not! I am Polish
Old Woman - Well, then your father was Chinese, right?
Young Man - No! My father was Polish.
Old Woman - Aha! Then you mother was Chinese then!
Young Man - No! My mother was Polish too.
Old Woman - Really? I thought you were Chinese
Young Man (frustrated. wants to end this stupid conversation with this stupid old woman says) - Yeah! I am Chinese!
Old Woman - You are? That's strange because you don't look Chinese to me.
Bada Bing
Grim Reaper visits RageBoy
Ay. Oy. Tom, Hi. We must revisit this. I think that recent events show us that there is more need for Hoover Rolling and Noise Generation. But first some jokes and then I have to go to Court to pay the ticket and avoid arrest with the Dallas Police Hoover Unrolling Corporation.
So. A joke is this: Grim Reaper visits RageBoy
Middle of the night in Boulder.
Loud knocking on the front door.
A 55 year old caucasian man smoking a cigarette opens the door -
looks around.... and
On the welcome mat there stands a Grim Reaper
- but about 6 inches tall only.
- RageBoy can't believe his eyes. What the fuck?! he says
- Death looks up at him and says -
'I am a Grim Reaper from Little Creatures Division but don't you worry
I came for your hampster'.
Bada Bing
So. A joke is this: Grim Reaper visits RageBoy
Middle of the night in Boulder.
Loud knocking on the front door.
A 55 year old caucasian man smoking a cigarette opens the door -
looks around.... and
On the welcome mat there stands a Grim Reaper
- but about 6 inches tall only.
- RageBoy can't believe his eyes. What the fuck?! he says
- Death looks up at him and says -
'I am a Grim Reaper from Little Creatures Division but don't you worry
I came for your hampster'.
Bada Bing
Monday, December 16, 2002
Light fantastic
Hey Marek - I'm just wondering whether the opposite of a monster that can only speak and not hear is something akin to what Lessig and others call the neutral network. It so gets out of the way that everything is audible, from any end to any end. Not to reduce what you are saying to that. I think it's richer than that, but it might encompass that. Eh?
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