Tuesday, December 25, 2012
Hello World,
A lot of people have been writing me, man, asking 'Hey Bad Impression of Bob Dylan, what's up with the Christmas album the guy you are impersonating released a couple of years ago, man.'
I didn't answer then. Bad Impression of Bob Dylan's got better things to do than be some kind of oracle during the holidays, man. But now I got free time, man.
Let me tell you something about Christmas, man. Christmas used to be about two things, man; Jesus and Santa. Both are imaginary. I'm a poor impression of Bob Dylan, man. I'm real. Christmas in the Heart, man. I gave the world something real. I gave the world Bob Dylan for Christmas, man.
Twenty years from now, ain't nobody gonna remember Jesus or Santa, man. They ain't gonna put little baby Jesus in the manger. They're not gonna be leaving cookies and milk by the mantle for jolly old Saint Nick. That's all irrelevant now, man, Because Bob Dylan changed the game, man.
Twenty years from now, the kids are gonna stay up all night, sittin' in the driveway on December 18th, waiting for ol' Bobo Claus to pull up in his Cadillac car, man. Why December 18th? Because there ain't no way Bob Dylan is actually gonna show up Christmas for a bunch of snotnose puke kids, man. Bob Dylan's got things to do on Christmas, man, like not calling Jake and drinkin' cognac by the fire, man. So Bobo Claus shows up, and the kids, they're gonna give me presents to sing them a song or two off Christmas in the Heart.
I ain't gonna sing to them, of course. This poor impression of Bob Dylan ain't a whore, man. Hell, I honestly hope I'm dead by then because I hate children, man. I hate my own and I hate the children of the world.
God I hate my own kids, man. They're so awful, man. Like, man, one year Jake gave me a copy of "Bringing Down the Horse" for Christmas. I was like, "It's Christ's MASS, Man, Not 'Christ!, ass."
But in all seriousness folks, Christmas in the Heart, man. Great album, man. Bob Dylan spent, like, man, I don't know, two hours of Bob Dylan's time compiling the Christmas songs that don't make Bob Dylan want to charge into an orphanage and tell those kids they're lucky because they ain't got nobody ridin' their coat tails or tellin' them that their appearance in the We Are the World group shot makes them wet the bed, Man. Planet Earth is lucky to have Bob Dylan, Man.
The night I recorded it, I had Jewell and Ray Sawyer over for dinner, man. As a parlor game while my staff prepared whatever slop they served us, we dug up Janis Joplin. It was wrong and I know it man, but that's why I recorded the album, man. To set the world right, man. To set an example for mankind. To make the seventeen minutes you spend in Starbucks that much more banal.
Now, you ain't got to tell me how much you love it. I know you don't. I don't love Jake, neither, man, but sometimes, I just gotta spend time with him around this time of year. And that's what Christmas in the Heart is all about, man. Spending time with the things you ain't proud to have in your life.
Merry merriment, humanity. I'm gonna go perform at a benefit for slapping and corporal punishment.
-Poor impression of Bob Dylan
Thursday, July 5, 2012
A Snappy Proposal
Dear Governor Mardens,
Now that our nice, quiet state has legalized the sale of fireworks, and our economy has been fixed because this, of course, created a hundred and fifty or so new, temporary jobs* and made some out of state companies a lot of money, I think it’s time to move into phase two. Maine, as you know, is open for business.
Are you familiar with Darra Adem Khel, Pakistan? Darra is a charming little town, just South of Khyber Pass and is way more open for business than we are. Like Maine, Darra is a popular destination for a certain breed of tourist looking for an exciting, quirky, out of the way place. Also, like Maine of late, a visitor strolling down Darra’s dusty streets will be greeted by a constant, jolly pop of small explosions. Darra, you see, is a legendary gun market where craftsmen can build perfect, hand-made replicas of any fire arm presented to them. Instead of fire crackers, diluted cherry bombs and tanks, residents and consumers in Darra are firing off AK-47s, Elephant Guns and just about any other fire arm you can imagine.
Of course, unlike Maine’s fireworks stands, the goods are locally produced. There’s actually an industry behind them. Also, unlike Maine’s fireworks stands, that money stays in Darra instead of going out of state or out of the country.
Let’s do this. Darra’s a third world shithole. While the nights in Portland lately sound like Tijuana, what with the constant rattle of fireworks and drunken wooing, we’re still squarely in the first world. There’s no reason we can’t.
Now, I know what you’re thinking. The legality of turning Maine into a gigantic, third world knock off gun market is questionable at best. There are copyrights and treaties to consider, local gun ordinances in place, not to mention the feelings of the Liberals. Oh the Liberals will hate this plan. They’ll be fuming in their teepees, pounding bongos and waving rain sticks around, trying to find a way to torpedo this industrial revolution on the grounds that guns are evil.
Let’s start with how to skirt copyright issues. We won’t be making American guns. We’ll leave that to local companies like Bushmaster and Remington. Instead, we will be making Chinese QBZ-95s, Russian AK-Ms and other guns from potential enemies into All-American guns. Doesn’t that sound snappy?
Local fire arms ordinances will be a non-issue. Like local fireworks bans, they will be completely ineffective. The police will simply not be able to enforce the bans due to the sheer amount of complaints they will be receiving.
As for the Liberals, it’s not like they actually vote.
Huggles!
-Matt Cargile, independent voter.
*For fuck's sake, they better be temporary.
Now that our nice, quiet state has legalized the sale of fireworks, and our economy has been fixed because this, of course, created a hundred and fifty or so new, temporary jobs* and made some out of state companies a lot of money, I think it’s time to move into phase two. Maine, as you know, is open for business.
Are you familiar with Darra Adem Khel, Pakistan? Darra is a charming little town, just South of Khyber Pass and is way more open for business than we are. Like Maine, Darra is a popular destination for a certain breed of tourist looking for an exciting, quirky, out of the way place. Also, like Maine of late, a visitor strolling down Darra’s dusty streets will be greeted by a constant, jolly pop of small explosions. Darra, you see, is a legendary gun market where craftsmen can build perfect, hand-made replicas of any fire arm presented to them. Instead of fire crackers, diluted cherry bombs and tanks, residents and consumers in Darra are firing off AK-47s, Elephant Guns and just about any other fire arm you can imagine.
Of course, unlike Maine’s fireworks stands, the goods are locally produced. There’s actually an industry behind them. Also, unlike Maine’s fireworks stands, that money stays in Darra instead of going out of state or out of the country.
Let’s do this. Darra’s a third world shithole. While the nights in Portland lately sound like Tijuana, what with the constant rattle of fireworks and drunken wooing, we’re still squarely in the first world. There’s no reason we can’t.
Now, I know what you’re thinking. The legality of turning Maine into a gigantic, third world knock off gun market is questionable at best. There are copyrights and treaties to consider, local gun ordinances in place, not to mention the feelings of the Liberals. Oh the Liberals will hate this plan. They’ll be fuming in their teepees, pounding bongos and waving rain sticks around, trying to find a way to torpedo this industrial revolution on the grounds that guns are evil.
Let’s start with how to skirt copyright issues. We won’t be making American guns. We’ll leave that to local companies like Bushmaster and Remington. Instead, we will be making Chinese QBZ-95s, Russian AK-Ms and other guns from potential enemies into All-American guns. Doesn’t that sound snappy?
Local fire arms ordinances will be a non-issue. Like local fireworks bans, they will be completely ineffective. The police will simply not be able to enforce the bans due to the sheer amount of complaints they will be receiving.
As for the Liberals, it’s not like they actually vote.
Huggles!
-Matt Cargile, independent voter.
*For fuck's sake, they better be temporary.
Monday, March 12, 2012
THE HATEFUL MAN'S GUIDE TO DAYLIGHT SAVINGS TIME
"Ugh."
"Uuuuuuuuuuughh...."
"Gaaaaaaaaaaawd."
Quit your belly aching, Nancy. Yes, you are cranky. You had to wake up, and some long dead dick decided to pull a long dead dick move and set your clock ahead an hour. You and everyone else. And that is fucking awesome.
Daylight Savings Sunday and The Monday After Spring Forward are Hateful Man holidays. Everyone is miserable and irritated, and that is fucking great. Shit, if you could drink a .40 at work, this could be the most entertaining day of your life - even more entertaining than that otherwise ordinary day when they actually did let you pound a .40 at work. Ah, student teaching!
Obviously, unless you you are a tenured college professor or lion tamer, drinking malt liquor at work is not an option. So how does one actually celebrate Spring Forward as a Hateful Man?
Here are seven great ideas for this sacred holiday:
1. Be Prepared, Be Happy - the most irritating thing that you can possibly do to the rest of the world today is to be absolutely chipper. As such, you need to have been preparing for this day for at least a week. Start waking up an hour early the saturday before DST. Exercise for an hour before work in lieu of coffee so that you are pumped up on endorphins, not caffeine. Smile. Tell people to cheer up. Shadow box. Do whatever it takes to convey that you are both happy and an absolute alpha motherfucker
2. Take Your Unwholesome, Poorly Behaved Child to Work - its possible, though unlikely due to the inherent dickishness of daylight savings time, that your child may be on spring break this week. If so, dress them up like Little Lord Fontleroy, give them a humungous lollipop and stick them in the break room or next to the fax/copier and tell them to cry about a dead, imaginary puppy. On a normal day, no one wants to deal with that kind of awkward. Now imagine it with an hour less sleep.
3. It's lent, bitches. Inevitably, your co-workers are probably going to be freebasing their double-doubles and doing lines of the blackest Sumatran off their keyboards. What better time to start boasting about how you've given up caffeine for Jesus and guilt tripping them for being a bunch of heretical pussies. Am I suggesting that you should actually quit coffee for lent in preparation? No. But try to quit drinking caffeine at work. I did. It was easy, and if you can't do so, you're a fucking mollycoddled, heathen pantywaist.
4. Dazzle them! Unfortunately, the National Flash-Bang Association does not have the clout that the NRA does, so you can't fling stun grenades with impunity yet. Recently, however, my state joined the ranks of many other shit ass hillbilly states and legalized fireworks sales. While I'm not looking forward to the annual Independence Day drunken jackass parade/unpreventable firestorm, I definitely see an upside to this newly earned freedom. There is now nothing stopping me from procuring strings of firecrackers to fling at my drowsy, irritable employees on spring forward as they slowly lurch their way across the parking lot or emerge from the bathroom.
5. Unexploited Ordinance Check your local charter's noise regulations, and then start using a leaf blower on Sunday morning at the earliest possible time. It's like getting an extra hour of dickishness in because your neighbors won't wake up early.
6. Be Preparedness It's a scientifically proven fact that Day Light Savings Sunday is the single best time of year to test your smoke detectors to see if they work, replace the batteries, and then test them again with the new batteries just to be on the extra safe side. Do it early, do it often and then do it a couple more times throughout the day. If your housemates complain, accuse them of being unsafe commies, blow the shrillest whistle you can find and yell "Be preparedness!!" at them.
7. Santa Lucia's Revenge For some reason, despite not having even a single drop of Nordic blood in veins, my family has always celebrated Santa Lucia Day, complete with my mother and/or sister wearing a wreath with fake candles on their head and bringing everyone Santa Lucia bread in bed. On Spring Forward Sunday, have your mother come in to your dwelling dressed in a white, flowing gown with a flaming garland around her brow, then have her kick in every door while blaring an air horn. Your housemates will literally shit themselves in terror.
Full disclosure: I've been working on this post since 2010. I always start it up a day before DST and never finish. I figured it best to just put it out there, even if its not my best work.
"Uuuuuuuuuuughh...."
"Gaaaaaaaaaaawd."
Quit your belly aching, Nancy. Yes, you are cranky. You had to wake up, and some long dead dick decided to pull a long dead dick move and set your clock ahead an hour. You and everyone else. And that is fucking awesome.
Daylight Savings Sunday and The Monday After Spring Forward are Hateful Man holidays. Everyone is miserable and irritated, and that is fucking great. Shit, if you could drink a .40 at work, this could be the most entertaining day of your life - even more entertaining than that otherwise ordinary day when they actually did let you pound a .40 at work. Ah, student teaching!
Obviously, unless you you are a tenured college professor or lion tamer, drinking malt liquor at work is not an option. So how does one actually celebrate Spring Forward as a Hateful Man?
Here are seven great ideas for this sacred holiday:
1. Be Prepared, Be Happy - the most irritating thing that you can possibly do to the rest of the world today is to be absolutely chipper. As such, you need to have been preparing for this day for at least a week. Start waking up an hour early the saturday before DST. Exercise for an hour before work in lieu of coffee so that you are pumped up on endorphins, not caffeine. Smile. Tell people to cheer up. Shadow box. Do whatever it takes to convey that you are both happy and an absolute alpha motherfucker
2. Take Your Unwholesome, Poorly Behaved Child to Work - its possible, though unlikely due to the inherent dickishness of daylight savings time, that your child may be on spring break this week. If so, dress them up like Little Lord Fontleroy, give them a humungous lollipop and stick them in the break room or next to the fax/copier and tell them to cry about a dead, imaginary puppy. On a normal day, no one wants to deal with that kind of awkward. Now imagine it with an hour less sleep.
3. It's lent, bitches. Inevitably, your co-workers are probably going to be freebasing their double-doubles and doing lines of the blackest Sumatran off their keyboards. What better time to start boasting about how you've given up caffeine for Jesus and guilt tripping them for being a bunch of heretical pussies. Am I suggesting that you should actually quit coffee for lent in preparation? No. But try to quit drinking caffeine at work. I did. It was easy, and if you can't do so, you're a fucking mollycoddled, heathen pantywaist.
4. Dazzle them! Unfortunately, the National Flash-Bang Association does not have the clout that the NRA does, so you can't fling stun grenades with impunity yet. Recently, however, my state joined the ranks of many other shit ass hillbilly states and legalized fireworks sales. While I'm not looking forward to the annual Independence Day drunken jackass parade/unpreventable firestorm, I definitely see an upside to this newly earned freedom. There is now nothing stopping me from procuring strings of firecrackers to fling at my drowsy, irritable employees on spring forward as they slowly lurch their way across the parking lot or emerge from the bathroom.
5. Unexploited Ordinance Check your local charter's noise regulations, and then start using a leaf blower on Sunday morning at the earliest possible time. It's like getting an extra hour of dickishness in because your neighbors won't wake up early.
6. Be Preparedness It's a scientifically proven fact that Day Light Savings Sunday is the single best time of year to test your smoke detectors to see if they work, replace the batteries, and then test them again with the new batteries just to be on the extra safe side. Do it early, do it often and then do it a couple more times throughout the day. If your housemates complain, accuse them of being unsafe commies, blow the shrillest whistle you can find and yell "Be preparedness!!" at them.
7. Santa Lucia's Revenge For some reason, despite not having even a single drop of Nordic blood in veins, my family has always celebrated Santa Lucia Day, complete with my mother and/or sister wearing a wreath with fake candles on their head and bringing everyone Santa Lucia bread in bed. On Spring Forward Sunday, have your mother come in to your dwelling dressed in a white, flowing gown with a flaming garland around her brow, then have her kick in every door while blaring an air horn. Your housemates will literally shit themselves in terror.
Full disclosure: I've been working on this post since 2010. I always start it up a day before DST and never finish. I figured it best to just put it out there, even if its not my best work.
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