Excerpt from My Proposal
The majority of retailer’s expect the gross value of sales generated from their event participation to be ‘at least three times the cost of exhibiting’. Thusly, the ROI, or return on investment is enormous and undoubtedly, necessary. In addition, event marketing provides a portal to the CRM process, building brand loyalty. It also appeals to a consumer’s senses, in that it creates an urgency for stabbing me in the face. Or strangling me with boredom. Or maybe jerking me off into a cup. So many great ideas. Ever wondered what would happen if you could fly? I would poop on someone’s head. With vengeance. Just cover them in feces. To the point where they couldn’t breathe. What a way to go. Suffocated in shit from a flying human. I would kill for some Concerta. It wouldn’t change the fact that I have nothing to do. But at least I would have the drive to do nothing really well. I would be the most motivated slacker ever. The worst part of this is that I over-caffienated this morning. 4 cups of coffee, 4 diet pills, and my nitric oxide drink. A grand total of 625 GRAMS OF CAFFIENE! Needless to say, I’m jittery and feel like I’m bouncing out of my skin. Then I have my clock displayed in large font on the corner of my screen so that I can check it every 15 seconds. It’s 1:08…wait a second…it’s 1:09. Just checked it again, still 1:09. Just realized I referenced the morning instead of the afternoon. Boredom is the reason I created this proposal. Needed something to do. It was fun for like 5 minutes. Now, as every second passes, I realize that I have nothing to fucking do. I have talents. I could do something. I can bench 300 pounds with almost no effort. Surely there is something in this office they need lifted over my chest. And not to brag, but I’m really good at stringing profanities together. Just looked over at my Pandora, Jesca Hoop is hot. I mean really hot. Just discovered her. Not literally. I’m sure she existed before me. She wears a coon skin hat. Never thought those were overly attractive. Now I have a differing opinion. Oh my God, she is so hot. Note to self: Look for pics of Jesca Hoop this evening. Got a plan now. Of course now I have to wait anxiously four more hours and then Jesca and me have a date. I think a person is really bored when you spend your afternoon planning your evenings masturbation schedule. I believe it will involve Ms. Hoop, me, and an acoustic set in the nude. Wow, that is the lamest fantasy I have ever come up with. That’s how excruciatingly bored I am. Nice, it’s 1:21. Just checked my To Do List: do stuff, do more stuff, and finish off with doing stuff. Since it’s after lunch I would say I’m on the ‘do more stuff’, but not quite into the ‘finish off with doing stuff’. Just adjusted my flip flop. Took a drink of water. Glanced at calendar. It’s the 8th of June. Just so you know. It’s a Tuesday. Sun sets at 8:32 tonight. Pandora is playing Death Cab For Cutie, which I do not think is similar to Jesca Hoop. Nice job Pandora. What’s next, I’m going to guess John Mayer, who also has nothing similar to the Hoopster. Wondering how long I can keep this going? I mean so far I have hit another page. Oh nice, Ingrid Michaelson, she is similar to Jesca Hoop, and she’s pretty hot too. Excellent choice, Pandora. Welcome to my threesome fantasy Ms. Michaelson. This acoustic session is going to be amazing. For the love of God, give me something to do. I’m begging. Anything. Give me a broom and tell me to clean. At least I would feel like I have purpose. Not really. But it would be better than this. My water tastes weird, but I think it is the bottle I put it in. Yep. Definitely the bottle. Yesterday, I was drinking water out of a bottle that I had put food trash in. I forgot. Had a small fit with the moldy peach pit hit my lips. I’m an effing genius. Thinking that later I might try to keep up with Pandora. I will type the lyrics as the songs play. Should go swimmingly. No wait. I have plan. I will plan a months worth of workouts.
Part 2 of Note to My Father’s Brother whom I’ve Never Met but Who Thinks He Has the Right to Criticize Me: A Facebook Perspective
AllaRa Adam September 10 at 7:29am
By the way, Henry Miller died many years ago and you can’t write worth shit attempting to imitate him.
Reply:
I always felt Open Letter to My Girlfriend’s Vibrator was my Tropic of Cancer. Did you know that I too am an active member of the socialist party and worked as a proofreader at a newspaper in my youth? But look at me, attempting to have a discussion about Henry Miller with an expert like yourself. I feel as if I am a fool.
I guess I will just give up writing. I’m destroyed. My heart is broken and I feel as if I can not go on. The opinion of a douchebag with a snake for a picture and a weird nickname like AllaRa Adam means so much to me that, without his unflagging support I just can not make it in this world. I feel like Henry Miller, when he went before the Supreme Court to prove his work was not pornography, except in his case, he was arguing before 9 justices appointed by the President, and in my case, I’m reading emails sent by a dirty white trash idiot.
Well, I guess I will have to stop shaving the very top of my head, leaving the sides and back attempting to resemble Henry’s male pattern baldness. No more will I send taunting letters to feminist Kate Millett trying to get her to protest my blog. I will immediately move back from the south of France where I have been residing with my two hot French lovers rollicking with sexual abandon.
Maybe I will come to the middle of Kansas where I can work on my sculptures that are an attempt at modern art like Pablo Picasso, only not very good and no one in their right mind would want to purchase them. Or perhaps I will build websites like Sarah Nichols, except in her case she troubles herself by building easy navigation, and you always know what the fuck the website is used for. Know anyone else like that? http://www.flickr.com/photos/23266248@N06/
Oh, I don’t know. My world feels as if it has been turned upside down. I need time. Time to contemplate my next move. You have rocked me to my foundations, AllaRa, and I must begrudgingly accept that you know far more than I ever will, given your unflagging ability to contact me when I asked you specifically to just leave me alone. Because you knew how I was dying to know what a filthy pedophile in hiding truly thinks of my work.
By the way, I feel like the work My Awesome Boat http://shakespearestoe.wordpress.com/2009/08/20/my-awesome-boat/, is very similar in tone to the work of Herman Melville.
AllaRa Adam September 10 at 9:01am
How sad you are whan you try too hard. Oh, Allara is not a nickname, silly. It is an email address: allaraadam… it just drops the last letters of my first, middle, and last name. My nickname is “Gadget”. Obvious why when one is in the vicinity of my studio. I do robotics.
As for my website, it is very popular around the world among those very gifted, and easy to navigate if not retarded.
Reply:
There I go again, trying to hard. I apologize, Gadget, I truly do. Though I do find it strange, of the two items you argue, nicknames and robotics, you steer clear of the charge “pedophile in hiding”. Oh my gosh, I’m doing it again aren’t I? Trying to hard. I’m probably making you super-sad. 
By the way, what was the link to your website again?
AllaRa Adam September 10 at 9:16am Report
Not at all. But get over yourself. You are old and ugly now. Not something that would appeal to a pedophile.
AllaRa Adam September 10 at 9:17am Report
Perhaps that is a confession? Son, I am your VERY old uncle.
AllaRa Adam September 10 at 9:24am Report
The link to my website is:
http://epiphany3.com
Navigation is intuitively obvious, but explained in several places for the mentally challenged.
If you missed it, his website was the punchline to this story.
Ode to Hardee’s Marketing Department
How do you market a meat so despised
no one would eat it-
until you fry it
and place it
upon a vegetable oil filled doughy creation
called a biscuit?
Hand-rolled by
a pot smoking loser
in a stain covered polo
proudly displaying your logo.
My, oh my,
at six hundred and ten calories
and forty three grams of fat
it brings me to my knees
as my arteries harden
and my ever limitless hypertension
strains under the
one thousand six hundred grams of sodium.
some would call it criminal
though I believe your only crime
was making it delicious.
Most would hide it
embarrassed of it’s contents
not you,
marketing department of Hardee’s
no
you proudly wear it as a medal of honor
like Churchill
in a fast food battle of wits
that you
yes you
have already won
by honoring the meat
created from bowels
of swine,
poultry,
beef
and probably cat.
asking me as I go through your
drive thru
“Would you like to try our new
Oscar Mayer Fried Bologna Biscuit.”
My New Beard!
I’ve decided to grow a beard. Not an ordinary beard mind you. Ordinary beards are for pussies and your Kenny Roger’s. Nope, I’m going to grow an extravagant beard. How extravagant you ask? Only the most extravagant beard this Earth has ever seen. Don’t believe me? How’s this for starters? One word. Glowing. That’s right, a glowing , green neon beard. How will I do it? Well, lightning bugs. If you ask me, they have always been the curse upon humanity. Flying around, glowing, trying to get laid with bright green asses. Show offs. I want to get laid, if only my ass would glow. God, Lightning bugs are just so fucking arrogant. Like tiny little pussy magnets flaunting themselves right in front of us. All I want to do right now is fuck up a lightning bug. Now, where was I? I can’t fucking think straight with all this lightning bug tail floating around me and all I have to get laid is this itchy ass fucking beard.
Bella
Fading from my garden of thought
Like a fluttering
skittish
butterfly-
with wings of cheese cloth
my eyes fail to fully capture its flight.
The months bore on into my heart
digging an unpleasant hole-
deep
agonizing
unable to fill the void left behind
Though I try.
I attempt to replenish the emptiness
with so many things,
unnecessary flights of fancy,
hobbies, interests and mostly-
addictions
each one leaving the maw
larger still and more aching.
I succumb to fury,
wrathful, menacing
biting, gnawing at my skin
eating away at the fabric of my being.
and then
nothing.
All of my attempts were for naught
she still exists,
not in my plane
not in my universe
but she does exist.
Her body is tethered to my planet,
by an umbilical
unbreakable
my exact memories have turned
to vague flittering images
but images and memories
are the same.
I remember her hair
soft wisps’ of golden blond curls
attached to a head that contains
rich curious brown eyes
and red pert lips that can make
the hardest man laugh.
I smile
and I spend the day with her
in my heart
we walk
in the park
and watch butterflies
with cheese cloth wings.
His First Beer
I can’t, I’m sorry. No really. I can’t. What would they say? I mean really. They can be quite harsh and judgemental. Nothing against you, but, you know, have to please the supporters. Okay, okay. One beer. You’d think being the Son of God and all, I would have tasted this before now, but, yada yada, it can get quite busy being Jesus and all. So one beer, then I gotta go.
MMM. That looks quite delicious in that frosty mug. What do you call this again? Molson? From Canada right? Always loved Canada, so peaceful. Of course, I pretty much love everyone, but let’s face it, Canadians are just so easy going. Also, you might not know this, but their health care system is phenomenal. Works like a charm. I’m not one to take sides, except for the side of good of course, but Canadians and healthcare go together like…like…God and prayer, perfect you know.
So, here we go, down the hatch. Oh wow! That is amazing. It has bite but yet, goes down smoothly. I’ve always been a wine drinker per se, but this is nice. Might have to take on a new hobby, water into beer. Ha, who says the Almighty doesn’t have a sense of humor? Know what else? The frosty mug is a nice touch. Really delights the lips as the amber hops hits the throat. Hey! Would you care for some bread? I don’t mind, really. What’s that? What are these? Goldfish? No, I’ve never had them. Not sure about the orange dust coating them. Alright, tried the beer, pretty sure fish shaped crackers would be okay.
What’s that? I’m not really sure why they do that. They do use me in that capacity alot. Wish they wouldn’t really. I’m more of a peaceful kind of Dude really. Not much into the angry wrathful thing. I’m more of the turn the other cheek kind. Let’s just put it this way, war is not my thing. I really want to put that out there. I mean, really, check me out, long hair, beard, robes, sandals, I’m pretty much a hippy. I would fathom, you don’t like hippies, you’re really not going to be that big into me.
Another one? Oh, I don’t know, don’t want to be a glutten. You have plenty? Oh, what the heck, you do only live once. Ha, sorry, couldn’t help Myself.
Words of Wisdom from the old Bearded Man at Theo’s Colonial Bar
As I sat on the sticky peanut shell covered stool bracing myself against the beer stained counter of Theo’s, the days stresses had reached an apex of tension and anxiety within me. I knew though, that soon he would enter, riding upon his ‘73 Fanta orange Harley, the chrome properly rusted from years of use, his beard a burley brush of crisp hair, his bald pate covered with a browned and decrepate st louis cadinal’s baseball cap, his skin sallow and dried up from sun damage and the slow alcohol poisoning he had succumbed to all these years, and he would sit beside me and make my world better.
I didn’t even notice he had entered, until his words floated across me, warming me, enticing me with new and wonderful rhymes of an ancient tongue. “I’s once ate a slug, all’s salted up and ulcered.” I smiled and took in his genius, preparing myself for the dance of wise poetry spoken from a sage. Oh, I knew what he was getting at, the slug an analogy for the danger’s of this world, he prepared like meal, and then he faced and a great battle had occurred. Sheer brilliance.
“Got’s me a woman, but’s you’s fine. I’d stick my dick in you, I can’s deals with the itch.” He spoke to Doris, the hag bartendress, he complimented her as if she were a princess from a great Arabian kingdom.
“Don’t make me throw you out again.” Doris joked. The glowering frown upon her face a mask to hide the smile beneath.
Without a pause, for his brain synapsed and crackled with wit ready at a moment’s notice. “Don’ts get all fuckin’ bent of shape bitch. All’s fine.” Whispering towards me he added, “Cunt.” I chuckled. He was on in rare this evening and I was about to be engulfed in all of worldly delights.
He enjoyed Pall Malls and it was often that you could catch a waft of the fragrant aroma as he wheezed a billow of fumes into your face, hacking and coughing as he did so. “Fuck the po po”, he’d often exclaim showing his defiance to authority. Fuck the po po indeed.
A lover of the arts he speak often of the works of Cletus, Festus and Earl, I myself not from the art world I lacked the understanding of their works, however I truly cannot wait to see what they can do with a bottle and a prostitute. It sounded quite intriguing. I have always enjoyed performance pieces.
Being both wise and tempered in the arts, I was quite surprised to also find that he was fond of the literary world, especially a quarterly he spoke quite endearing of called “Score”, a rather raucaus and out of the mainstream piece of bookish entertainment. He would often quote such pieces from their fold as “Raquel had the tits of a 18 year old” and “God I could fuck that pussy all night long.” Oh, he was so wise and able. He delighted in the love of a good woman as most men do, however he understood today’s society and would spend hours humoring me by saying things like what a pansy I was and how I was probably soft just like a woman.
My Very Intelligent Argument Against Glenn Beck
I am here to discuss in strident terms why I believe Glenn Beck is bad for the direction of this country. I will be doing so through intelligent discourse and well-stated arguments. I will not use fear-mongering or catchphrases used to insight rage amongst constituents that already share his rather racist and ignorant concepts. What follows are the three main points of my discourse.
1. Glenn Beck fucks goats. Glenn Beck is a huge goatfucker. I know what you are saying, “How is Glenn Beck capable of fucking the supple, wet vagina of a young Doe with his 1 inch phallus resembling the pinky of a new born baby?” That is one of life’s mysteries and a question for the ages. All I know is this, Glenn Beck loves fresh goat pussy and can’t get enough.
2. Glenn Beck doesn’t just hate black people, he murders African Americans. His favorite pastime, when not fucking goats, is to hang out in inner cities and wait for passer’s by and slicing them in 2 with his machete. Something else about Glenn Beck, because he is a racist, and an idiot, he believes African American’s only live in inner cities.
3. Glenn Beck loves to fuck goats. I know I’ve mentioned this once before, but I really feel as if I need to get my point across. If you support Glenn Beck, you support goat fucking and that’s just wrong. I’m not judging you, if that’s what you’re into, I’m just saying, gross.
So these are my quite valid and educated arguments against Glenn Beck. I have plenty more. His addiction to public masturbation. His tattoo of Kim Jong Il across his entire back. His secret orgy’s with Rush Limbaugh, Bill O’Reilly, Sean Hannity, and, of course, a goat. But I feel that I have gotten across to you and now you need to judge for yourself. Do you really want to support a murdering, rascist goat fucker?
Ex-Wife
I love my ex-wife, I really do. I think she is amazing. Truly, amazing. I know many people say she resembles a walrus that had just eaten a heavy meal of barbeque brisket and cake, not me, I see a beautiful walrus that had just eaten a heavy meal of barbeque brisket and cake. And when she constructively judges me in that way only she can, I know she is only trying to demoralize and beat me down because she cares, cares enough to verbally rape me and shatter every hope and dream I might have. Finally, I know that when she speaks of me to others in less than flattering tones, making wild accusations and overtly critical lies that some might call slander, it’s not slander, she is protecting me. Protecting me from outside relationships that may develop into the same loveless, horrid existence we once shared. And for that, I love my ex-wife.
The Email Correspondence Between Myself and My First Girlfriend on Why She will not Accept My Facebook Friend Request
August 8, 2009
Heya Stranger,
Long time, no see. Wow, has it really been 22 years since 8th grade. Can barely remember back that far. HA HA. I can remember something’s though, namely the love we once shared. 
Anyway, I sent you a friend request on facebook, and I noticed you never accepted it. Thought you might not have recognized me since we have definitely changed in those 22 years. LOL. Anyway, I’m sending you another friend request so we can start catching up.
Yours truly,
Jeff
_____________________________________________
Jeff,
Leave me alone. Seriously, there is something wrong with you. I know it’s you that keeps calling and hanging up. Have you never heard of caller ID? Does my husband have to physically threaten you again to get my point across? I will call the police if this shit doesn’t stop. I’ve done it before, remember?
Christine
__________________________________________________
August 9, 2009
Hola Seniorita!
Just saw the message in my inbox and could not wait to read it! I’m so happy you remember who I am! It has been so long! No gray hairs on my head though. Yet! LOL. So, any kids? I can tell from your message that you’re married. That sucks. Thought we could rekindle our love! JK! You haven’t changed at all since junior high school, your husband is one lucky man! I wish I was him! LOL. Anyway, I hope to see you in my recent friend’s box any day now.
X0X0X0
Jeff
___________________________________________________
WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU? Did you leave the dead puppy on our porch? Oh my God, is that a note stuffed into it’s throat? That’s it, I’m calling the police.
Christine
____________________________________________________
August 11, 2009
Hey Christine,
Sorry it has been a few days since we have talked. I’ve been really busy moving around here and there. I’m still the same old Jeff, I can never stay in one place to long. What’s up with that friend request anyway? Must be something wrong with your computer or something. I’m a bit of a tech wiz-kid, so if you need me to I could certainly come by and look at it for you.
Your friend foreva!
Jeff
_______________________________________________________
Mr. Adams
This is Sergeant Eugene Ekland of the Springdale PD. I am asking that you stop all communication with Mrs Coldstone here and now. Also, I would like you to turn yourself in for the crimes that you are a suspect with currently. I know you know where the police station is given your rather checkered background.
________________________________________________________
August 13, 2009
Ha Ha! Christine,
You were always so funny! Playing pretend just like we did in Junior High! Remember when we played doctor? I still remember it like it was yesterday. Maybe we could play it again sometime? HAHA! I still have a dirty mind. Sorry if that is a little to dirty for facebook. JK. You know me, I’ve always liked testing the boundaries. Anyway, I’m going to go ahead and send another friend request. Maybe this time, fingers crossed.
Hugs and kisses,
Jeff
________________________________________________________
Jeff
Where’s my car? What have you done? Turn yourself in! This is madness! And is that blood? Who’s blood is this, and why did you write my name across the side of the house in it? You’re insane! Please stop I’m begging you.
_________________________________________________________
August 17, 2009
Hiya Girlfriend,
So, it looks like it’s going to be awhile before we get to talk again. I’m going to stay at this really nice resort. Yeah, I know, just call me Mr Moneybags! Anyhoo, it was fun catching up. Reminds me of how we used to talk in study hall…We were regular jabberjaws. ROFL! I don’t know why that friend request never worked…I could never believe it was just that you didn’t want to be my friend. Had to be an issue with the internet. Super Weird!!! Well, I gotta go, gonna try some new spa treatment the staff here keeps talking about, something with electricity. YIKES! I hope you have a wonderful summer and I hope we can catch up in about 6 to 12 months.
Love always,
Jeff
