Gasoline Marketing (and other regrets)

"Gasoline Marketing and other regrets"
by George Richard Wagoner, Jr.

AN EXCERPT:
You know, if I had to choose the absolute worst decision of my time at General Motors as Chariman & CEO, it would be finally admitting to everyone that axing the EV1 electric-car program and not putting the right resources into hybrids made us look awful. Yes, yes, this is something that everyone has known for a while, but...you know, I thought I'd get around to mentioning that. Did everyone else see the coming trends of automobile-making? Sure. But it's not like it really screwed us. It didn't affect profitability, just innovation.

Oh, also, we need $30 billion to stay out of Chapter 11 bankruptcy protection. No, the $13.4 billion in federal loans in 2009 haven't been enough. And yes, I'm aware that it's only February. But we lost $9.6 billion in the Fourth Quarter.

Annnnnnnnnnnd if you haven't figured out who killed the electric car yet, I assure you I didn't, but man, did I stab that motherfucker a few times. I didn't exactly kill the electric car. I mean, I wasn't in completely charge until 2000. That son of a bitch was on its deathbed by the time I first sat in my big comfy chair. So...eat it.

And yet...I'm still the best thing to come out Delaware.

Frost On The Snow

"Frost On The Snow"
a collection of poems
by Robert Frost

BACK COVER:
Finally! An anthology of Robert Frost's work on the snow! Didn't you ever get sick of him writing about everything else? Oh, a puppy frolicking around on some warm grass? I don't give a shit about that puppy. Now, you put that puppy freezing his cute little toes off in some snow and I'm there!

And only Robert Frost could write over 300 pages of poetry just about snow.

Suck a fat non-snow rod, T.S. Idiot!

I'm telling you right now that there is no higher plane of writing than that of Frost's endless obsession with snow. Snow is where mankind began, in the Ice Age. Snow is where mankind will end, in another Ice Age. If this book could've been made out of snow, it would've been. And Robert Frost probably would've written an entire 'nother book just about this one being made of snow.

Why? Because snow inspires Robert Frost. It's his life force. He's like that claymation ice king in that one old Narnia-Christmas movie where he has to battle the fire king. Except Frost is tougher than death. Shit, he looked like he was on the verge of a grave since his early 30s.

This book includes the classics:
"Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening"
"Snow On A Winter's Day"
"Birds In The Snow"
"An Old Man And His Snow"
"Snow, Snow, Snow"

Didn't you ever read Frost's poems your sophomore year of high school and think, "Man, this guy was onto something. I wish I could love snow like he loves snow. But all I care about are football games and hand jobs."

Well, listen up, dickhead! Snow! It's here, in your hands!

Why, here's an excerpt from The Snowiest Snow I Ever...Snowed:

But the snow is dim, under the pale moon light,
which looks like snow, so snowy and white,
but spring will come, snow's ultimate curse,
and me, here in the snow, where my bones hurt.

Did you just fucking read that right now? His bones hurt. He almost died for this literature deal. Here's another excerpt, this time from Snowflakes On My Snowy Head:

There is snow on my head! Get it off!
There is snow in my bed! Get it out!
There is snow in my whiskers!
I am a cat!

Now ask yourself: did Robert Frost straight-up just own your snowless face on that one? Get some snow on you. And write about it. Because if there's anything that Robert Frost's death taught us over 40 years ago, it was that snow...fucking...rules.

Get some.
Snow.

Apathy

"Apathy"
by Jason Ornelas

ENTIRE BOOK:
So there I was, stuck in what could be the end of the world, and out of nowhere, some dude comes out of the pit of Hell. Or something. I don't know. Some horses came out. Like...skeleton horses and then there was some lashing out of a god, maybe? Then the Devil started screaming some stuff and I just kind of sat there and...I'm kind of over this book...

Provo

"Provo"
a play in three acts
by Bret Meisenbach

AN EXCERPT:
CAROLINE: These mountains are warmer than usual this year. At the cold crisp tip, I'm sure that the weight of the world doesn't feel so dire.

JACK: Probably. But there are always ways to feel warmer.

CAROLINE: Love?

JACK: Actually, I was speaking more of cigarettes and rum.

[Jack pulls out a pack of cigarettes and a bottle of spiced rum, showing them mockingly to Caroline]

CAROLINE: Nobody abuses either of those things in in this town.

JACK: Then let's not abuse them. Let's have them in moderation.

CAROLINE: I'm fine. You're welcome to your own heavy destruction.

JACK: No thanks. I was only curious to see us kill ourselves out of the same boredom.

[Jack throws the cigarettes and lets the bottle of rum roll down the hill]

CAROLINE: You're a strange guy, Jack.

JACK: And you're a strange creature, Caroline.

CAROLINE: A creature?

JACK: You are human, aren't you?

[Caroline stares at Jack for a long time before finally slapping his thigh]

CAROLINE: We can be born of the same boredom, can't we? What say you to creating?

JACK: I'll be as reckless as you are.

CAROLINE: Then let's show this town some fireworks.

This Went Rather Poorly (For Her)

"This Went Rather Poorly (For Her)"
by Angelina Jolie

AN EXCERPT:
Oscar Night.

I, the drop-dead-sexy Angelina Jolie am heading to the bathroom, where I am approached by a ranting and raving lunatic man. Oh wait. It's Jennifer Aniston. More like Jennifer Cantstand. Hmmmm...I should write that down and file it away in my sexy dungeon. Ugh. She's gonna yell at me about some inane bullshit she calls moral conviction. If I wasn't so sure she were asexual with her mirror, I bet she'd probably want to boink me. Jesus, who doesn't want to boink me these days? Damn, here's the crazy dude now. How did Braddie-Poo ever put his "character actor" into her gross "plot?"

Jennifer Aniston storms up to me and puts her finger in my face.

She yells, "I've been waiting five years to say this to you. You're a bitch. You ruined everything. You're such a skank-ho that I can't even believe they let you adopt children. I've got ten fingers that say you're the loosest goose in this town and thousands of women that agree with me. Team Aniston could kick Team Jolie's ass. Nobody loves you. Not even Brad. There was just a huge misunderstanding between us. He'll come back. One day. But for right now, I'm kinda-sorta holding onto John Mayer. He's a good guy. He's dumped me several times for vague reasons... but I still love the guy! He makes beautiful music! We make beautiful music! You don't give a shit about anyone else but yourself. All that good will bullshit is just so people think you're deep. But you're not! You're as shallow and bitchy as the tabloids say you are. God, you even smell like sin. You smell like you just broke up another marriage. How do you sleep at night, taking care of kids, but knowing you're a homewrecker? What kind of bitch-ass mother are you? You're a bitch-ass. God, I hate you. How do you even have friends? You're the worst thing ever. I kept my mouth shut for years, but now, I'm letting everyone know that you suck. God, you suck. I'm going to tell US WEEKLY all about this encounter and they'll agree that you're pregnant with the Devil's spawn. What do you have to say about that, Miss Angelina Bitch-Ass Jolie?"

I yawn obtusely. "I'm still banging your ex-husband every day," I say, with a shrug. "So...I win."

"Ugggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggh," Jennifer Aniston yells, shaking her head and fists.

And then I open the bathroom door slowly, where all the girls inside want take me on a vacation to Boink City, USA.

They Gave Me My Own Show

"They Gave Me My Own Show"
by Jimmy Fallon

BOOK SLEEVE:
Hi, I'm Jimmy Fallon, but you can call me Jimmy Fallon. Hahahahahaha. Oh man. I gotta save that one for my show. Oh yeah. My show. I have a show. I'll show you my show if you show me yours. Hahahahahahaha. Seriously though, I have a show. A talk show. Hahahaha. I don't even know why I laughed that time. Anyway, this show's going to be hilarious. I'm going to do wacky impressions. Hahahahaha. Just thinking about them makes me laugh. Hahahahaha. And it'll make you laugh. Hahahahaha. It's going to be so funny. Hahahahahaha. Seriously. Hahahahaha. You're going to split your side. Hahahahaha. Because one time...hahahahaha. Well, I'll tell you when I have my show. Hahahahaha. For right now, I have to...hahahahahaha. I have to write some....hahahaha. Some introductions...hahahaha. To the show...hahahaha. I don't know...hahahaha. You're going....hahahaha. To love it....hahahahaha. I...hahahaha. Want...hahahaha. To...hahahahaha. Be...hahahaha. The...hahahaha. Next...hahahaha. Jay Leno...hahahaha.

Yeah, I should totally host a talk show, because if there's anything I'm known for, it's not talking about myself too much and not laughing while other people are talking.

Look At Me! Look At Me!

"Look At Me! Look At Me!"
a picture book
by Lady Gaga

AN EXCERPT:

CHAPTER TWO: Me still luv fashion!


Me look like Amy Winehouse in dis picture. But she is British. I is Italian! She likes fish and I like pasta!!!! We are the same, but we are differeeeeeeeeeeeennnnttttt!!!! Me Lady Gaga! Me is from Yonkers! Dey call me "Le Bonkers from Yonkers!" Maybe I is French? But no! Me is Lady Gaga! With Italian blood! And maybe some other stuuffffffff like blackness, because of my booty. My Lady Gaga booty! Et es soooo roooooound! Et es like de moon! But it poops! Poops gold records dat is! Me Lady Gagaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!

Look at Lady Gaga above. She is da Lady Gaga. She sometimes kill you fo being so pretty. And sunglasses at night? She is interestiiing! One day when I was child, my mom said, "You can't go outside wearing pink underwear on the outside of a blue dress." And I said, "You is confoosed! You are listening to society's lies You no need to wear shoes on your feet, because then how will you climb treeeeeeeeeeeees!" And den she hit me! Wiff boomerang! Where did da boomerang come from? Oh no! Et es coming baaaaack! Protect Lady Gaga! She has da secret formula!
Me luv attentioooooooooooooooooooooon! The Lady Gaga demands it! All de people love me. Like Babar, de Elephant King! He ride into sunset wiff me humping his back. We are lovers! Like pro-basketball players, dunking on each ovver! We no listen to society. Me make dance music, because me like dance music. Haff you seen Babar dance? No wonder he is Elephant King!

Me seem so happy here. But I is not. I is so lonely. Like Babar, de Elephant King.

I Don't Look Like This Anymore

"I Don't Look Like This Anymore."
by Lindsay Lohan

BACK COVER:
Lindsay's back. Again. But now, she doesn't have all the trials and tribulations of "weight" or "baggage." She's a stone-cold fox. Or the deadweight of a dead one anyway. But remember when she had enough meat on her to be a meal? Remember your jealousy, ladies? Remember your wet dreams, gentleman? Well, now she looks like this, thinner than ever, naked and ready to party:

A Colorful Scheme

"A Colorful Scheme"
a novel
by Shawn Trondsen

AN EXCERPT:
"We're not going to shoot him, are we?" Michael said quickly.

Languins was taken aback. "No. No, of course we're not going to shoot him. Jesus. That's why we're on this roof. We just need to photograph him. We're bank robbers, not murderers, Mike. Do you see a gun up here?"

"Well, I have one."

Languins again was taken aback. "Mike, why the hell do you have a gun?"

"I didn't know what the plan was."

"We went over the plan at breakfast!"

"I wasn't really paying attention."

"You're telling me that we're about to rob this bank in a week's time, which is a serious, serious crime, and you're not paying attention to the plan?"

"My eggs were runny. I kept trying to flag down the waitress."

"You're a lofty idiot of a man sometimes, Mike. Even in grade school."

"You copied off of me in grade school!"

"Well, then I was the loftier idiot. Watch it. Here he comes."

I Seriously Love Kids And Everyone Is Being A Total Dick To Me

"I Seriously Love Kids And Everyone Is Being A Total Dick To Me"
by Nadya Suleman

BACK COVER:
Nadya Suleman didn't know where to turn. All she wanted was kids and now the world was basically being a total dick to her. She just wanted to be a mother. Is that so wrong? Why don't you go to your own mother and call her irresponsible?

Oh, you wouldn't? Hypocrite.

Ugh. Even Canada's media is getting involved. The Vancouver Sun is being the bitch of all bitches by bringing up the fact that Suleman totally ignored condoms, IUDs, birth control pills, vaginal ring, contraceptive sponge, diaphragm. rhythm method, cervical cap, tubal ligation, spermicide, hysterectomy, morning-after pill, depo-provera injections, vasectomy and coitus interruptus.

But all Suleman wanted was to be a mother. So what if she was already a mother? So what if she was already a mother six times over? She just wanted to be a mother. To 14 kids. While living with her parents. Without a job. Come on, isn't this how J.K. Rowling started off? Except on her own? And had just lost a job? With almost a dozen less children? Ok, then all Suleman has to do is write a internationally-acclaimed best-seller that makes her richer than the queen. God, lay off! Give her time!

She just wanted a big family. Oh, and sure people are thinking, "Hey, I wanted a pool of gravy with a diving board made out of turkey, but you need money for that!" Well, fuck off, that shit is stupid. She's raising kids. Like a hero. Remember those kids that helped saved the local community center by putting on a play? Remember those kids that worked little league games by your house even though they didn't have to? Or remember those kids that put up the flag at Iwo Jima? You're an asshole.

Yes, yes, yes, the average kid costs $13,000 in their first year and Suleman has that times 8. But you know, a certain Angelina Jolie has some kids...?

FROM CNN:
"That was always a dream of mine, to have a large family, a huge family, and I just longed for certain connections and attachments with another person that I really lacked, I believe, growing up," she said. Asked what was lacking, she cited a "feeling of self and identity ... I felt powerless. And that gave me a sense of predictability. Reflecting back on my childhood, I know it wasn't functional. It was pretty dysfunctional, and whose isn't?"

Guess who said that? Mother Teresa? Close! It was Nadya Suleman, dickwad. She just wants her kids to have a normal, functional childhood. So she had 14 of them. So they could all be friends. And she doesn't have a job. So she can stay home and love them. And her parents will probably help out too. And you know they're stoked on kids. They had at least one. So why wouldn't they love 14?

Oh, remember, bring your children for the softball tournament next Saturday. Oh...you don't have enough kids to form a team, you say? That's weird, because Nadya Suleman has enough kids to play with substitutes too. I guess you forfeit then and Suleman automatically wins! Wins at life! Who's the dick now?

Happy Valentine's Day

"Happy Valentine's Day
by Cupid

TAGLINE:
Really, just because this holiday is supposedly a "Hallmark holiday," you're going to ignore it? Why not be good to your man or woman every other day AND this day? Why choose to protest instead of love? You're dumb.

Assault!

"Assault!"
by Chris Brown

TAGLINE:
I've had songs called "Poppin" and "Take You Down" and "Damage" and "Throwed" and Jesus Christ, people, how did you not see it coming?

Wait...

"Wait..."
by Christian Bale

AN EXCERPT:
Everyone is says that i is a hero? That I stands up someone? Yeis, yeis, the director of photogwaphy was no good. No good! I is so great! Me promise you, world, that I am new Christian Bale. Faster. Stronger. Better. More Batmany. Ron Howard say I good guy. So does McG. I good man. I is un hero to the civilarios! I can has cheezburger?

Fuck

"Fuck"
by Christian Bale

AN EXCERPT:
Listen, man, everyone's getting on my fucking case about some fucking guy that I fucking yelled at. Well, fuck him. Come on, he's a fucking asshole. Fuck the entire family of that fuck. I'm sick of this fucking shit. Ugh. Fucking...I was in The Dark fucking Knight. You fucking owe me, world. Remember when I darkened my voice for fucking symbolism? And it was so fucking gnar that I sounded like I was getting over scarlet fever and a fucking whooping cough? I couldn't read until I was fucking 7. And even then, I'd just read fucking picture books. Oh fucking dammit, did I write that? Fucking...why can't I stop? One time, I fucked a tranny! Dammit! Another crazy fucking outburst for me, Christian Bale! Fuck all of this.

No, No, No...I'm Doing Great

"No, No, No...I'm Doing Great: a tailspin into insanity (tailspinsanity?)"
by MC Skatrat (the actor formerly known as Joaquin Phoenix

AN EXCERPT:
Oh man, I'm like an artist. Like, an artist's artist. I can do everything. Even act. As an artist. Or freestyle as an actor-turned-rapper-turned artist. I quit acting. I'm deep, man. Like an ocean. That's why my parents almost named me: Ocean. But they decided that it was too similar to my uncle Tundra and my aunt Rainforest. Children of God, playa. They once made me worship a tree branch, playa.

Oh yeah, I say "playa" now. Why? Because I'm no longer Joaquin Phoenix. That was my fascist name. Now, I'm MC Skatrat, the most fly on the wall. Sticky and sweet, slick and to the beat.

Look, right there, I rapped. And you doubted me? Psssch. I own the night.

Come on, I'm in the zone now. How many movies did I make where I acted braindead? And then they had me play Johnny Cash, who spoke like he was braindead. The Golden Globes wanted to high-five my weiner, they loved me as Cash so much. I could've banged the Golden Globes' mother if I wanted to. But I'm too into Mother Earth that I'd never do it. I love this planet more than people. Also, because I'm so mysterious and miserably charming as a bag full of misery that no one can get inside my head. It's too dark. Maybe you should turn on a light. Oh wait, you can't, because that would be electricity killing the planet. Asshole.

But anyway, fuck acting.

Now, I'm into music. And you're into me. You're into my music through the power of song. I'm so cool I'm retarded. Totally retarded. Just...so retarded.

I'm a humanitarian and I approve my message.

Folksinger

"Folksinger"
by Jake Kilroy

AN EXCERPT:
"There ain't a wind I can't carry, no sun I can't meet, no woman I can't please," the folksinger said, squinting at the sinking sun, a bright orange engulfing the valley.

"Sounds pretty arrogant," Henry remarked.

"I wasn't saying. I was quoting."

"Quoting who?"

"Don't know. Someone else. You know these fields will be turned into houses one day and those birds will have no songs."

"Yea, I know."

"And the world will lose another good artist for modern movement. One more gravesite for a beautiful work. Fine time for a last hurrah."

"Is that why you're drinking?"

"No, it's why I'm thinking, why I'm talking, why I'm wondering where all the women are that I once knew."

"Not here at sunset, that's for sure. You just got me."

"I'll take it."

The two watched the sky fall, sitting atop a creaky wooden fence. The birds sang as the sky went from orange to to red, then to purple, then to black. Then the crystal stars came out to shine in the moonlight. And the two just sat there with new beers and old words.

Uh Oh

"Uh Oh"
by Macy's

TAGLINE: Cutting 7,000 jobs, eh? Hard to know how to feel about a company that had cool things like homosexual mannequins but uncool things like private jails and interrogation rooms.

Everyone Totally Feels Sorry For Me, Right?

"Everyone Totally Feels Sorry For Me, Right?"
by Ashton Kutcher

AN EXCERPT:
And then you're not going to believe this, a construction crew was outside of my mansion. How awful is that? Look at me, I'm just like you..."normies."

To further prove that I was just like you guys, I pulled a Puff Daddy and ranted about how hard the standards of living are for the exceptionally wealthy. At 7 in the morning, I had to carry myself to my patio (which took just under an hour, because I had to stop at my ice rink for a quick skate) and started yelling into my video camera about my neighbor keeping me up.

Hypothetically...let's say I'm a 13-year-old girl. A girl bothered me at school today. I went on Twitter and whined about it the rest of the day. Now, let's say I'm dating a friend's dad. Now let's realize that what I did as a little girl isn't all that different as to what I, Ashton Kutcher, did as an adult. Also, even as a thirtysomething, let's say I just got my first period.

But I yelled into my camera for legal purposes, of course. Even though construction is legally allowed to start at 7 a.m. in Los Angeles, according to the law. Even though I've made a glorious amount of noise, everything from watching television really loud with my wife and throwing windows off of my balcony for no apparent reason.

I've made a career as an underwear model and then as an actor playing nothing but socially-inept, loud, obnoxious characters and then as the host and producer of my own prank show, so why shouldn't you feel sorry for me when I'm bothered? Are you telling me that I haven't earned my keep? Why don't you feel sorry for me? Feel more sorry for me.

So, instead of waking up and having my chef cook my eggs, having my shoe-putter-onner put on my shoes and my birds dressing me like Snow White, I had to take my Angry Slide instead of my Happy Slide to my Funhouse, which isn't so fun when someone's neighbor is hammering away. Also, my snowcones didn't taste as good today because my neighbor is mean.

I was also hoping that everyone would forget that the entire premise of my show Punk'd was bothering people. And now I'm bothered. Ironic, eh? Feel sorry for me. Irony hurts. And because there's a-people makin' a-racket outside of my million dollar home.

Remember when I made Justin Timberlake think he was losing his house?
Remember when I convinced Usher that his brother got arrested?
Remember when I made Demi Moore love me?

Ugh. It's so stupid that I'm getting punk'd...by life.

Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah.

We Are So Great, Aren't We?

"We Are So Great, Aren't We?"
by Kanye West & Brandon Flowers

AN EXCERPT:
BF: "I mean, how can you listen to Day & Age and not think I'm an embryo child of Bob Dylan, Bruce Springsteen, Paul Simon and James Taylor? I'm like the songwriter these days."

KW: "Too true, man. Same thing with 808s & Heartbreaks. I am so good that I almost seem, dare I say it?...bad. People can't handle the truth."

"I know. Sometimes, you're just so good that you can see the work of others. It comes to depress you."

"Oh, every time I listen to another album of anybody's, I fart, just to add something to the tracks to make it better. My farts are like clouds made up of laughter, hugs and seasoning salt."

"I'm pretty sure I could do Bruce Springsteen's "Born To Run" better than The Boss himself."

"I bet I could bring Tupac back from the dead if I just asked nicely."

"We are so great, aren't we?"

"Yeah, of course. God, I wish we could high-five so hard we could have a kid."

"But then we'd have to compete against him."

"Yeah, but we could just record each other's stuff and it'll seem like new music."

"That's an amazing idea. I could do 'Mr. Brightside' in a hip hop tempo easy and you could do 'Good Life' to a dance beat."

"Right. God, we're so great."

"So great."

"Like...super awesome mega great."

"Great times infinity."

"Yeah...except...are we really doing each other's tracks or our own?"

"Each other's, because we're so great."

"Oh, because I thought maybe we were doing our owns just a second ago, because we're so great."

"Well, because we're so great, I'm not sure who I am right now and which songs I'm doing."

"You're Kanye."

"I thought you were Kanye."

"Oh...well, I don't know...we sound so much alike when we talk about ourselves..."

"Yeah, I know...what are you wearing?"

"Some stupid white blazer with white slacks and a pink button up shirt."

"Damn. That could be either of us."

"Well, what are you wearing?"

"Some frilly number with sunglasses indoors."

"Damn. That could be either of us again."

"Well, who helped you get famous?"

"I don't know. Some guys."

"Yeah, some guys helped me get famous too...wow, this is hard."

"Well, I've got some feuds..."

"Yeah, me too..."

"Hmmm...what's your religion?"

"Money."

"Oh, mine too."

"Isn't one of us, like... Mormon and one of us Christian?"

"Yeah, but I like money more."

"Yeah, me too."

"You ever pet the television when you're on it?"

"Yeah."

"Hmmm...that doesn't narrow it down at all..."

"I think I tend to lose my temper in interviews...?"

"Yeah, so do I."

"Ah well, you just want to flip a coin?"

Harsh

"Harsh"
by Jessica Simpson

TAGLINE: Seriously, after we spent an entire year talking about change and then voted in a new president that advocates tolerance and progression, we're really going to ridicule and grill me for adding on a few pounds, nowhere near fat? F'real?