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?