People People

You’ve heard it before, “I’m a people person…I just like people.”  Some folks admit this during a job interview as if it were some sort of skill.

Interviewee:  “Yea, I went to Oxford and majored in People Studies.  You know, I saw a lot of them growing up and I thought, ‘That’s what I want to do.  Figure out what it’s like to be a person.’   I used to catch young ones and stick them into a refrigerator box.  You know, we’ve all done it.  I tried to take care of them but my father eventually made me let them go free.  I’m a people person…you know…I just like people.”

Potential Employer:  “Well, in Women’s Studies you’re major would be more rounded.”

There are benefits to being a “People Person” (henceforth referred to as a PeePer).  Each personal contact for a PeePer is a potential resource.  If you need a deal on a used car, a PeePer knows someone who can get you a deal.  Peepers are never without a date book thick with parties and coming events.  Peepers are never unemployed long because one of their friends knows someone who is hiring. 

I would not be considered a PeePer.  In fact, I usually couldn’t care less about you.  I’ve been attending my current church for five years and I’ve just learned half the names.  When people begin conversations with, “I…” a dull usually settles over my face.

Test for Being a People Person or “PeePer.”

1-  Do you bump into folks you know in restaurants or stores?
10 pts.  Often    
7 pts.  Sometimes  
4 pts.  Rarely  
1 pt.  I know the waiter’s name

2-   When you need to move there are ___________ people you can ask.
 10 pts.  Five or More   
7 pts.  Three or Four  
4 pts.  Two or Less 
1 pt.  Homeless

3- How many neighbors are you on “wave hi” basis with?
10 pts.  Five or More   
7 pts.  Three or Four  
4 pts. One or Two
1 pt.   My Neighbors Carry Disease

4- How many people attended your wedding (if single, guesstimate)?
10 pts.  Over 200
7 pts.  Between 100 – 200  
4 pts. Less than 100
1 pt. We Got Everyone in the Wedding Album!

5- When was the last time you made a new friend?
10 pts.  Last Week   
7 pts.  Within the Last Month  
4 pts. Within the Last Year
1 pt.   Do Online Friends Count?

6- How often do you eat with your coworkers?
10 pts. Four or  Five Days a Week 
7 pts.  Two or Three Days a Week
4 pts. Once a Week
1 pt.   I read blogs during lunch

7-  How many Degrees are you from Kevin Bacon?
 10 pts.  I can get to Him Several Different Ways
 7 pts. Within Seven
 4 pts.  “How the Heck should I know?!”
 1 pt. “I know someone with red hair.”

8- How many folks from High School do you keep up with?
 10 pts. Five or More
 7 pts. Three or Four
 4 pts.  One or Two
 1 pt. “I’ve still got my yearbook…someplace.”

9- How many Super Bowl Parties do you have the option of attending?
 10 pts.  Four or More
 7 pts. Two or Three
 4 pts.  “One, but that’s ok.”
 1 pt. “By Myself I don’t have to Share the Chips.”

10-  Be Honest, what is Your Attitude about the People Around You?
 10 pts.  Everyone has a Story!
 7 pts.    Meeting New People is Generally Pleasant.
 4 pts.  I’m Suspicious of Strangers
 1 pt. Don’t They Have Family They Can Bother?

Peeper Scale  

70 to 100 – “Yo, I’m definitely a PeePer!”

40 to 69   –  “I’m generally nice to just the good looking folks.”

 10 to 39   –  “If everyone was just like me that would be cool.”

0 to 10      –  “I invented the Pet Rock.”


Love has serious side effects.  That’s what they don’t tell you.  There are aches, pains, and obsessive thoughts that overcome you when a strong infatuation never comes to bloom.  All of us have stored enormous amounts of dreams in another hoping they are making a similar investment.  Juvenile love, of course, almost always fails and any strong feelings you have stored up come crashing on top of your head.  When this happens expect tears, ridiculous overtures, and angst ridden love letters.

When Melissa taught high school, she would sometimes run into these letters.  After all, who could concentrate on biology when your one true love is thinking about going to prom with someone else?  For some reason she kept one and I got a hold of it.


Remember, this is an ACTUAL Letter.  We don’t know all the details (thankfully) but they aren’t necessary.  Just let the writer’s powerful torment overtake you.  My additions are in parenthesis otherwise it’s all Stephen. 

My Dearest Lori, 

For two years I have chased after you (even when you were chasing Eugene).  Unfortunately nothing became of it, but as I sit here waiting to leave for summer vacation and with college on the horizon I realized how much you really mean to me.  I have loved you for a long time (like, since puberty).  All the girls I dated never worked (made out with me), and now I can say I know why (acne).  In the back of my mind I was trying to make myself believe that I didn’t need you, which almost worked.  I know now that I do need you badly.  Too little, too late, huh?

Remember that wherever you end up you’ll always have me to turn to (I really, really, really like you!) for you and I it is too late I know that (not really but I want you to call me up and so this is the tactic I’m trying).  I couldn’t leave without saying this one way or another.

You know how you always said nothing seemed to bother me most of the time and how I always made you smile?  (If you didn’t say that you should have.)  Well, the only reason I acted that way was because I didn’t want you to know how scared and childlike I really was (you like men in diapers…I mean sensitive men right?).

You did something to me that I hate you for, you reminded me that I was weak about several things (spiders…cottage cheese…acne cream).  I can’t leave without asking the question that’s been on my mind for months so here goes…Could you have ever married a guy like me?  (Remember, I really, really like you.  Look, I can’t say it any stronger!)  I wanted so much to spend the rest of my life with you.  I will always love you (Call me now!).

When it gets dark in your world don’t be frightened.  Welcome the darkness, embrace it, for in the darkness is where I’ll be (I don’t even know what I’m talking about any more), watching, loving, and protecting you (but, you know, not in the stalker type of way).  Don’t fear the night, nor what lives therein for I’m there to protect you and give you light (unless you file a restraining order).

Love Stephen  That’s with a PH not a V you stupid she-devil!  (Ok, Matt added that last part.)

A Good Use for a Forked Tongue

Dateline:  Last Tuesday give or take a few days. 

I’m reading a tabloid in the checkout isle.  I’m wearing a shirt and shoes but not pants!  Take that corporate America!  I’ve been asked to leave and refused.  The store personnel have gone to fetch security so I’ve got a second to read the tabloids. 

The only thing interrupting my reading are several spoiled toddlers screaming about the toy they didn’t get.  Their parents are just standing beside the cart with that “the sex wasn’t even that good” look on their face. 

Well, since their parents aren’t going to punish them I’ll have to.  I can’t beat or fine them so that means giving them a psychological whooping.  I turn to the nearest and say, “You’re the best your parents could afford.  You should act better.”

Security is coming around the corner so I pull out an exclusive recent interview with Confucius (Did you know he’s been living at his mother’s house the whole time?  Man, platitudes don’t pay like they used to.) and fold it over my naked bottom.  They threw me out anyway but the tabloid is mine!

Outside I finished the article.  I was smitten by the candor and eloquence of this ancient master thinker.  Especially where he says, “Yea, this honesty with yourself and others…it’s all a load.  Try this on for size, Confucius says…whatever he pleases, sucka.” 

The man is a genius and he’s right to boot!  Without even trying I thought of 10  situations where an outright lie is the best policy.

1) You’re visiting some friends who’ve just had a baby.  The newborn looks too much like a hairless mole for your tastes.  Heck, looking at the kid’s older siblings there won’t be too much improvement.    So you say, “Awww, isn’t he adorable.”

2) Your boss approaches you in the office hall and hands you a copy of the business’s Internet policy.  It includes no girly sites, hate sites (whatever those are), sports sites (but a quick peek just to check the scores won’t hurt), gaming sites (get to level 600 on your own time), and (unacceptable!!).  So you say, “Yes sir, I use it for business purposes only.”

3) When at a guest’s house, don’t use the toilet in any meaningful way.  But if you do and the toilet gets plugged, you say, “It was plugged when I got here.”

4) Men Only:  Shoot, you’ve let your eyes tarry too long on the swimsuit magazines and your wife saw you.  Try shrugging and saying, “You know honey, I’m really not into supermodels.  They’re much too skinny.”

5) Women Only:  Your husband has come in from mowing the lawn and he takes off his shirt.  He whistles for your attention and “flexes.”  Nod vigorously and say, “Hmmm, that hair on your back and the way your waist totes that thirty pounds of extra value meals…yea.”

6) Well, you’ve passed gas in a public place.  Nice one.  It’s perfectly acceptable to lie and say, “Uh, it was him.”

7) Someone you work with has a new tattoo, piercing (non-ear), brand, or off colored hair scheme.  They want your opinion and you’d rather not give it.  Society allows you to opt out by saying, “Wow, that’s really neat!”

8) The boy or girl that wants to date you has called again and asks if you’re interested.  Telling him or her that you’re not interested seems harsh to you.  No one will fault you if you reply, “I’m sorry, you have the wrong number.”

9) “The speed limit is WHAT?  Officer, you can’t be serious.  I had no idea.”

10)   The old lady next door has brought you a steaming dish of fresh bricks…I mean brownies.  They’re abrasive enough to get the scum off your bathtub or move 90% of your gum line.  “Thanks, one things for sure, whenever I have kids they’ll love these!”

Cupid Correction

A fat little angel soared over south Memphis looking for his targets.  His wings were to small for physics but that didn’t matter the importance of his mission is what kept him going.  He had his quiver full of crimson arrows and a tiny gold bow that curled at either end.  The ridiculously thin white ribbon he wore as a loincloth kept slipping and needed constant adjustment.  The wind caught his halo and tipped it sideways.  That wouldn’t stay straight either.

“What kind of dumb uniform is this?!  I mean the halo helps me see through bad weather but I don’t see why we can’t wear an oxford button-up and khakis!”

Frank, the angel’s dispatcher, spoke into the angel’s Bluetooth.  “Shut it Bob.  Remember F-A-R-T.   What’s it mean?”

“I means Cupid Command needs to get out more.”

“Bob?  You know this.  C’mon, just do it.”

The angel rolled his eyes.  “Focus And Reach Target” you know, I used to do this before we came up with this insulting acronym.  I’ll tell ya Frank, if guardian angels got any vacation time, I’d me there in a wing flap.”

“Boooooob, you’re not FARTing!”

“Alright!  I’m FARTing ok!?”  Bob rounded a cumulous cloud and slowed to approach speed.  The old Central Church was coming into view.
Frank continued.  “You’re coming up and your target.  It’s Crichton College’s new student registration line near the financial aid office.  As you could have guessed, the college is inside the church.  Now target one is Melissa Gregory.  She has sharp features, flaxen hair, and that streak of newfound confidence shy girls get when…well…when they quit being shy.  She’s short, cute, and curvy.  Be sure to use the slow release dose arrows.  She’s on the prowl.”
Bob found the gradual release arrow and notched it.  “And the male target?”

“He’s in line just in front of Melissa.  He has a uni-brow, large calves that look like cantaloupes, and no butt.  I can’t stress this enough.  He has no butt.  If your targeting anyone with the slightest amount of posterior…PULL UP!”

The angel’s path had taken him past the line into the church’s basement.  Bob corrected and popped into line directly behind Melissa.

“Ok, Frank I’m here.  What do I hit the male with…wait, you’re right this guy has calves, thighs, and no butt.  How does he even walk?”

“Bob, your going to use a correction dose on this guy.  He’s looking for long legs, blonde hair, and too much makeup.  Right now he’ll worry about the personality latter.  Not a good combination but we’ve see it before right?”

The angel patted is bare, round belly.  “Ha, we sure have!  Ok, I’m notching both arrows.  One delayed release and the other a correctional shot.” 

Bob pulled his bowstring back and prepared to release.  At that moment, Matt dropped his registration folder and both Matt and Melissa bent over to pick it up.  The arrows zipped by their intended targets, were caught in winds of change, and blown back toward the couple.

Matt was struck with the delayed release deadening him to the sight of his life’s love and Melissa was hit with a correctional dose of love serum.  For the moment, her preference was still the handsome, quiet boy in front of her but would gradually change to scrawny, badly charismatic boys. 

“Bob?  Status report, please.”

“Ok, I got the girl in the heart but with the wrong arrow.  The boy I wound up hitting in the pancreas.  He’ll probably wind up in his dorm room playing video games for two years instead of dating at all.  Do I get another chance?”

It took a second for Frank to respond.  When he did, his voice was deadpan.  “You don’t know the first thing about FARTing do you?”  

Collection Compulsion

I’m playing a rough game of pick up basketball in my high school’s gym.  Everyone else has basketball shoes but I don’t play very often so I don’t own a pair of basketball shoes.  Instead, I’m going side to side in my expensive pair of Nike Air Max 180s.  As I commit my fourteenth foul, I hear a short tearing sound coming from my right foot.  Crying out in pain, I fall to my rear cupping my shoe with both hands. 

“Matt!  What’s wrong!  Have you twisted your ankle?”

“Waaaa!”  I’m rocking back and forth running my fingers over the rip.  “I’ve torn my precious shoe!  An ankle will heal but not my all synthetic upper!  Waaaaa!”

“Get off the court moron!”

This horrendous scene occurred in either 1991 or 1992.  I still haven’t thrown those shoes away.  My grandmother took them and found white thread that would match the shoes’ color.  The patch looks a bit overdone (I think she used half a spool.) but her intent was that they not tear again.  Indeed they won’t because I’ll never wear them again!

I made a decision that these shoes were too expensive and too important to me to completely ruin them.  From that moment on every overpriced pair of Nike shoes I bought has been worn to the brink of wearing out before being washed, stuffed, and lovingly set aside (boxes as well). 

Why?  Well, if what I’ve already told you didn’t make sense then look at this peculiarity as a collection.  There’s a small room in my home where I store what I’ve come to call the “Archive.”  At one time, I would give first time guests a quick peek at some of my old shoes, but the response I received wasn’t very gratifying.  The tours have ceased (to my wife’s delight) and now only I spend quality time with my old shoes…reliving memories…enjoying each other’s presence.


I mourn over only one pair.  It was Nike’s FIRST Air Max called, surprisingly, Air Max Lights.  (Please note: their value on the used shoe market today would have pushed fifteen dollars!  And they said used shoes would never appreciate!)  They were white accented with rust red and a dark off purple.  Remember, these colors were beautiful in the early nineties!

This pair of shoes was tormented by a duo I can only quantify as Tweedle-Dee (my cousin Dustin) and Tweedle-Dumb (my brother Nate). 

Dustin began the festivities by loading up the insoles with onion powder.  A fiendish tactic that sent the stench causing bacteria in my shoe into quantum overdrive.  The Max Lights became so bad Mama Teply banished them to, “Leave outside the front door!” status. 

Only under the weight of my tears did Dustin finally relent and offer up his terrible secret.  The Max Lights were washed but the onion smell was stubborn.  The shoes were tainted and would never be the same.

As terrible as Dustin’s offence was, Nate’s deed was much worse.  It was my turn at the video game council and Nate was examining my cherished shoes with one hand and he had a compass (?!?!?!) in the other.

“Hey Maaaatt, look out!  I might pop your shoes!”  The taunt was designed to distract me and sped the end of my turn with the game.  My brother continued to threaten my shoes until…a brief pfffft and a stupefied expression overtook my brother’s face. 

“Oops, you can have another turn.”

I walked around for another month with a short whistle sound to every other step.  Finally, my grandmother sent them back to Nike and the company graciously replaced them with a second generation Air Max.  The first generations were gone and my shoes could not be replaced.

What will happen to all of my running shoes when I’m gone?  What is the Archive’s final place in history?  I can only assume my descendant’s will open a museum of some sort.  What else could they do with them?

The Question Box

From – The Desk Of ChiefDodo
To – Any Employee That’s Still Listening.

Imitative thinking is the backbone of everything we do here at  We’re always researching the very latest in blog technology and incorporating it faster than you can type, “C-u-t and P-a-s-t-e.” 

Spell checked content?  We were four hundred thirty first!  Absorption of royalty free clip-art?  We’re still counting but we’re somewhere in the six hundreds! 

In the word’s of our mortal founder, “Imitation may be the sincerest form of flattery – it’s also our only chance at survival.”

To further our company’s near cutting edge innovations, I mounted a Question Box right next to our Suggestion Box.  Some of you have noted the QB’s striking similarities to an old birdhouse.  This is coincidental and any bad smells are a natural byproduct of the speckled black and white paint I used.

The following are questions offered by your fellow employees and answered by your boss.  We only had two this month.

Question #1- “Dear Boss, I was in the toy department with my three year old son yesterday and I saw a battery operated, toy leaf blower.  When I pushed the test button, it made an annoying noise and some colored plastic beads spun.  It didn’t actually blow of course but it did suck.  Why would people buy their kids such a toy and why would a parent purchase one?”

Response from Chief Dodo:  I understand your confusion.  Batteries to replace, obnoxious noise, and a keen lack of imagination are all reasons to scratch your head.  I can just see a proud father thinking to himself, “Son, maybe the chemistry set or building blocks are a little too advanced for you.   Here, try this toy leaf blower.  Careful!  You point the other end at the ground!”

But hey, if they sell then the toy company is doing better than we are…am I right?

Question #2 –  “Dear Chief Dodo, what is the difference between a piece of chocolate cake and a chocolate muffin?  I’m also struggling with the difference between French fries and hash browns other than the cosmetic.  Can you help?”

Response from Chief Dodo:  Wooaa, hold on!  Two-fers can be a little tricky! 

Here’s the difference between a muffin and cake of roughly similar tastes…cooking muffins in single sized portions helps isolate and shrink carboteins.  As you know, carboteins are the primary hormones that your body uses to activate the guilt gland.  The common cylinder shape of the muffin also helps breakdown these dangerous hormones.  By deactivating the guilt gland you lower calorie viscosity and that is a good thing.  I think so anyway.  Heck, they taste better than a bowl of bran flakes.

And I forgot your other question.  Oh well.
       Sincerely, your boss

       Chief Dodo  

Don’t Regret What You Deserve

The scene: A psychiatrist’s office.  Matt Teply is reclining on a plush leather sofa.  His eyes wander the textured ceiling.  Amidst the specks of ceiling paint he looks for shapes and faces.  So far, he’s found three Virgin Marys and a Tyrannosaurs Rex. 

A tall bald man with wire-rimmed glasses sits in a swivel chair taking notes on a legal pad.  There’s a bowl of mixed nuts on a small end table.  He appears to like nuts.

Shrink: Ok, let’s get started. (bumps up glasses with index finger)  You’re here because you’ve lost patience with mankind.  You explode into episodes of quiet mental torment whenever you hear certain phrases used.  Hmmmm, quiet explosions, eh?  This is fascinating.  Tell me, what makes you think anyone cares what you think?  Was it your mother?  (rubs chin)   

Matt:  I kinda thought saying they were quiet explosions gave it a sleeping intensity…you know what I mean?

Shrink:  No.  (snaps his suspenders with his thumb)  Ok, this may sound a bit radical but why don’t you go ahead and tell me about it.

Matt: (nods vigorously) Sure.  People keep using phrases that absolutely drive me insane! 

Shrink:  Can you give me an example?

Matt:  When someone begins a sentence with, “I deserve…” it really doesn’t matter what comes next I’m probably not going to like it.  (lifts his hands toward the ceiling)  I mean, what do we really deserve anyway?  Is there a chart out there that shows which experiences or accomplishments result in you deserving this or that?

Shrink:  (taps his gold plated pen against his memo pad and honestly believes he deserved platinum.)  Matt, I suppose it’s a matter of personal estimation.  It’s like rewarding yourself for a job well done.

Matt:  Really?  Should we allow folks to make judgments on their own work?  Don’t you see a conflict of interest here?  I mean Lil’Bling decides he deserves a two-week vacation because his rap album sold thirty-four million copies.  How did he get that number?  Did he not work hard enough for three weeks?  

Shrink:  What are you some sort of hater?

Matt:  (flashing gang signs) Dude, I’m on the down low.  But when you say, deserve something, your surgically removing any link to an important trait, gratitude.  In other words, I deserve this so why should I be grateful to have it?  (begins showing signs of anger)  After all, I DESERVE THIS!

Shrink:  All right, let’s just calm down.  (looks at the clock and winces – there’s still a lot of time left)  So, what do people deserve?

Matt:  How should I know?!  Considering the way many people in the world are forced to live you’d think everything we enjoy would be flavored with a pinch of gratitude, anything else just comes across as arrogant.

Shrink:  Ok, this is something that is out of your control.  What is in your control, especially after help from my prescription pad, is your anti-social, compulsively idealistic, psycho-sclerosis.  (takes a walnut and cracks it open)  Is there anything else that bothers you so?

Matt: (heavy sigh) Yes, I despise it when someone says, “I have no regrets” at the conclusion of something that obviously didn’t work out right.  C’mon!  Nobody passes a test and walks away saying, “I did my best.  No regrets.”  If everything had worked out perfectly, someone would never add, “No regrets.”  I mean, am I wrong here? 

If you messed up, then you should have regrets!!  (fists are clenched)  Small ones or big ones take your pick but I know they’re there!! 

Shrink:  Hmmm, this is a problem.  (admires the grapevine he’s doodling across the top of his paper)   You know there’s a forum for pointless harangues that my suit you perfectly.   Have you ever considered blogging?

Pokorny on Meatloaf


Dear Doctor Pokorny,

My husband and I are going through a bit of a rough patch.  I have a hard time getting him to come home from work in time for supper.  We hardly ever talk anymore and when we do it seems to be on subjects that require no thought or commentary.  He never tells me what he’s thinking anymore!  I feel like we’re going apart.  We’ve had eleven good years and I’m hoping for many more.  Sometimes I cry myself to sleep with him snoring right beside me.

I’m cooking a meatloaf tonight (one of his favorites) and I need it to be good.  Can you help?

Sincerely, Mrs. Loser in Love and Loaf

Dear Loser,

I was in a restaurant recently for lunch and I ordered meatloaf.  My portion came out perfectly…the slice was geometrically perfect with ninety-degree corners so exact you cold use it as a brick.  The sauce was smooth on the meat as well as on the palette.  When I cut into it with my fork and the texture was even throughout just like…a can of Fancy Feast Cat Food! 

I studied the middle of that restaurant’s meatloaf looking for some difference between it and the Wild Boar flavor of my cat’s favorite food.  I failed!

By the patron saint of meat (Saint Butch or Cleaver; I can’t remember which), I implore that all meatloaves should be a chaotic medley of thick onions, beef that’s been more massaged than ground, palette jolting peppers, sandpaper coarse crackers, and cheese.  I decree that they should bend forks under their weight!  Good meatloaf should rampage through one’s digestive system like a run-a-way Mack truck with servings of tofu and humus lying dead on the sides of your intestines!

If you think about it, meatloaf is really the perfect food.  Just look at the recipe.

1) Six pounds of high fat ground beef  (Meat food group…check!)

2) Three sleeves of whole wheat (optional) seasoned crackers.  Use oats if you want to add hair to your chest.  (Grains!)

3) One whole red onion & one whole green pepper…and ketchup, lots and lots of ketchup  (Vegetables!)

4) One and a half pounds of cheese.  (I like cheese.  Don’t you?)

5)   A dozen eggs. (Vitamins?  Who knows, just add them)

Mix and bake until golden brown.  Serve.

If you need any additional advice, just let me know.
      Doctor Pokorny

The Name of Nonsense

Reader Advisement – All of the following names are actual names.  No stunt names were used for this post.

I’m sitting in the aquatics office at the recreation center filling out my time sheet for the week.  College age kids surround me yapping about the important activities on their social slate.  I’m eavesdropping as I fill out my timesheet.  I guess I’m a little jealous of the flexibility they still enjoy.

Megan is speaking to Forrest.  “So Trebor said she’d come Saturday but only if one of her boyfriends isn’t too hungover.  Anyway, it’s a fifty/fifty shot then.”

Forrest’s expression doesn’t change.  “The Saturday after student loan checks come in?  Don’t bet on it.  The chances are a little closer to, uh, seventy/forty.”

I raised my head.  Slang may have far outpaced me but I thought we still used female pronouns with females.  “Are you guys talking about a girl or guy here?  Trebor is a man right?”

“No Mr.T it’s a girl.  Her name is Trebor Atkins.  She is a member of our sorority.”

I spoke slower.  “Trebor is a girl.”

“Yes, Mr.T.”  Megan rolls her eyes.  “Now if you’ll excuse me, I haven’t texted anyone in the last ten minutes and I think my thumbs are going through withdrawal.”

This got me thinking…

Why do many people insist on creating their own names?   Don’t we have plenty of good ones to chose from?  Giving your child a far out name to make them unique is a little like giving them a third eye to accomplish the same purpose.  Their name makes them unique in the same way freak show exhibits are unique. 

Listen to this…Kids will make themselves unique on their own! 

This doesn’t stop new parents from acting a little like Dr. Frankenstein with a table full of dead syllables and prefixes.  The worst example I’ve ever come across was a girl named Ja-a.  Confused?  It’s pronounced Ja-dash-a.  You know, Jadasha only spelled Ja-a.  GOOD LUCK KID! 

Let’s hope her middle name isn’t Dumb*.
Hey, what do you think of the following?  “La-David” for when David is just too normal.  “Tyquasia” which is Swahili for “typhoon-hitting-Asia.”  The only thing I know for sure about the next name is that you won’t find it on any gift store coffee mug.  Ladies and gentleman let me introduce you to…”Walshaude”  (I think I just broke spell check.)

Here’s a situation that I may never get over.  There is a group of six children that come to the pool often.  All have the same mother but Father’s Day requires them to go over their monthly minutes.  This means they almost all have different last names.  To help bind her genetically diverse family together, this mother gave all of her children’s names the same prefix!  Holy cow that’s genius!

Here we go…Quad-Shawn, Quad-Shay, Quad-Lawrence, Quad-Rick, Quad-Tavious, and Quad-Esha.  To be honest, I have no idea whether the dashes are in there or not.  Maybe we should ask Ja-a?

Fine, here’s one more story.  Sometime ago Brother Teply worked at a Wendy’s.  One of his coworkers was a girl named Tyrani.  Don’t work too hard.  It’s pronounced tyranny.

My brother addresses his coworker.  “So, why did your parents name you after a repressive form of government?  Do you have a brother named Despotism?”

She gives Brother Teply a confused look.  “What are you talking about?  My mother came up with my name.”

Need I say more?

The Reality of Programming

Hello!  If you’re reading this, let me be the first to congratulate you…you’re literate!  Now that you can read it’s time to find a job that pays well and that is in serious need of individuals with your skill set.  How about TV Executive?!

TV Executives play an important role in today’s fast paced, sedimentary society.  You may believe that with the advent of the Internet, video games, DVDs, and near explosion of specialty channels that the influence of today’s average TV Executive is nearly zero and you’d be right!  But if you can keep even one small child from going outside it’s all worth it. 

Of course, there are challenges.  With advertising budgets becoming increasingly splintered, innovative spending becomes a must.  Assisting the budding TV Executive is the primary role of this tutorial and to that end we have compiled a list of “Touchable” spending and “Untouchable” spending.

· Actor’s Salaries
· Writer’s Salaries
· Program Development
· Your Floozy Secretary
· Studio Fees

· Executive Compensation
· Executive Bonuses
· Executive Clothing Allowances
· Executive Grooming

Due to less available monies, TV programming has necessarily devolved into the pinnacle of sensationalistic programming…the Reality Show!

All Reality Shows are taped in an alternate dimension known to laypeople as Purgatory (pronounced prrrrr-gat-ore-E).  This dimension is a place where social norms and the common rules for behavior do not exist.  Remember, the worse your cast behaves the better! 

You may wonder how a program that ignores the dictates of functioning civilization can be called a “Reality Show.”  It’s called a Reality Show because “Embarrassing Public Displays” and “Cheap and Ugly Programming” didn’t test well.

Not all Reality Shows have succeeded.  To assist you in gauging the probable success of a planned Reality Show, we have constructed a Success Quotient.  This value indicates, using proven data, whether or not a Reality Show will be a hit.  The higher the total value the better likelihood the Emmy’s will ignore you but actual views will not.
1- Categories of Reality Show contestants –
· Points per normal human being (0 pts.)
· Points per crazy human being (2 pts.)
· Points per floozy woman (3 pts.)
· Points per F list celebrity (4 pts.)
· Points per celebrity spawn (4.5 pts.)
· Points per crazy celebrity spawn (6 pts.)
· Points per chimp with Turret’s Syndrome (9 pts.)

2- Levels of Competition –
· Winner gets network stock (0 pts.)
· Winner gets a new pony (20 pts)
· Winner gets 15 seconds of fame (40 pts.)
· Winner gets 3 tabloid covers (60 pts.)

3-   Extras –
· Allow each contestant / entry the opportunity to vent (10 pts.)
· Video “Secret plans” and “Alliances” for broadcast (15 pts.)
· Charismatic host with bad hair or a bad attitude (20 pts.)
· No Ugly people (10 pts.)
· Each episode qualifies as “SHOCKING” or “MEMORABLE”  (Note: Requirements for memorable or shocking do not exist.) (15 pts.)

Success Quotient Scale –  0 to 10 pts. = Cancelled

    11 to 15 pts. = Ratings Basement

    16 to Infinity = Runaway Hit

So there you go!  There are only other two things to keep in mind.  One, please make sure your cast is very diverse because that’s just the way we do things now a days.  Also, NO IDEA IS TOO STUPID TO MAKE A SHOW!