Sam Diss

Worth a reported 100 billion dollars (admittedly, at the current exchange rate, 62 billion pounds sounds WAY LESS impressive and poetic), everyone’s favourite privacy encroaching autist Mark Zuckerberg can pretty much do as he pleases. Here is what I do with his money:

• Buy 66,889,632 orange traffic cones and create a hundred foot image of Tanning Mom (getting the joke in before it dies)
• Buy 12,550 Congolese children because in the future, we’ll all be measured by how many east African children we have and not the content of our character.
• One night with Lucy Liu (Chinese food is REALLY expensive (sidebar: is this racist?))
• Reanimating Marc Bolan specifically to record the soundtrack to Billy Elliot 2: Brisé or Die

Little do you know it, but interns run the world. That great coffee you’re drinking? Intern’d. That brilliant shoe-shiner in the hallway? He’s an intern. That cool Obama “Hope” stencil poster thing from a few years back? Yep. An intern won the election. The facts in this article? Checked - you got it - by an intern.

How else would three-hundred invoices be entered into a library? You don’t have time to do that, you’re too busy; these LinkedIn invitations won’t send themselves, you know.

Does management really expect me to enter my own expense form? How am I supposed to claim back every double-shot soy-latte with cinnamon-froth and gingerbread-syrup on expenses when I don’t even get the damned things, the damned intern does? I’m not made of receipts.

I can’t answer my own phone: what if I miss the end of the eBay auction for this silken replica Driver jacket Ryan Gosling wore as the Driver in the movie Drive signed by Ren Osugi (whom I later found out was in a different film called Drive)?

What am I supposed to do if there isn’t an intern to remove gum from my shoe or to drive my daughter to the emergency room or to help wheel me to the bathroom when my Omorashi fetish gets too much?

I really wish we could pay the interns, I really do. But, in this current economic climate, we just can’t. In fact, when I get back from Cannes, just before I fly back to St. Barts, I’m going to bring it up with the board.

The worst thing about her death (RIP) was that we never got an answer to the immortal question, “Just exactly where do lonely hearts go? Did they find their way home? Their parents must be worried sick because, seriously, hearts should be in a safe place they are really not made for such tomfoolery”.

Here are some possible answers:

• Ikea, cutlery section (because, DUH, “lonely”)
• Outside an abandoned Blockbusters
• Outside an ex-girlfriend’s flat, trying to send her bad vibes directly but her new boyfriend installed double-glazing
• Subway sandwiches (“Give me it on Hearty Italian, please. I need to feel SOMETHING”)
• The barber shop (what? Maybe they just had shit to do, they’ve been busy, areas with bad phone reception and they wanted to get their haircut. God, what is this? The Spanish Inquisition now?)

But yeah RIP again. Patrick Bateman and I (eee-eyyyeeeeee) will always love you. 

jonaspolsky:

by Jonas Polsky

For the most part, my long-winded dissertations on comedy go unchallenged, but that changed this week when from my ivory tower I heard the faint cries of dissent. I was disgusted by a New York Times article on joke writing (http://goo.gl/n3SPw) that promoted subjecting audiences to half-finished material.

The subject of that article, comedian Myq Kaplan, contacted me to discuss my accusations of ”Audience Torture” (http://goo.gl/meSnv). Here is our lengthy conversation, exactly as it occurred.

(This conversation is being recorded for quality assurance purposes.)

Jonas: Mr. Kaplan, you have the floor.

Myq: Jonas, thanks for having me.

Before we get started, or I suppose this could actually be us starting if you like, may I ask you if you are a stand-up comic and if so, how long have you been doing it for and where? Or if not, can you tell me the extent of your experience with stand-up?

Jonas: Yes, I am a comic, I’ve been performing stand up for around eleven years. About three years ago I changed my focus to comedy writing, and although I perform stand up from time to time, I would classify myself as a comedy writer.

Read More

Just got to work, noticed a tea stain on my shirt from the cuppa I picked up on the way. Pretty sure that explanation would suffice, but just to make sure, here are some back-ups:

• Bumping rails at lunch-time, passed out on the floor, floor must’ve had tea on it. 
• Some vacant hard-body, so lost in my eyes, spilled her tea on me as we bumped into each-other on the platform. 
• I was reading something I wrote earlier, a little ditty, and laughed so heartily that I spat tea all up myself. 
• My teat is lactating milky Rosie Lea. 

Inspired by the hilarious ”Important New Emoticons” by Mira Ptacin and Seth Fried over at McSweeney’s, here are my own VERY IMPORTANT CELEB EMOTICONS. 

P.-)

The Long John Silver emoticon

C:]> 

The Happy Lucifer Wearing a Beanie emoticon

J:-)

The Alex Turner of Arctic Monkeys circa 2011 emoticon

Q:o)

The Annoying Conceptual Artist Who Wore Beret and Whom Everyone Knew of For, Like, Three Months emoticon

:o)—P

The Michael Fassbender in “Shame” With His Penis Out emoticon

<X (

The William Shakespeare Died on His Birthday, Let Us Never Forget emoticon

:-§

The Ron Swanson emoticon

:-I

The Mario Balotelli Goal Celebration emoticon

The last thing I’ll say about Kony 2012: great cause, questionable integrity/priorities of the charitable organisation. Find another way to donate, raise money; don’t just blindly give Invisible Children all of your hard-earned JSA. 

It happens (unless you’re my employer reading this). Here are some examples which you are free to “borrow”:

• Can’t come in because Joseph Kony is outside and you heard he’s angry. 
• Can’t come in because you have polio and… what do you mean they’ve got a cure for that now? 
• Can’t come in because there’s a CSI: Miami marathon on and what if someone is found dead in the office, covered in semen? Who will solve the case? 
• Can’t come in because this coke you was doing (I mean, “DRINKING”) has given you the wicked shits. 

Such a shame, he had a great head of hair. 

tyleroakley:

A glimpse into my future.

Life is tough in the M(LS).