Monthly Archives: December 2011


I wanted to surprise people with my best of list so I decided to applaud stuff that is not real. At least, I assume this stuff is not real. Anything is possible, because the internet.


The Bacon Bowl Hat.

It’s just like the old school beer hat but with bacon. You put this bowl hat on your head, then put a bunch of chopped up bacon bits in the bowl, then suck them through the attached straw until your heart hurts. Yes, it’s dangerous to suck chunks of bacon through straws, but really you should only wear The Bacon Bowl Hat at parties. And at any party where The Bacon Bowl Hat is welcome there will be at least one jackass who thinks he knows the Heimlich Maneuver.


Errybody Be Tired (From F*ckin’)

It’s a wonder it took someone this long to come up with a good post party anthem, but singer/songwriter LaJohnson really knocked this one out of the park. And his partner, MC Proper, did an amazing job with the family friendly radio edit Errybody Be Tired (Of Auto Tunin’).  All the power of the original in half the time.


Going Postal.

In this riveting murder/post office procedural, brilliant but misanthropic Post Officer, Kenny Hammer, discovers a body part in the mail. This leads him to team up with sexy but smart FBI agent, Amber Bradley, who is also a world champion kickboxer. After they solve that first case in record time, the government assigns the unlikely couple to work together on ALL Post Office related murders. Tensions rise as Hammer and Bradley begin to flirt, investigate the decades old unsolved postal related murder of Bradley’s favorite uncle, and break all the rules by going out of their jurisdiction to investigate a Fed Ex related serial killer. A gripping show with plots ripped straight out of the headlines and not a bad advertisement for the endangered USPS.


Ren Fest Talkie Guy.

He’s at his office job, dressed normally, but he’s still yelling really loud like he was doing his shtick out at the Renaissance Festival. It is hilarious. I could go on and on about this bit for twenty minutes and I still couldn’t go on about it for as long as the sketch lasted.



As in “that shit is used!” If something’s really sick or tight you can go the extra mile and say, “that shit is gently used.”


Senator Bob Sanderson accidentally masturbating during the Republican debate on PBS.

This was a groundbreaking twist on the inevitable revelation of inappropriate sexual conduct and the inspiration for the most politically damaging animated gif ever. While the strange display did give him a brief jump in the polls, the revelation of the underlying psychological condition ultimately tanked his candidacy. One prominent political analyst said, “America is looking for a team player.” Personally, I saw the candidate Republicans claim they want: a no-nonsense guy who takes what he wants.





This innovative program scans your e-mails, g-chats,  Google+ status updates, etc. for trigger words or phrases like stress, alcohol, chocolate, in-laws, and CGI additions to original Star Wars trilogy. When a danger level is detected, GoogleYourMom checks in with you to make sure you’re okay and that you’re not fucking up your life. Messages include–“Are you hungry? Should we order a pizza?”, “Do you feel safe? Should we call a cab?”, “Do you want me to look on ebay for the unaltered 2006 DVDs?” Under particularly harsh circumstances you will get this message: “I’m not angry, I’m just disappointed.” Having received that message more than once, let me tell you, it is effective. When something that exists on the internet is disappointed in you, that is a wake up call.


British Man Alarmed By Cat.

“Oh, bugger me, a pussy!” will be in our cultural lexicon for some time to come.


Zombie of the Zombies.

In this brilliant meta mash-up, a group of attractive young twentysomethings are infected with a mysterious zombie plague while locked in a movie theater watching a marathon of zombie movies. The massive variety of types of zombies, I mean, like, there’s both fast and slow, makes this film totally used.


The AIDS Dolphin.

Is AIDS Dolphin tasteless? Oh my, yes. Is there a possibility that the omnipresence of this promiscuous marine mammal is helping to raise awareness of a horrible disease? You bet.


This exciting new site allows you to post all the angry, bitter, ugly things you don’t want to share on all your public accounts. features an intricate connection system in which all friendship requests are auto blocked giving you the satisfaction of saying no without all the social risk. Warning: This one is a real time suck. Almost more than


The Salad Burger.

The Jiffy Burger franchise’s game changing idea of constructing an entire heart healthy salad (with lettuce, ham, cheese, jerk chicken, and Low Fat BBQ Chipotle Honey Mustard Dressing) then serving it between two massive quarter pound Angus Beef Burgers on a Butter Injected Bun was only missing one thing: bacon. Luckily, the company recognized this embarrassing gaffe, called a press conference, made a public apology, and immediately released The Salad Burger 2.0: Bacon Harder.


This one.

And that’s 2011! I look forward to writing my Best of 2012 which should include only one item: Best Apocalypse.

If you feel I missed any really, really great things that didn’t happen in 2011, feel free to add yours to the comments section.

Happy New Year and all the best (real or fake) in 2012!


Filed under Uncategorized

A Death Star To Guide Me

The following is the letter I should have sent to Santa Claus when I was a young boy.

Dear Mr. Claus,

My name is Joseph Aaron Scrimshaw. The adults in my family call me Joey. I hate that. I tell them my name is Joseph. They laugh and call me cute. I tell them their reaction is condescending and pejorative. At this point, most adults leave the room.

Their loss.

But back to subject matter that is more germane to this missive. In regards to my Christmas present this year–it is my deepest desire to be the first child on my block to own a Death Star Space Station play set inspired by the major motion picture event, Star Wars.

Now, Santa, I realize you are probably not a fan of this recently released sci fi/fantasy epic since you are of the older generation and probably prefer more adult fare such as Annie Hall, ABBA:The Movie, or Exorcist II:The Heretic.

Suffice it to say, like yourself, Star Wars is rooted in ancient mythologies. Its timeless narrative allows young people to vicariously live a life of noble heroism through the main character, Luke Skywalker.

The film reminds us that we all have exciting destinies. As soon as a fascist regime brutally murders our parents or guardians, oh, the adventures we will have!

At the end of the film (after his second parental figure, Obi Wan Kenobi, has also been murdered) Luke Skywalker deals a terrible blow to the Galactic Empire by destroying the aforementioned space station, The Death Star.

The film’s phenomenal box office success has generated an unprecedented wave of merchandise. There are Star Wars glasses, posters, cereals, pillow cases, ornaments, etc. In Germany, you can even get Star Wars toilet paper.

Wiping your ass with an image of C-3PO seems like an odd way to express your interest in the film. But then, it’s Germany. I don’t need to tell Kris Kringle how weird the Germans can be.

(As a side note: I am so completely surrounded by the oeuvre of Star Wars, I often wonder if it will warp my mind and lead me to an adult life in which I obsessively quote the film and pretend any long cylindrical item I see is a lightsaber. So it goes.)

The most popular tie-in product is the Kenner toy company’s line of action figures. Action figures are like dolls that don’t threaten your masculinity. As much. The Death Star is a play set for these action figures. Sort of like Barbie’s Mansion, but evil.

And speaking of evil, I realize the irony of celebrating the birth of Jesus Christ by receiving something called The Death Star. I could argue that there is a STAR connection to the story of Jesus’ birth, but I think we both know I would be equivocating.

I ask you to judge the Death Star not by the blatantly evil name (in fact, one wonders how the Empire got this name past the steering committee. Perhaps The Force was used?) or the rather inflated suggested retail price of $49.95, but rather judge it by the joy it would bring to me–young Joseph Aaron Scrimshaw. An intelligent, sensitive young man trapped in the barren wastes of the frozen tundra that is Northern Minnesota.

(Another side note: Northern Minnesota is much like the North Pole if most of the elves were alcoholics and Mrs. Claus had never heard of contraceptive devices. That is to say: it is lacking in magic.)

Rest assured, Santa, that I have exhausted every other possibility for acquiring the Death Star. I have asked my 26-year-old hippie parents to buy it for me. They answered a firm “no,” shaking their needlessly long hippie hair.

Even both of my Grandmothers put together to form a sort of financial Mecha-Grandmother could not afford the Death Star. I find this hard to believe as I have personally witnessed my maternal Grandmother smoke at least $60 worth of Virginia Slims cigarettes in one sitting.

And so, Santa, as holographic Princess Leia said to Obi-Wan Kenobi, you are my only hope. I risk no hyperbole when I say my entire world view for the rest of my life hangs in the balance.

I realize the Death Star is merely a collection of cheap plastic (and orange foam used to clumsily symbolize the garbage in the trash compactor), however, what magic has been fused into the plastic? Is it really an overly priced commercial tie-in? Or is it like a star itself? Both a muse to sentimental poets and a very real giver of light, warmth, and life?

If I receive the Death Star, I will be justified in my current belief that the world is a bright and happy place in which one can always make one’s dream a reality.

OR these fragile beliefs could be ruthlessly shattered by YOU. And I will be sentenced to a long and hollow life devoid of joy, compassion, and love. Suddenly, $49.95 doesn’t sound that expensive, does it?

Yours with much affection,

Joseph Aaron Scrimshaw


P.S. I must warn you in advance, I will not be able to leave out any cookies for you. As I mentioned earlier, my mother is a hippie, so I hope you will enjoy her seasonal collection of dried fruits and unsalted nuts.

Merry Christmas and May the Force Be with You.

A version of this story is also available in my book COMEDY OF DOOM.
Thanks for reading.

Leave a Comment

Filed under Comedy Story, Uncategorized

Condom Plus One

A wise friend once shared this pearl of wisdom about the early stages of a romantic relationship:

“Never buy a large box of condoms. This is hubris and you will pay.”

He told me this on a Friday. On Saturday, I bought the largest box of condoms I could find. The only way it could have been larger is if I bought it in bulk at Costco. On Sunday, with no actual knowledge of the hideously large box of condoms, the woman I was dating broke up with me.

I developed a paranoid habit of purchasing condoms one at a time. Unfortunately, I thought it was too odd to just buy one condom by itself, so I often bought one other thing. You know, to make it less weird.

Please, allow me to assure you:

There is no single item that when purchased with a single condom does not make the single condom even more bizarre.

As a Public Service Announcement for the socially awkward dating community, here’s a list of seven items one could purchase along with a single condom. Some of these are purchases that I have actually made. Some are not. Feel free to contact me with your guesses. If you are correct, I will buy you one condom and nothing else.

A condom and a Star Wars action figure.

This seems like it should be the ultimate statement of confidence: yes, I purchase Star Wars toys as an adult and plan on copulating. And yet, it’s not. There’s really no individual Star Wars character that doesn’t imply some disturbing fetish–Darth Vader equals auto-erotic asphyxiation; Force Spin-Action Yoda equals tantric masturbation; Princess Leia in Hoth Gear equals a deep and abiding love of cold repressed women. If you attempt to buy a condom and a Star Wars action figure, the checkout person will ask the same question about both products: “So, you’re not going to be taking this out of the package, are you?”

A condom and a Snickers bar.

This may seem like a safe, casual purchase. After all, everyone needs a mid-day snack and wants to avoid pregnancy and STDs. I would, however, advise against such a phallic shaped treat as a Snickers bar. You don’t want people to think you’re using the condom ON the Snickers bar. You will increase the odds of this interpretation if you purchase a magnum condom and a king-sized Snickers. Actually, any food product is a bad idea. An apple and a condom suggests you’re planning some sort of dubious Garden of Eden cosplay. And that’s not going to help anyone.

A condom and a day planner.

This tells a simple and sad story. You will be having sex exactly once this year. You just need to pick the date and write it in your sad little calendar, you sad anal-retentive sex planner.

A condom and a thumb drive.

This is almost acceptable. Perhaps you are a spy. All spies should have a condom and a thumb drive. Unless you’re also purchasing a wristwatch that shoots ninja throwing stars, you will just come off as someone who needs more digital room to store all the episodes of “My Little Pony” you’re pirating online.

A condom and a hoodie.

When you buy something that goes on the upper half of your body and something that goes on the lower half of your body, it implies you’re putting together an ensemble. A condom and a hoodie! It’s a new fashion statement! EXTREME casual! Look for photos in Vogue! Upsetting!

A condom and a Mother’s Day card.

I feel no need to elaborate on this one.

A condom and…another condom.

Yes, you’re tempting fate by purchasing two condoms together. However, this might be the most elegant solution to this thorny condom problem that plagues tens of neurotic shoppers every other day.

If you buy two single condoms together, there’s no other product to inform the awkwardness of the single condom. Perhaps you’re just too broke to buy a WHOLE box. And while two condoms doesn’t suggest you will be having sex often, it does create a sense of hope.

Even if you never use those condoms, they will have one another. Two condoms, together in their loneliness. Like so many things in life, it’s kind of beautiful if you just stop and take the time to obsessively over think it.

Happy condom buying, everyone, happy condom buying.


Filed under Uncategorized