Defenestration

“This I Really Believe,” by Steve Wilson

I believe that sunshine is good in small doses, but that an afternoon spent lying in the sun in Cabo San Lucas will probably result in a nasty sunburn; I believe that dogs smell bad and that cats smell good, despite their refusal to obey my commands. I believe that hard work is overrated, that too much of anything probably is, and that even my four year-old could do that.

I believe that the criss-crossing telephone wires above my sidewalk might spell out enigmatic messages if I could just figure out the right angle to look at them.

“Go, Georgia!” by Justin Fish

One of our esteemed candidates for the Presidency made the news recently for a comment which seemed to elicit quite a few giggles from all but the most ardent of supporters. I giggled too. Of course, I’m just embarrassingly immature, so my laughter didn’t surprise me. For all I know, I might have been thinking about something completely different at the time. What are some really good reasons for sticking string cheese in light sockets? Why do people keep telling me to try it because, oh boy, you’ll be so glad you did!

That probably was not what I was thinking, because I’m thinking about it now, and it’s obviously a ridiculous idea. Reading by cheese light makes you hungry, and nobody can eat that many crackers.

“How To Cook Breakfast,” by Dashiell Lunde

Dear Friends,

After extensive study, I have finally discovered the one and only- the finest way to cook breakfast. It’s safe to say All the World will benefit from my discovery, so upon reading this article, don’t just keep it to yourself. Please inform your friends as well.

“Here, it is Bieber,” by Patrick Haas

Here, it’s all Bieber. During week one in Daegu, “Korea’s most colorful city,” which is actually, “Korea’s card catalogue of faded gray sky scrapers, overcast skies and endless stream of black Hyundai’s,” I digress into the infantilization that occurs when relocating to a new country. Neon signs are everywhere: small dashes and zeroes mixed into an array of disfigurement as if someone has jumbled the shapes together in a felt bag and then blindly arranged them into miniature squares. My rationalized excuse for not yet enrolling in Korean lessons is that I’m afraid Korean words might lose their beauty. What are probably cell phone adverts and other mindless billboard messages look like oversized scrabble pieces, as if the whole, uniform city is actually a playing board being used to somehow score points in life.

“A Sign of God,” by Matt Kolbet

The Westboro Baptist Church has gained a certain degree of notoriety for protesting both military and celebrity funerals. Their attempts at linking all deaths to God’s condemnation of America’s laxity towards sin have, unfortunately, become hackneyed. Their most typical signs read: God Hates Fags or Thank God for Dead Soldiers. What’s most shameful about these placards is not so much the vitriol of the sentiments, but rather the missed opportunity.

“‘Happy Holidays’: Bah, Humbug!” by Tom Jemielity

Pity poor Ebenezer Scrooge. Throwing open his window that nippy December morning, he’s so culturally insensitive as to wish everyone a merry Christmas (Pardon my language!). Had he only known how to celebrate the seasonal festivities in a more thoughtful, less offensive way, he could have shouted “Happy Holidays” at all he met. Scrooge, alas, forgot that lots of people out there are not Christians, don’t know what a Christian is, don’t take being a Christian seriously, regard themselves only as nominal Christians, hate Christians, or have vague ideas at best that something Christian is somehow or other connected with December 25th. That’s a big audience ready to be offended. Be very careful.

“Costumes,” by William Henderson

He was going to be Batman, and then he was going to be the Lone Ranger, and he even considered being the Man in the Yellow Hat, but his mother was pregnant, and the idea of waiting a year so that his sister could be George was brilliant, so out went the Man in the Yellow Hat, and out went Batman and the Lone Ranger, and one week before Halloween, he asked to be Max.

“A Dozen First Date Turnoffs Or Turn-Ons for Emotionally Fragile Academic Douche-Bags, Dipshits, and Other Neurotic Types Who Would Like to Not Eat Dinner Alone for Once,” by Tom Johns

1. Don’t apologize for nervously vomiting on your date. This is to be expected, so a simple “pardon me” will do.

2. Don’t start a savage attack of any PBS or NPR show, one is bound to be a favorite of your date. Saying something like, “Dr. Who is stupid” will usually result in tears and possibly an at-table suicide attempt.

“Your Rhetorical Questions Answered,” by Matt Kolbet

Do bears shit in the woods?

Sometimes. Scientists have searched for many years for an ursine latrine but have found it as elusive as an elephant’s graveyard. Their best guess—based on the idea that living things ingest food as well as expel waste, and old episodes of Gentle Ben—is that bears have a highly developed bladder that permits them, like Wal-Mart employees, to wait extremely long periods before going to the bathroom.

“Excuses for Late English 112, Section 004 Papers from a Large, Unnamed Community College in Virginia,” by Jessica McCaughey

I have food poisoning.
My car broke down.
My brother messed up the printer.
I didn’t read the story.
I didn’t get the story.
I hated the story.