Chill, man! I can see that you’re upset, but you don’t have to get in my face, okay? Let me just roll up my window, shut the motor off, and we can move to the sidewalk and talk it over. No need for aggression. Nice and easy like.

You seem incredulous, so allow me to reiterate: No, I really have never heard of a turning indicator before. Should I have? It doesn’t ring a bell, to be honest. Is it an iPhone app? Turning indicator, turning indicator, turning indicator…nope. It’s kind of scientific sounding, though — like something you’d find on a highly technical robot arm.

Is that why you’re so angry? That I’m not in the loop about some trivial detail in what sounds to be obviously specialized subject matter? Who are you, the knowledge-about-turning-indicators police? (Don’t answer those questions, by the way — they were rhetorical.) Obviously the topic is near and dear to you, seeing how offended you are by this. Not everyone is into what you’re into, okay?

Let me ask you this: You ever heard of King Crimson? Oh, yeah? All of them? Well I congratulate you on your exacting musical tastes. Okay, what about Mahavishnu Orchestra? Gotcha! See, it’s not really possible to know or care about every little tiny detail that exists in the world, is it? The fact that I don’t happen to know or care what a turning indicator is doesn’t make your scientific research in the field of robotics any more or less meaningful — it just is. It takes all kinds in this crazy world, those who know about turning indicators and those who know John McLaughlin is the greatest living fusion guitarist and perhaps guitarist period.

If it’ll appease you any, I’d be happy to research the basics about turning indicators, though I’m obviously not going to be an expert like you are after what I assume to be years of scholastic endeavor and a PhD in electrical engineering. A quick Google search on my phone here and we’ll be in business. Just one sec. Okay. Oh, my. The first link is an entire Wikipedia entry on Automotive Lighting. Are they like robotic headlights? I’ll have to scan through the content outline. Let’s see. “Lighting system of a motor vehicle…” “Driving lamps…” “Cornering lamps…” “Daytime running lamps…” “Dim-dip lamps.” Ha! That last one makes me think of Dippin’ Dots.

Let me just scroll down and zoom. Okay: Turn signals. Hmm. Close, but nothing here about turning indicators, per se. Oh, they are? Okay, that’s slightly misleading on Wikipedia’s part, but I’ll take your word for it. That’s the problem with the English language, am I right? Eighteen different ways to refer to one thing. God help us. It probably makes your field research unbearable. Though it could be worse. You could be an Eskimo writing a thesaurus. Don’t they have like a hundred words for snow?

Sorry for the tangent. Let’s see, so it looks like most cars have these. It says: “used to indicate to other drivers that the operator intends a lateral change of position.” What a fabulous idea! Does my car come with these? I’m going to be stoked if it does — I didn’t even know I had a five-disc changer for like a month after I bought my car! Let’s see…”Electric turn signal lights were devised as early as” — oh, man, they’ve been around since 1907! Someone’s out of the loop, eh? Mahavishnu Orchestra’s only been around since the seventies. Eek! Foot in mouth!

Fascinating stuff, man! I’m just curious, but how did you get into the field of robotic car lighting? No, wait. You don’t have to answer that — you don’t even know me! I hope there are no hard feelings. Honestly, I’m pretty excited to learn more about turning indicators, so if you’ve got any book recommendations for beginners that’d be great.

Be sure to check out Mahavishnu Orchestra — and Shakti, while you’re at it. I think for your musical sensibilities, John McLaughlin would be a perfect match!

Now if I can just get your insurance info, it looks like my trunk suffered some pretty extensive damage. I wish it could be settled another way, but you know what they say: the rear-ender is always at fault! Sucks to be you, man. Sorry.

Friends, family, thank you all so much for joining Monica and me here today for our special day. I’m not the best speechmaker, and so will try to keep this short and sweet. Hey, the hard part’s over, right? I’m so happy to have found you, Monica. This really is the fourth-greatest day of my life.

I don’t mean to sound insensitive, but I’ve been lucky enough to have had a few pretty awesome days up until this one. Take my 21st birthday, for example. It’s five in the morning and I’m wandering around the Luxor in Vegas by myself after having gotten booted from Crazy Horse Too. On a drunken whim — and I was very, very, very drunk — I decide to pull out every last dollar and cent I have on me, which was my rent money, by the way, and place it on the Roulette table. Twenty-one black! Can you believe it? A little irresponsible on my part, but good God, did I win a crap-load of money! That was a pretty fine day, people. Third-best.

Now, not to bring the mood down or upset you, Monica, but I should probably also tell everyone about the time I almost died. Almost…had it not been the second-greatest day of my life! I was walking around downtown San Francisco, completely lost, looking for this massage parlor a friend had recommended to me in Chinatown. I’d only been to Chinatown a couple times, and the way he described the “service” at this particular parlor, well, I had to find this place. Anyway, so I stop this old Mexican dude, and I’m like, “Hey, hombre. Donde esta el Chinatown?” Unbeknownst to me, or this other poor bastard, a window washer’s scaffolding had broken off twenty stories directly above where we stood. Well, obviously it missed me! And I was able to get enough information out of him before he was crushed to find the massage parlor! Bonus! Talk about a happy ending.

So you might be thinking, “that had to be the greatest day of his life; what could be greater than that?” Nope. Second-greatest, folks. Second. The greatest day of my life was when I went skydiving in the Mojave Desert. That might sound fairly unremarkable to those who haven’t done it, but seriously, what a rush.

So now, before everyone here today, I proclaim proudly and without hesitation that this is by far the fourth-greatest day of my life. Yes, sir, I’m a lucky man. Not the luckiest — that would be ridiculous to suggest. People who win the lottery are generally a lot luckier than I am, if you want to split hairs about it. I mean, the odds of a guy like me finding someone as wonderful as Monica are pretty slim. But that’s nothing, and I mean NOTHING, in comparison to the odds of winning the freaking lottery. It’s something like one in 18,000,000, right? No damn way that’s happening in my lifetime. Me and Monica, though? Probably one in 150 or 160.

Speaking of whom, can you guys believe how beautiful she looks today? Way better than anybody else in attendance, for sure. I can honestly say, Monica, that I love you more than anything else in the world I have loved up to this point. There could be other things down the line I end up really enjoying or getting a kick out of, but for right now, in this moment, the highest share of my affection is reserved for you. Imagine a pie chart of the things I love — you are the largest portion of that chart. You are nearly my everything.

Sorry about the food, by the way. I know it sucks. I mean…cold soup?! It’s actually supposed to be cold? What gives? Not my idea, for the record. I won’t say whose, but not mine.

I’ll bring this to a close with a little story about the time I met Monica. It was at a company Christmas party a few years ago. Admittedly, I was a little blitzed. Like, the-bartender-had-wrestled-my-car-keys-away-from-me blitzed. At the time, Monica was working for a catering company, and as luck would have it — not like lottery luck, but pretty good luck, for sure — Monica was working our party! She looked smokin’ hot in her uniform. Anyway, she didn’t take too kindly to the kinds of advances I was making and told me I should sober up. I think I may have been on blow, too. Was I, honey? Well, long story short, the truly caring person we all know Monica to be ended up giving me a ride home that night — even walked me, a total stranger, to the door! The only thing she could have done to top that was come inside and make sure I was OK, which, in hindsight, she probably should have done, as I had pretty bad alcohol poisoning and probably should have gone to the hospital to get my stomach pumped. Which, take it from me, is no fun, for the record.

Anyway, I’ve been up on this mic long enough. Let me just say, I love you, Monic — hey, anyone see where she went? Probably the bathroom. She’s got Irritable Bowel Syndrome for those of you who don’t know. Don’t say anything, though. She’s sensitive about it.

Thanks, everyone. Enjoy!

Monday, June 16

Current mood: feisty!

Listening to: Los Lonely Boys, Live at Blue Cat Blues

Got some exciting news today. Randy is maybe moving back to the Bay Area! (You guys should remember Randy from previous posts. You better!) Anyway, he and I had talked about trying to do that hot dog vending thing for so long, and I randomly look online yesterday and see that…Stanley’s Steamers is hiring! I admit it kind of started out as a joke, but I’ve been thinking about the whole idea and honestly believe it would be a terrific life experience. Just vend hot dogs in Union Square for a year or so. It’s way cheaper than moving abroad. Imagine how many interesting people we’d meet!

Have you guys heard there’s gonna be a new Los Lonely Boys album? Supposedly by July 1st. (I don’t know if I can wait that long!) You’ve probably noticed I blog about them from time to time, as they’re one of my favorite contemporary blues/Tejano/Christian rock bands. If you still haven’t picked up that disc I recommended back when I started this blog, now’s the time! Get on the LLB train, people! Toot tooooot!

So I’m curious what you all think on the hot dog thing. Comments, guys! (And not just you, Mom!) I’m really hoping for some feedback here, and would love to hear about other people’s life aspirations.

Eric

p.s. Randy, I faxed you the application. Get it back to me ASAP!

Tuesday, June 17

Current mood: poetic

Listening to: Los Lonely Boys, Los Lonely Boys

So, many of you know that when I’m not blogging, I dabble in poetry. I’ve got a couple things I’m working on that I’m thinking of submitting to The New Yorker or somewhere like that. The first one is kind of “older style” mixed with sort of like a contemporary “slam” feel, and I think it’s got promise. (Be nice in the comments, though. It’s just a draft!) Here’s an excerpt:

“The Cliff (Reprise)”

The cliff doth naff

And high as s**t

Break me off a piece

Of that towering cliff

Aboard a ship

U.S.S. Hennessy

Do you feel me, skip?

We are where we be

The cliff doth naff …

And ne’er to wit

Kind of “urban classic” (hence the curse word — sorry), a style I see more and more these days, especially on other blogs. The mixture of “old” and “new” language has kind of a poetic “zing” to it, no? Anyway, I’d really love any feedback you might want to give. Still no thoughts from you guys on yesterday’s hot dog post — do I detect a hint of jealousy perhaps?

Kidding! You know I love you.

Randy, where you at, fool!

Wednesday, June 18

Current mood: amused

Listening to: Smash Mouth, All Star: The Smash Hits

Mr. Jo Bangles (that’s my cat, for all you newbies; Welcome!) did the funniest thing this morning. Oh. Man. You. Should. Have. Seen it! There was this fly buzzing behind the mini blinds and he noticed it and sort of perched beneath the window and then just started going, “ma-a-a-a-a-aow! Ma-a-a-a-aowww!” — all robotic-like. You know how cats do that when they see a bug? Anyway he sounded like a robot, and his head was perched kinda curiously to the side. I didn’t have my phone on me at the moment and couldn’t video it, so you’ll just have to take my word for it, okay? Classic.

What about you folks? Any crazy cat stories you want to share? Don’t be shy! We’ve all got ‘em. And mom, this isn’t an open invitation to regale us with Bubba tales. Again. You can do that on your blog, k? (Give Bubba a pat for me!)

Waiting to hear back from Randy on our exciting plans. Nothing yet, but I’m sure he’s as excited as I am!

You guys sure are quiet. I was really hoping the poem would spark some intellectual discussion and maybe prompt some of you to post your own poems, but I suppose not just anyone can write poetry. “Alas.”

Thursday, June 19

Current mood: admonishing

Listening to: Lizzie McGuire soundtrack

Hey, I just wanted to remind everyone that the comments forum is for constructive feedback and generally nice discussion. Mean-spirited, curse-laden language will not be tolerated (nudge nudge, Mr. “Anonymous”). I’m not going to repeat what the comment said, but the mere idea that someone found my site by Googling “gayest blog ever” is just dumb. I don’t recall having ever used the word “gay” in a single post (not that I have anything against that stuff!).

So let’s keep it positive, people! My mom’s comments about Bubba and Mr. Jo Bangles are great examples of what I’m looking for — not to mention she posted a link to LOL Cats (SO funny).

Also, Randy, if you’re reading this, I faxed you the application on Sunday and you haven’t sent it back yet. Please get on top of it or we might miss our golden opportunity! There are only so many positions available! Carpe diem, dude! And remember to include the same story in your cover letter about the time we came up with the idea, and also remember to mention we’d like to be paired together on the same hot dog cart should they offer us the positions.

Please tell me you’ve checked out that Los Lonely Boys disc by now. Believe me, you’re going to regret it if you haven’t! For those that did: what did you think? The comments field is wide open!

Friday, June 20

Current mood: little sad

Listening to: Los Lonely Boys, Sacred

Well, I’m sorry to say this will be my last post until further notice. I was really hoping we could build a little community around this thing and encourage one another and recommend music and stuff, but it seems I tend to attract the shyer kind of reader.

I just hope that I’ve maybe inspired a few of you to step outside yourselves — to write that poem, listen to that CD you’ve been curious about, or go on that crazy hot-dog-vending adventure you and Randy have always dreamed of (or whatever your path in life may be). I know my mom has really considered this a positive experience! I just hope the rest of you have, too. I’d love to hear your thoughts on this last post in the comments section, or some thoughts on my poem from Tuesday. Or any (generally positive) thoughts you might have to share about anything at all on any subject you feel like commenting about.

Eric

p.s. Randy, your phone got turned off. Pay your bill, dummy! 😉

A sunny mid-morning, August 31, 1803, on the banks of the Ohio River: Captain Meriwether Lewis meets for the first time William Clark, Second Lieutenant, U.S. Army, who has been selected to co-head their soon-to-be historic voyage. Lewis appears strong, confident, while Clark seems somewhat nervous and apprehensive.

LEWIS: Second Lieutenant Clark?

CLARK: Yes, sir.

LEWIS: Captain Meriwether Lewis. A pleasure to make your acquaintance, good sir!

CLARK: The pleasure is mine, sir.

LEWIS: Well, then, the party is ready. All supplies have been procured. Shall we commence our journey?

CLARK: Indeed, Captain.

LEWIS: Very good!

The party, mostly comprised of young soldiers, proceeds with Lewis and Clark at the lead.

Suddenly, Clark halts.

LEWIS: What is it, good sir?

CLARK: Pray forgive me, sir. But it seems I’ve neglected to put on breeches.

LEWIS (with pause, examining Clark’s bare legs): Ah…so it would seem. Well…

CLARK (blushing): Excuse me momentarily, sir.

LEWIS: Very well. (To himself) This is a rather odd fellow…

Lewis, Clark, and the other members of the expedition have hit an impasse along the banks of the Missouri River. The two leaders discuss how they might cross the treacherous waters.

LEWIS: Our path is right blocked by these tumultuous rapids, good Clark. What do you say we do?

CLARK: It is a decision not made lightly, sir. Dare we brave these waters, all of us may enter, but some, I fear, shan’t return.

LEWIS: You are wise beyond years, Clark. I agree with your assessment. That being said, do there exist any other options?

CLARK: Hmm. Perchance we can hire an Indian to guide us across?

LEWIS: Hire an Indian?! How very absurd, Clark. This is not the Oregon Trail!

CLARK: Ah, very right. Then we caulk the wagons and float them across?

LEWIS (groaning): There are no wagons, Clark!

CLARK: Well then I’m out of ideas.

Outside a teepee in snow-blanketed Fort Mandan, present-day North Dakota: Lewis, Clark, and the Corps of Discovery have settled in temporarily for winter. Touissant Charbonneau, a French fur trapper, has graciously offered the services of his young Shoshone bride, Sacagawea, to the explorers.

TOUISSANT: Gentlemen, allow me to present Sacagawea, my young Indian wife. Sacagawea is fluent in many dialects used by both local and more distant tribes. Her skills in translating will be of invaluable aid to your mission.

LEWIS: Sacagawea, it is my pleasure to make your acquaintance.

Sacagawea nods subtly. Clark then steps forward, raising a stiff, open palm toward her at shoulder level.

CLARK: How.

SACAGAWEA: I beg your pardon?

CLARK: Uh…how?

SACAGAWEA: How what? How do I do?

CLARK: I am confounded. Is this not how your people offer salutation?

SACAGAWEA: A simple “greetings” would have done nicely, sir. Indians do not really use “how” in this manner.

CLARK (embarrassed): Oh…

LEWIS: Sacagawea, please forgive my partner’s insulting generalization. He is newly traveled to this territory and unaccustomed to such diversity.

SACAGAWEA: It is fine, sir.

LEWIS: Say then! Would you perchance have some opium we may partake of?

SACAGAWEA (whispering to her husband): Who are these jackasses?

Lewis, Clark, Sacagawea, and the rest of the team have paused atop a mountain ridge to discuss their geographical bearings. The party is visibly tired and irritable, and rumors that they have mistakenly fallen off course are afoot.

SACAGAWEA: Captain Lewis, there have been questions from the rest of the party as to whether we are lost. What shall I tell them?

LEWIS: Nonsense! I am quite positive the Great Ocean of the West is just beyond the next ridge.

CLARK (gently to Lewis): But you professed this very claim five ridges ago, and here we are, as yet…ocean-less.

LEWIS (suddenly angry): Okay then, Clark! If you’re so intelligent, which direction should we take?

CLARK: Well, we certainly would not have borne north at Lemhi Pass! We should have maintained course due west…but noooooo…Captain Lewis said he knew exactly where we were!

LEWIS: Well, at least I’m taking some initiative. All you’ve done this whole time is pick flowers and complain about how badly your feet ache! Like a four-year-old boy!

CLARK: Obstinate old horse! (Begins assembling his gear.) That’s it, Meriwether; I’m taking half the party and going on my merry way!

LEWIS: Very well then, misguided idiot!

SACAGAWEA (to herself): What did I say? “Why don’t we just stop and ask a fur trapper for directions?” (Shaking her head.) Men.

CLARK: Fine, Lewis, you insufferable mule!

SACAGAWEA: Nobody eeeeever listens to the Indian. Typical.

Although no older or contemporary descriptions exist, the appearance of beings etymologically related to álfar in various later folklore strongly suggests that the belief in Elvis was common among all the Germanic tribes and not limited solely to the ancient Scandinavians.

English folktales of the early modern period typically portray Elvis as small…

Several minor forces, the servants of gods, are presented such as Byggvir and Beyla, who belonged to Freyr, the lord of the Elvis, and they were probably Elvis, since they were not counted among the gods.

Full-sized famous men could be elevated to the rank of Elvis after death, such as the petty king Olaf Geirstad, whereas the smith hero Wayland Smith was titled as “ruler of Elvis” while alive…

In order to protect themselves against malevolent Elvis, Scandinavians could use a so-called Elf cross (Alfkors, Älvkors or Ellakors)…

…just outside of Reykjavik, Iceland, a soccer game was called to a halt when a misled ball rolled off the beaten path, and stopped right next to a sign that marked the home of Elvis, believed to dwell near the stones where the ball was resting.

Although first attested in the sense “sharp pain caused by Elvis,” it is later attested denoting Neolithic flint arrow-heads, which were used in healing rituals, and alleged to be used by witches (and perhaps Elvis) to injure people and cattle.

The Elvis could be seen dancing over meadows, particularly at night and on misty mornings.

In the USA, Canada, and Britain, the modern children’s folklore of Santa Claus typically includes diminutive, green-clad Elvis with pointy ears and long noses as Santa’s assistants.

The grim Norse-style Elvis of human size introduced in Poul Anderson’s fantasy novel The Broken Sword from 1954 are one of the first precursors to modern fantasy Elvis, although they are overshadowed (and preceded) by the Elvis of the twentieth-century philologist and fantasy writer J. R. R. Tolkien.

If a human watched the dance of the Elvis, he would discover that even though only a few hours seemed to have passed, many years had passed in the real world.

Half-Elvis and divergent races of Elvis, such as high Elvis and dark Elvis, were also popularized at this time; in particular, the evil drow of Dungeons & Dragons have inspired the dark Elvis of many other works of fantasy.

The American cookie company Keebler has long advertised that its cookies are made by Elvis in a hollow tree…

Comic Sans MS

Times New Roman? Times New Roman? All I have to say is: what a joke! You know what I picture when I hear the words “Times New Roman”? I see a toga-wearing, thirteen-year-old boy-humping pervert bouncing up and down in a horse-drawn chariot, thumbing through philosophy books and eating grapes or something! I mean, should we really be expected to take this font seriously?!

Although, I guess that’s kind of the pot calling the kettle black.

Courier New

I thought maybe I could rock the “New” thing, too. Imitation’s the highest form of flattery, right? Although, I must admit, that wasn’t really my intention. Honestly, I wanted to ride some coat tails — a smooth and easy journey to the top. Fame, fortune…maybe my own little section in the New York Times. And look where it got me: a bunch of lazy-ass college freshman using my generously proportioned curvatures to inflate their term papers in order to satisfy length requirements. Yeah, sure, I mean, it’s nice to have a bit part in the final product, but let’s be realistic. I know their drafts are being done in Times.

Makes me feel like a three-dollar whore.

Gill Sans MT

Alright, Times New Roman, we all know you think you’re better than the rest of us. What with your ubiquitous default status on practically every single word processing application known to man, and your supposed readability, and your fancy-pants serifs. Well, aren’t you just God’s gift to typeface?

Let me ask you something, though: Why the pretentious “New Roman,” huh? What’s that all about? See, because I’m looking at you, and then I’m looking at Times. You, then Times. You, Times. You know what I see? The SAME FREAKING FONT, you smug S.O.B.!!! Doesn’t any-damn-body else realize this?!

You know what else? In case you hadn’t bothered to notice, serifs are EFFEMINATE! They make you look like Nancy boy! Like a piggy, piggy pig-tailed little GIRL! Stupid serif-wielding booby man!

Webdings

Double right arrow black widow spider crescent wrench ball peen hammer tropical oasis ear spider dialogue blurb first place trophy first place trophy.

Bauhaus 93

Since when does a little popularity among acne-ridden high school English students and their underachieving instructors earn someone bona fide street cred? Back in the day, it meant something to be a font. You were there, living and breathing it, one with the zeitgeist. A font was just as much a cultural building block as it was a means of written representation.

Times New Roman is nothing but the retarded brainchild of some stuffy, rotten-toothed Limey who wouldn’t know class and good looks if they were type-stamped across his forehead. Big whoop, you were developed for The London Times. What kind of a history is that? I was developed for the visual distillation of an entire intellectual and artistic school of thought — not to mention the fact that I later went on to represent the purveyors of a remarkable new musical genre (I won’t even get into the groupie stories. Good Lord.). Then, what do you know? Here comes Times New Roman, popping up in all the popular new publications and stealing all the babes.

Prick.

Poor Richard

I know what you’re thinking, Times New Roman. “Pathetic,” right? You think I’m pathetic. That’s cool, man. Whatever.

Let me ask you something though, homes: You got an almanac? ‘Cause I got one. You got one?

Do you?

Huh?

1. What is Best Buy’s policy on returning damaged items?

While Best Buy’s official policy states that we do accept returns on damaged items, said items must be manufacturer defects (i.e.; must reflect structural damage or operational malfunction at or before the point of purchase). Our policy further states that once an item has been opened, its tag removed, or its packaging altered in any manner whatsoever, responsibility for the structural integrity of that item falls solely on its purchaser.

2. All of your products are packaged. How am I supposed to know if something was damaged before I opened it?

Best Buy does not sell damaged or defective products. That is not in our policy.

3. Why was my digital camera broken when I opened it, then?

Best Buy cannot speculate on an answer to this question, as it is not in our policy to do so. Besides…you would probably know better than we would.

4. But I didn’t damage it!

Yes, you did.

5. Okay, how did I do it, then?

Perhaps you accidentally dropped the box before you purchased it. Or, maybe your kid, pretending it was a football, threw the box out of your shopping cart.

6. Wait a sec…how the heck did you know that?

Best Buy is omniscient and pansophical.

7. You realize those mean the same thing, don’t you?

Oh? Whoops! Guess we should have consulted our extensive array of electronic dictionaries, PDA’s, and handhelds from our Office Products section, near the rear of the store! We offer everything from basic devices to the most up-to-the-minute technologies, all at unbeatable prices.

8. Really? Sounds kind of neat. I think I’ll go back and — hey, hold on just a minute! I’m still not satisfied with my experience here. Is there someone else I can talk to about making a customer complaint regarding my camera?

Absolutely. Please step over to our Customer Care center at the counter opposite this one and they will assist you in filing an official complaint.

9. Am I not in that line now?

No. You are in the Customer Service line. You will need to speak with a Customer Care representative to register a complaint. Official complaint forms may be picked up at the Forms and Warranties counter near the front exit.

10. But I just waited an hour and a half in this line. Now you want me to go stand in two more lines?! Where’s the store manager?

If you wish to file an official complaint and speak with a store manager, you will actually need to stand in four more lines: Customer Care, Forms and Warranties, Managerial Appointments, and Managerial Consultations. Unfortunately, our policy states that Best Buy management may not be consulted without an appointment. If you wish to avoid the wait, you may also schedule an appointment by phone between the hours of 11:00 p.m. and 3:00 a.m, Mountain Standard Time.

11. Okay, okay, hold on. Let’s be reasonable. What if I have a warranty? Here. Will that make a difference at all?

Again, we must redirect you to the Forms and Warranties counter. However, we should advise that, depending on the type of warranty you purchased, it may not be the right kind. In fact, yes, we are certain it is not the right kind.

12. But you didn’t even look at it!

Correct. The Customer Service Department is not permitted to address warranty issues. Such inquiries must be presented at the Forms and Warranties counter, or discussed with a store manager.

13. You’re kidding me, right?

That is not in our policy.

14. Shouldn’t you guys have explained all this when I bought the warranty in the first place?

We did. Best Buy cashiers are trained to make all aspects of your warranty clear at the point of purchase. Speaking of clear, have you checked out the resolution on Sony’s new line of High Definition TVs? We’re offering them at a special discount till the end of the month!

15. You don’t think I’m falling for that one again, do you?

We had to try.

16. Would you mind trying a little harder to replace my camera, then?

We feel we have offered an exhaustive list of options in light of your particular situation. Replacing your camera, however, is not one of them. Nor will it ever be. No matter what.

17. Fine! You just lost my patronage forever! How about that?

Actually, that isn’t really true. Remember the two hundred dollars in Best Buy gift cards you got for Christmas? You know, the ones that say, “Not redeemable for cash?” Feel free to throw them away, if you like. Either way, we’ve already got the money.

18. You know what I’m going to tell your manager? That he’s running a Godforsaken crap hole!

We would advise against registering such charged complaints. Best Buy firmly maintains an equal-opportunity stance with regard to employees and customers alike, in strict compliance with anti-discrimination labor practices. We therefore will not investigate or even acknowledge any complaints suggestive of religious, sexual, or racial prejudice.

19. It’s a colloquialism, for God’s sake!

We trust the previous answer was clear on this issue. Also, when you buy that electronic dictionary, we would like to borrow it for a second.

20. Aren’t you people the least bit ashamed of yourselves?!

Best Buy proudly offers great service and top-quality products at even better prices.

No, in other words.

21. Yeah? Okay! You can take this camera and stick it where the sun doesn’t shine, you bastards! Also, will you do me a favor and ring this DVD player up here?

Because your patronage is important to us, we will make an exception this time and ring you up here. You may not use your gift cards toward this purchase, however, as the Customer Service register only accepts cash, credit, or debit.

From the Desk of John P. Walters

To: President George W. Bush

Re: Holy War on Drugs?

Dear Mr. President:

Over three decades have passed since President Richard Nixon declared drugs “America’s public enemy number one,” and that declaration still holds true, if we don’t count as relevant Osama Bin Laden, which, completely off the record, I understand we really haven’t been doing lately, anyway. Since that time, particularly since I took the position of Drug Czar at the beginning of your first term, I feel some progress has been made. Some, Mr. President, but not nearly enough.

With this in mind, we at the Office of National Drug Control Policy are proposing a revised tack in the War on Drugs, one based on a more progressive model and inspired by its sister conflict, the War on Terror. This new strategy will be more of an “if-you-can’t-beat-them-join-them” maneuver; or, perhaps more accurately, a sort of “fight-fire-with-fire” approach, except we will be taking the fire and fighting something totally different with it. By “it,” I am referring to “the fire.” And by “something totally different,” I am referring to “drugs.” By “the fire,” I am referring to “our new strategy.” And, finally, by “our new strategy,” I am talking about a Jihad on Drugs.

Yes, sir — Jihad. It is our intention to turn this fearsome term and the ideology it represents into our own weapon, to actually make people afraid to buy, sell, or use drugs, just as your administration has made people afraid to drive across bridges and travel internationally by constantly mentioning the phrase “terror alert: elevated.” While we understand there are differing kinds of jihad — personal, verbal, or “peaceful” jihads, for example — we do not know exactly what those other kinds are really about, and so have completely ignored them for purposes of our plan. In other words, we are referring solely to “bad jihad,” although I do not believe these are the exact words of the Quran.

Regarding ground-level tactics, we have already drawn out plans for specific types of operations to be carried out in the first stages of the Jihad on Drugs, which, if given the green light, shall occur in one broad sweep across America and the rest of the world. These tactics include, but are not limited to:

— Bombing actual physical drugs, drug users, and drug dealers, as well as those who harbor actual physical drugs, drug users, and drug dealers (we thought you would appreciate this touch)

— Raiding and pillaging so-called “cannabis clubs,” “hookah bars,” and “K-holes” (we admit we have not yet found any of these holes, but we are actively looking)

— Napalming suspected methamphetamine laboratories and, by default, the entire cities of San Bernardino and Hemet, California

— Complete denial of the 1960’s countercultural movement, as well as immediate removal of any written history of said movement

— Chemical warfare on the set of Weeds (or, barring that, permanent cancellation of the show)

— Water-torturing/electrocuting hip-hop “music” (if you want to call it that!)

— Hijacking and derailing of Cat Stevens’ Peace Train. (Everyone knows that where there are hippies, there are drugs. Furthermore, I hear the guy’s Muslim now; he may clue us in on its whereabouts)

— Forcing all male pharmacists (“legal drug dealers”) to wear emasculating pink ice-cream-cone insignias on their shirtsleeves

— Executing all female pharmacists (why the heck not?)

— And, of course, releasing swarms of aphids on commercial aircraft mid-flight (unbeknownst to crew and passengers), and then crashing said aircraft into suspected marijuana farms

As you can see, Mr. President, it is a tenacious attack plan with a high potential for success if properly executed.

The seemingly difficult question, we realize, is how we might successfully carry out a drug jihad of such grandeur and proportion without the aid of Islamic extremists, or mujahadin (or “strugglers,” if you want to be PC about it). But the answer is simple: We outsource.

People in these third-world countries evidently are starving for work — if the telecommunications industry is any example — and the wages are dirt-cheap. Furthermore, it should be obvious by now that we are in no shortage of Islamic struggler-extremist-people. (These guys are everywhere! Am I right?) With that being said, we should be able to assemble a team of Allah-praising, fanatical mujahadin in no time flat. As a bonus, there is a high likelihood that some of these fellows are still on the payroll.

Lastly, I bring to your attention the second prong of our proposed attack, whereby we shall vilify drugs and those associated with them (infidels) through an advertising blitzkrieg and media smear-campaign. Admittedly, this facet of the plan is still in its embryo stages, but here are a few ideas that have been floating around the office:

— Subliminal television images alternating between burning methamphetamine labs and disfigured babies

— Bringing back those “this is your brain on drugs” commercials, but with spooky Arabic chanting in the background

— A public beheading of Woody Harrelson

As for printed propaganda, we have also begun work on a nationwide billboard campaign, wherein every billboard in the United States will be commandeered in the name of the Jihad on Drugs, and painted over with anti-drug/pro-jihad directives such as:

— If you’re selling the Jah, you’re against Allah

— Death to American imperialist heroin addicts!

And, my personal favorite:

— Smoke speed, go to Hell

I don’t know about you, sir, but I am excited. As you can see, we have already invested considerable time and effort into developing our new strategy, one that we feel is practical and, most importantly, will work. For this reason, we at the Office of National Drug Control Policy strongly urge you to sign off on our proposal and allow us to begin our quest to rid the nation — indeed, the world — of drugs, drug dealers, and drug addicts.

God is great!

John P. Walters

Drug “Jihadist” (?), Office of National Drug Control Policy