Recently it seems that most of my journal entries are either about Barnes and Noble or college. I have tried to avoid this, but with very few things of interest to report (though today at work there was this crazy twitching muttering guy with blue goop running down his scalp), and my interest in national events waning (the Democratic National convention is too depressing to watch) I have caved in and decided to relate the following painfully absurd, Barnes and Noble related humor--
Julius- The touching story of an elephant who befriends a lonely hippo. Together they take on the Columbiandrug cartels,andlearn valuable lessonsabout friendship. Finnegan's Wake is a great book for children of every age.
Franny- A searing vision of America at the end of the 20th century, Frog and Toad are Friends burns in the mind for months after reading and leads the reader to question, "What would I do with a sack of gravy?"
Pedro- On the Down Low is the true story of Jesus's mud-wrestling match with Gandhi- a true clash of titans. A must read.
Scooter- What happens when two wacky divorees team up to get back at their ex's? Find out in Democracy in America by Alexis de Tocqueville!
Jen- The basis for the movie Dirty Dancing, Kant's Critique of Pure Reason is a steamy romance that's sure to pleez.
Jake- Can you really fit twelve Jesuit priests in a bathtub?! William Styron's Confessions of Nat Turner is a mad-cap farce extraordinaire!!
Sunday, July 25, 2004
Monday, July 19, 2004
Barnes and Noble CEO Steve Riggio Remains a Soulless Sack of Shit
Today at work I read another letter from Steve Riggio to the company at large. In it, Steve discussed a survey taken by the National Endowment for the Arts that found less than half the adult population of the United States reads literature, and that not only is the reading of literature on the decline, the rate of that decline is accelerating.
Having broken this news, Steve went on to pose an obvious question--
The obvious question is, "What does this mean to the future of our business?"
From a social perspective, there is much to be alarmed about. From a business perspective, however, we must recognize that there is a huge difference between the "industry of books" and the "culture of literacy."
Steve eased our minds; it turns out the decline of literature will not effect us much, since sales of the classics account for a mere 30% of our business. Furthermore, we no longer depend on books as our sole source of revenue. We also sell coffee, CDs and DVDs, and our growth in these areas should more than offset any drop in book sales. Steve told us that, rather than be sad about the death of Jane Austen and Thomas Hardy, dead now not merely physically but totally, we should feel good that we promote literacy merely by exisiting as a company, a company that will continue to sell Friends box sets when Huckleberry Finn is a faint memory.
Though the end of Shakespeare may be sad, economically it's not a big deal. So chin up, and keep promoting that Frappacino festival. Never forget that a venti size is the best value.
Having broken this news, Steve went on to pose an obvious question--
The obvious question is, "What does this mean to the future of our business?"
From a social perspective, there is much to be alarmed about. From a business perspective, however, we must recognize that there is a huge difference between the "industry of books" and the "culture of literacy."
Steve eased our minds; it turns out the decline of literature will not effect us much, since sales of the classics account for a mere 30% of our business. Furthermore, we no longer depend on books as our sole source of revenue. We also sell coffee, CDs and DVDs, and our growth in these areas should more than offset any drop in book sales. Steve told us that, rather than be sad about the death of Jane Austen and Thomas Hardy, dead now not merely physically but totally, we should feel good that we promote literacy merely by exisiting as a company, a company that will continue to sell Friends box sets when Huckleberry Finn is a faint memory.
Though the end of Shakespeare may be sad, economically it's not a big deal. So chin up, and keep promoting that Frappacino festival. Never forget that a venti size is the best value.
Wednesday, July 14, 2004
The Frugal Gourmet Cooks with Little Kids
When I was younger I went through a phase where I liked to cook. I baked brownies and cookies, and one pineapple upside-down cake of which I was very proud. I read the Southern Living Cookbook, and my parents gave me a Julia Child cookbook for Christmas, which I still use to cook porkchops.
I also watched cooking shows, the Frugal Gourmet in particular. I never cooked anything I saw prepared on the Frugal Gourmet, but I liked watching it; it was comforting. I liked the theme music, I liked the Frugal Gourmet's voice, I liked how he made bad jokes and ended every show by saying "God bless." He was always doing things like visiting Mount Vernon to see what George Washington used to eat, or going to meat markets in Little Italy and then calling the woman who owned the shop a "grand old gal." He was like my grandpa, only he was friendly and he cooked and he wasn't trying to make me go to VMI.
One day, when I was a senior in high school I was eating lunch in the upperclassmen courtyard with my friends, and for some reason I brought up the Frugal Gourmet. Maybe I was complaining that the show never came on anymore. Maybe I was reading The Frugal Gourmet Cooks with Wine and had it in my bookbag. I don't honestly remember why I brought it up, what I remember is how my friend Nick responded.
"Man, you know the Frugal Gourmet rapes little boys, right?"
"Fuck you, he does not."
"No Andrew, it's true," said my friend Kate. "I saw it on the news awhile ago. They never proved anything, but he settled out of court."
"That means he didn't do it! They never proved anything! He just wanted to get it over with, to avoid the negative publicity."
"He did a good job-- nobody talks about him at all now that his show was canceled." said Nick.
"I hate you all! No one understands me!" I shouted, and ran from the courtyard, sobbing.
This remained a sore subject for literally years, and well into college whenever it came up I would come to the Frugal Gourmet's aid.
"They never proved that."
"I think it's terrible that they took his show away."
"I'm still trying to find a copy of The Frugal Gourmet Cooks Italian."
No library seemed to have The Frugal Gourmet Cooks Italian, possibly because of the pederasty scandal, but my favorite episodes of the show had corresponded to that particular book. One day, in a used book store in Fredericksburg, I found a copy, and bought it quickly,as though some policeman might try to stop me.
"I'm sorry son, but that book's by a known kiddy-raper; you better hand it over."
When I got home I took my first real look at the cover. Looking out from it was a bald, pale-faced, chubby man with beady eyes, his mouth open in a ghastly sort of smile (a lot like the one Conan's announcer Joel Goddard always has). It was the face of someone who rapes little boys, and he was holding a glass of wine and shrugging, as if to say "Could you blame me?" I tried to forget the picture and move on to the introduction, but all I could think of was the Frugal Gourmet making an orgasm face while Handel played in the background. I put the book on the floor of my closet and covered it with dirty cloths.
I also watched cooking shows, the Frugal Gourmet in particular. I never cooked anything I saw prepared on the Frugal Gourmet, but I liked watching it; it was comforting. I liked the theme music, I liked the Frugal Gourmet's voice, I liked how he made bad jokes and ended every show by saying "God bless." He was always doing things like visiting Mount Vernon to see what George Washington used to eat, or going to meat markets in Little Italy and then calling the woman who owned the shop a "grand old gal." He was like my grandpa, only he was friendly and he cooked and he wasn't trying to make me go to VMI.
One day, when I was a senior in high school I was eating lunch in the upperclassmen courtyard with my friends, and for some reason I brought up the Frugal Gourmet. Maybe I was complaining that the show never came on anymore. Maybe I was reading The Frugal Gourmet Cooks with Wine and had it in my bookbag. I don't honestly remember why I brought it up, what I remember is how my friend Nick responded.
"Man, you know the Frugal Gourmet rapes little boys, right?"
"Fuck you, he does not."
"No Andrew, it's true," said my friend Kate. "I saw it on the news awhile ago. They never proved anything, but he settled out of court."
"That means he didn't do it! They never proved anything! He just wanted to get it over with, to avoid the negative publicity."
"He did a good job-- nobody talks about him at all now that his show was canceled." said Nick.
"I hate you all! No one understands me!" I shouted, and ran from the courtyard, sobbing.
This remained a sore subject for literally years, and well into college whenever it came up I would come to the Frugal Gourmet's aid.
"They never proved that."
"I think it's terrible that they took his show away."
"I'm still trying to find a copy of The Frugal Gourmet Cooks Italian."
No library seemed to have The Frugal Gourmet Cooks Italian, possibly because of the pederasty scandal, but my favorite episodes of the show had corresponded to that particular book. One day, in a used book store in Fredericksburg, I found a copy, and bought it quickly,as though some policeman might try to stop me.
"I'm sorry son, but that book's by a known kiddy-raper; you better hand it over."
When I got home I took my first real look at the cover. Looking out from it was a bald, pale-faced, chubby man with beady eyes, his mouth open in a ghastly sort of smile (a lot like the one Conan's announcer Joel Goddard always has). It was the face of someone who rapes little boys, and he was holding a glass of wine and shrugging, as if to say "Could you blame me?" I tried to forget the picture and move on to the introduction, but all I could think of was the Frugal Gourmet making an orgasm face while Handel played in the background. I put the book on the floor of my closet and covered it with dirty cloths.
Friday, July 09, 2004
I Send Another Letter to Another President
A few weeks ago Steve Riggio, Barnes and Noble President and CEO, issued a proclamation requesting that all Barnes and Noble employees e-mail him a list of the five words they think of when they think of Barnes and Noble. Everyone at work had a good laugh over it (my friend Jon said one of his words would be paycheck), and then, our fun had, we put it from our minds.
Last week Steve Riggio posted results. He said that the number one response had been "books", and that he was disappointed with our responses, or lack there of. He asked us to try again.
So last night I gave it a shot. Of course, I couldn't just send five words, I had to send more. And of course, I couldn't be courteous and respectful, I had to try to be funny. So I sent him the e-mail pasted below, and immediately afterwards began to fear for my job. What if Steve Riggio has no sense of humor? What if he makes my managers fire me? It would make a good story, but in the mean time I would be unemployed.
Maybe if they do fire me I'll finally get over my childhood fascination with Hawkeye Pierce. Maybe then at long last I'll be able to put aside my rebellious, wildman tendencies, stop spitting in the face of the man, and fly right.
Dear Steve,
Sorry I didn't respond the first time, I thought you were just being funny. When you followed up with a second request, I knew you were for real. Before I get to my words though, I have some questions for you:
1. How much do you make? I make $8.25 an hour. I know you're thinking, "Gee, that's below the poverty line!" You're right, it is, but I love being a bookseller too much to quit.
2. Can I have a job at home office? I'm really really smart, and I went to college.
3. Do you want to hang out with me? I like Madden Football. We could play together, only you have to promise to let me be the Colts--that's my team.
4. Do you know Rage Kindelsperger? That's an awesome name.
5. Isn't Barnes and Noble awesome? It's so cool to work there, I love it more than ice cream sandwiches.
And now, at long last, my words:
1. Pinochle (cause it's so much fun to work there, like playing a game of pinochle)
2. Quixotic (that means "idealistic to an irrational degree")
3. Profitable (for you monetarily, for me spiritually)
4. Flatulent (the coffee in the cafe makes me a little gassy)
5. Brown (self-explanatory)
I really like that you asked us to do this. You're the rockingest President ever.
Your buddy,
Andrew
Last week Steve Riggio posted results. He said that the number one response had been "books", and that he was disappointed with our responses, or lack there of. He asked us to try again.
So last night I gave it a shot. Of course, I couldn't just send five words, I had to send more. And of course, I couldn't be courteous and respectful, I had to try to be funny. So I sent him the e-mail pasted below, and immediately afterwards began to fear for my job. What if Steve Riggio has no sense of humor? What if he makes my managers fire me? It would make a good story, but in the mean time I would be unemployed.
Maybe if they do fire me I'll finally get over my childhood fascination with Hawkeye Pierce. Maybe then at long last I'll be able to put aside my rebellious, wildman tendencies, stop spitting in the face of the man, and fly right.
Dear Steve,
Sorry I didn't respond the first time, I thought you were just being funny. When you followed up with a second request, I knew you were for real. Before I get to my words though, I have some questions for you:
1. How much do you make? I make $8.25 an hour. I know you're thinking, "Gee, that's below the poverty line!" You're right, it is, but I love being a bookseller too much to quit.
2. Can I have a job at home office? I'm really really smart, and I went to college.
3. Do you want to hang out with me? I like Madden Football. We could play together, only you have to promise to let me be the Colts--that's my team.
4. Do you know Rage Kindelsperger? That's an awesome name.
5. Isn't Barnes and Noble awesome? It's so cool to work there, I love it more than ice cream sandwiches.
And now, at long last, my words:
1. Pinochle (cause it's so much fun to work there, like playing a game of pinochle)
2. Quixotic (that means "idealistic to an irrational degree")
3. Profitable (for you monetarily, for me spiritually)
4. Flatulent (the coffee in the cafe makes me a little gassy)
5. Brown (self-explanatory)
I really like that you asked us to do this. You're the rockingest President ever.
Your buddy,
Andrew
Sunday, July 04, 2004
Imaginary Football with John Madden and the Indianapolis Colts
The other day I was looking through other online journals, trying to find a design I liked and could steal, and I ran across a blog called Food Journal. A post for Food Journal looks something like this-
7/01
Today for breakfast I had a bagel with cream cheese and a glass of apple juice. At lunch I had a turkey sandwich on rye bread with mayo and swiss cheese, chips, and a coke. In the afternoon I drank two Saranac pale ales. For dinner I had macaroni and cheese, and two more Saranac pale ales. Man, look at all those carbs!
Aside from having an alcohol problem, this person is really boring. "Man," I thought on first reading it, "Thank God I'm not like that! Haha."
But then I thought, "What if I am boring? What if I think I'm really clever and entertaining, but I'm really as boring as this joker, and the main difference between us is that I don't know it? I mean at least this guy doesn't aspire to entertain and fail, right? Jesus, I need to aim lower!"
So I have decided to change my blog- from now on I will be boring on purpose. This blog will hereafter be a journal about Madden Football, and my efforts to take the Indianapolis Colts to the top. Here's a peek at what a post in Madden Journal will look like:
7/01
Today, when I used the "Ask Madden for a play call" feature, John Madden incited me to "Show the defense what a finely tuned machine [I am]." This seemed vaguely homoerotic to me, but I refused to let mild homophobia get the upper hand, and I won a great victory over the Minnesota Vikings, 31-6.
Speaking of John Madden-
Here's something I saved from McSweeney's last year about John Madden. I hope that you like it; I like to think if I really made my blog exclusively about football it might be half this funny:
Madden has officially lost it. Someone once patted him on the back about that six-legged turkey thing, and in the process created a monster. Like we're dying to hear a guy in his sixties pine over a lineman's belly for 24 minutes. Then out comes the electric crayon. Do
you think we'll hear these words come out of Madden's mouth by the end of the season?
That was a nice play. Ever make love to a cactus? Yeah, a cactus. You know, you're in the desert. It's lonesome. It's dark. You haven't had a decent piece of ass in weeks. You happen upon one, and heck, it's standing straight up, kinda like a person. Even has those things hangin' off, I'll call 'em arms. . . and you've been out there for so long, and you've got a firm erection, so you shower the cactus with compliments, then you set about the business of making love to it. I guess if there was a record player, there might be a little Paul Anka playing, and you dab on a little cologne. You just size up the cactus, and heck there may already be a hole somewhere on the thing, and you just gotta brush the prickles aside and get your hips up next to it and start rocking into it. I mean really kissing it, and pretty soon your schwantz is hangin' out and maybe former Steelers great Rocky Bleier drives by in an old rag-top Caddy, and he kinda slows down 'cause of the flare you fired off three hours ago when you got a flat, and at this point you don't even wanna be saved because you're really pluggin' away on the cactus. My only question is where do you deliver your load? You know? The climax? 'Cause you can't get the thing pregnant, there's no danger of that, although I'd really like to see a family of half people, half cacti running around, celebrating the holidays, but anyway, do you just let it run down the side of the thing and hope it either dries or provides some protein for a couple of buzzards or do you shoot it right into the cactus? My vote is for inside the damn thing. Heck, no fuss no muss.
7/01
Today for breakfast I had a bagel with cream cheese and a glass of apple juice. At lunch I had a turkey sandwich on rye bread with mayo and swiss cheese, chips, and a coke. In the afternoon I drank two Saranac pale ales. For dinner I had macaroni and cheese, and two more Saranac pale ales. Man, look at all those carbs!
Aside from having an alcohol problem, this person is really boring. "Man," I thought on first reading it, "Thank God I'm not like that! Haha."
But then I thought, "What if I am boring? What if I think I'm really clever and entertaining, but I'm really as boring as this joker, and the main difference between us is that I don't know it? I mean at least this guy doesn't aspire to entertain and fail, right? Jesus, I need to aim lower!"
So I have decided to change my blog- from now on I will be boring on purpose. This blog will hereafter be a journal about Madden Football, and my efforts to take the Indianapolis Colts to the top. Here's a peek at what a post in Madden Journal will look like:
7/01
Today, when I used the "Ask Madden for a play call" feature, John Madden incited me to "Show the defense what a finely tuned machine [I am]." This seemed vaguely homoerotic to me, but I refused to let mild homophobia get the upper hand, and I won a great victory over the Minnesota Vikings, 31-6.
Speaking of John Madden-
Here's something I saved from McSweeney's last year about John Madden. I hope that you like it; I like to think if I really made my blog exclusively about football it might be half this funny:
Madden has officially lost it. Someone once patted him on the back about that six-legged turkey thing, and in the process created a monster. Like we're dying to hear a guy in his sixties pine over a lineman's belly for 24 minutes. Then out comes the electric crayon. Do
you think we'll hear these words come out of Madden's mouth by the end of the season?
That was a nice play. Ever make love to a cactus? Yeah, a cactus. You know, you're in the desert. It's lonesome. It's dark. You haven't had a decent piece of ass in weeks. You happen upon one, and heck, it's standing straight up, kinda like a person. Even has those things hangin' off, I'll call 'em arms. . . and you've been out there for so long, and you've got a firm erection, so you shower the cactus with compliments, then you set about the business of making love to it. I guess if there was a record player, there might be a little Paul Anka playing, and you dab on a little cologne. You just size up the cactus, and heck there may already be a hole somewhere on the thing, and you just gotta brush the prickles aside and get your hips up next to it and start rocking into it. I mean really kissing it, and pretty soon your schwantz is hangin' out and maybe former Steelers great Rocky Bleier drives by in an old rag-top Caddy, and he kinda slows down 'cause of the flare you fired off three hours ago when you got a flat, and at this point you don't even wanna be saved because you're really pluggin' away on the cactus. My only question is where do you deliver your load? You know? The climax? 'Cause you can't get the thing pregnant, there's no danger of that, although I'd really like to see a family of half people, half cacti running around, celebrating the holidays, but anyway, do you just let it run down the side of the thing and hope it either dries or provides some protein for a couple of buzzards or do you shoot it right into the cactus? My vote is for inside the damn thing. Heck, no fuss no muss.
Thursday, July 01, 2004
Stacy, the Community Relations Manager
Most Barnes and Noble Bookstore's have a Community Relations Manager; at my store her name is Stacy. When authors come to our store for signings, she organizes the event, publicizes the event, and gives the author an introduction:
"Hello everyone! Today we are happy to welcome the author of 'Loose Your Booty,' let's hear it for Dr. Ro!"
Every week she hosts story time, and spends an hour reading books to little children, always in an impossibly loud and condescending manner:
"HELLO BOYS AND GIRLS! HOW ARE YOU? I DON'T HEAR YOU!!!!! OKAY! TODAY WE"RE GOING TO READ SPOT GOES TO THE ZOO!!! HOORAY!"
I don't know Stacy very well, but she seems like a nice person; smiles a lot, always acts like she's in a good mood. She is polite, and listens to Josh Groban, and dyes her hair blonde. Many people describe her as being attractive, and while I personally don't think so, I can understand where they are coming from.
(One time I was at Ukrop's, and I ran into a clerk there named Thom. Thom is a really nice guy, a little slow, but a good person, always genuinely interested in what I am doing with myself.
"So what are you up to these days, Andrew?" asked Thom in his deep bass voice.
"Oh nothing much, I just transferred to a new store, the one on Broad Street."
"That's good, that's good. Say, do you know a woman there named Stacy?"
"Uh, yeah, she's the Community Relations Manager."
"Yeah. One time I was at that store with my nephew for story time. She's a really cool girl."
"Yeah, she seems nice."
"Easy on the eyes too, haha.")
So that's Stacy, bland but nice.
Today, I passed Stacy on my way into work and asked how she was.
"Hey Stacy, how's it going?"
"Oh, hey Bubba," she said.
And I punched her in the throat.
"Hello everyone! Today we are happy to welcome the author of 'Loose Your Booty,' let's hear it for Dr. Ro!"
Every week she hosts story time, and spends an hour reading books to little children, always in an impossibly loud and condescending manner:
"HELLO BOYS AND GIRLS! HOW ARE YOU? I DON'T HEAR YOU!!!!! OKAY! TODAY WE"RE GOING TO READ SPOT GOES TO THE ZOO!!! HOORAY!"
I don't know Stacy very well, but she seems like a nice person; smiles a lot, always acts like she's in a good mood. She is polite, and listens to Josh Groban, and dyes her hair blonde. Many people describe her as being attractive, and while I personally don't think so, I can understand where they are coming from.
(One time I was at Ukrop's, and I ran into a clerk there named Thom. Thom is a really nice guy, a little slow, but a good person, always genuinely interested in what I am doing with myself.
"So what are you up to these days, Andrew?" asked Thom in his deep bass voice.
"Oh nothing much, I just transferred to a new store, the one on Broad Street."
"That's good, that's good. Say, do you know a woman there named Stacy?"
"Uh, yeah, she's the Community Relations Manager."
"Yeah. One time I was at that store with my nephew for story time. She's a really cool girl."
"Yeah, she seems nice."
"Easy on the eyes too, haha.")
So that's Stacy, bland but nice.
Today, I passed Stacy on my way into work and asked how she was.
"Hey Stacy, how's it going?"
"Oh, hey Bubba," she said.
And I punched her in the throat.
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