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Friday, April 26, 2002
hi del.
thanks for your honest and what i can only assume to be plagiarized response. i was hoping to get up to new york some time this summer. as i have the mcsweeneys address, i'd like to drop in and maybe volunteer some hours in helping you sift through the bulk of all those submissions. perhaps afterwards you'd give me five minutes out of your busy schedule to tell me how my writing could improve to the level of, say, an underpaid copyright clerk such as yourself. a bold task to be sure. but i'm certain you'll be up to it del.
humbly,
josh magnuson
Hi,
Thank you for submitting your writing to McSweeney's. I'm reading submissions for the magazine and website and so recently had the opportunity to read your work. I'm sorry to say it isn't right for McSweeney's, and unfortunately, the number of submissions that are coming in now makes it difficult to respond more specifically.
I thank you for your interest in McSweeney's.
Del
Wednesday, April 24, 2002
some things i noticed today
a squirrel got run over by this truck right in front of me. it was making a mad dash across the street and stopped almost directly underneath the truck. it hooked right, then banked left and the back tire of the truck clipped its head. it bounced about 3 feet in the air and landed directly in front of my passenger side tire. so i basically killed a squirrel.
the exit that everyone uses to get out of the parking lot at work has a sign in the grass to the left. it reads "this is not an exit." i must have passed this sign at least 50 times and today is the first day that i actually noticed it. the funny thing is that this is the only way to get out of our parking lot. i joked with a co-worker about it and he said, "no, there's another exit, but it's around the other side and you don't get out onto the same road. in fact, you end up having to do a u-turn to get back onto that road there." how is that an exit?
you can write on people's computer screens with the dry-erase board markers and it will come off. one of my co-workers wrote a big red f next to something i had written. he thought that was funny. like he was grading my work. i can now think of a bazillion things to write on people's computer screens. i mean think about using your co-worker's computer screens as miniature white boards. to-do lists. knock knock jokes. man. i'm gonna have some fun with this one.
as could be reasonably expected and contrary to my own personal beliefs, i do not have turberculosis. this was confirmed by my doctor today. she said that my ongoing cough and congestion are either a) allergies, b) lingering bronchitis, c) some sort of viral infection or d) the fact that we have 2 kids and i'm surrounded by a swarm of germs that could only otherwise be found in equatorial africa. i opt for d), but am suspicious and accept her offer of antibiotics.
the clerk at the convenience store had a tiny tattoo on her hand. upon closer inspection, it turned out to be a pokemon peel-off. she also had a bandaid on her left thumb which was loose and flapping around. i was buying a turkey sandwhich. she said "that's a damn expensive sandwhich." it was $2.99.
the albertson's grocery store near my work has everything that could be found in all the shops in arkansas combined. and then some. i'm amazed. it's an uber grocery store. they have a bank. a little seattle's best coffee shop. a bagelry. they have 3 aisles dedicated to wine and beer. 500 different breads. 20 different types of tomato. i remember reading an account of boris yeltsin going into a grocery store somewhere in the midwest with president bush. he was terrified by the vastness and complexity of this average american grocery store. so am i. i mean, is it me or are these things getting to be the size of basketball arenas? at any rate, i just went in to use the bathroom.
Tuesday, April 23, 2002
out of the "enron has made me suspicious that all corporations are evil" dept:
i was reading this wall st. journal article (no, i can't link to it b/c i can't freakin' find it online and plus you'd have to pay to see it anyway) about this little known practice that big corporations have. they take out life insurance on their employees. without the employee's consent. or knowledge. this reporter told the story of a guy who worked for camelot music at a mall. he died of AIDS a few month's back and camelot collected $200,000. none of that went to his family or anyone other than camelot. now HOW IN THE FUCK CAN THIS BE LEGAL? the article went on to cite several big companies that do this. some sort of arcane law that used to be reserved only for company officers (ceo's and vp's), but now is primarily used by companies to a) borrow against and b) collect on any untimely deaths. they even have a name for this. they call it the DEAD PEASANT'S FUND. i'm not joking. so we've come to this point in our corporate-soaked culture where employees literally are worth more dead than alive. why do i feel like i'm in the parallax view?
Saturday, April 13, 2002
guilty gratuitious pleasure #356: oprah bashing
Saturday, April 06, 2002
we went to the children's museum for thomas' birthday. we invited his entire class of about 8 kids, but only 1 little girl showed up from the class. his cousins showed up too, but that's not the same. he took it well. i, of course, felt like saving the party packs and handing them out to thomas' class on monday. here's you're fruity party paks ya' little shits. i mean, c'mon parents. one parent called to say that her son had a baseball game that she forgot about. a 5 yr. old kid and he can't miss a baseball game. great. bring 'em up to respect organized bullshit. i've said this before, but neil postman was right about the disappearance of childhood. when you have a GAME for KIDS being organized like it's an adult event, you're pretty much in the deep end folks. remember the sand lot? pick-up games? i'm pissed of course. everyone has a right to miss my son's 5th birthday party. i just don't have to like it.
but back to the party. everyone played and ate cake. it was a sponge bob theme. thomas got quite a few hot wheels doo-dads and a walkie talkie set. to tell the truth, i just chased everyone around. william. thomas. madison. mason. every once in awhile i would look up and catch another parent's roaming eye. we'd both give a little helpless, shit-eating grin and move on. ah life.
i like the children's museum, but damn, it feels small for a dell offering. and there are something close to 30 "helpers" who do nothing but stand around like the overprivileged teenagers that they are; smacking on gum and snickering at me tripping over some damn exhibit. where were these jobs when i was a teenager? jesus.
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