I always get my jokes down on pieces of paper right away—backs of matchboxes, whatever. No one is allowed to throw a piece of paper out in my house, because on the back of a laundry list there may be a joke.
Jokes are important! And so was Joan Rivers. Rest in peace.
Ryes and ‘shine!
Anyway, I need a better transitional phrase.
"Okay, this one’s for them. People seem to love this ‘dumb blonde’ racket on Newlyweds, so let’s just embrace it. Tis the season, right? So…how about we misspell ‘rejoice’ in the title? They’ll eat that up. Actually, let’s really lean into this. Capitalize the ‘J’, too. That’s even worse. Oh, and you might as well forget about the colon after ‘ReJoyce’ while you’re at it. No need for this to be grammatically correct.”
"Okay, one more for them. But seriously…7-Eleven? I didn’t know they even sold music. Where do they stock the CDs, behind the Cool Ranch Taquitos and off-off-brand batteries? Disgusting. Could we seriously not get Starbucks or something?
…Wait, you’re telling me that it’s the year 2004 and Starbucks doesn’t sell music? Not at all? God, what a missed opportunity. I mean, digital sales are probably another six years—minimum—from really taking off, so people are definitely still buying compact discs. And it’s probably another couple of years before technology expedites the retail checkout process in any noticeably significant way. Factor in the time it takes for your average, blockheaded barista to not only make your triple, venti, half-caff, soy macci-I-don’t-know-what, but to also drizzle a perfect herringbone masterpiece of non-fat caramel on top of it…
Bottom line is that these trend-chasing zombies are spending plenty of time in front of the Starbucks cashier—their wallets and mouths agape. And what do I always say, Nick? Time. Is. Money. And Starbucks is wasting time. I mean, this is Babytown Frolics. You find an artist whose image and music reinforces your brand, exclusively license an album from that artist, play that album in your store all goddamn day, and then sell that album at the register to the sheep who have just now listened the entire thing while waiting in line for their daily caffeine fix!
Not only are you generating some solid point of purchase sales from all of this, but you’re simultaneously diversifying your business and consumer base. As a matter of fact, it’s not even business—it’s goddamn common sense. And what do I always say, Nick? What do I always say? That’s right. If you don’t have sense, you don’t make cents.
Now what the hell were we just talking about?”
Six years later
"At long last…one for me. The original title was "Jessica Simpson’s Explicit Christmas," but I decided to change it to something more innocuous so I could maintain the element of surprise. Ten Christmas classics with all the cussing you never knew you were missing. Reindeer? No. This is profane, dear. Merry f*cking Christmas, ya filthy animals."