inquiries into irrelevancies
A survey With Sam
Body:
*WHO?*
who was the last person you talked to on the phone? An imbecilic, ungrateful, arrogant beyond the bound of reason 84-year-old woman from Minnesota who’s hell bent on wrecking my phenomenal EBAY rating due to the late arrival of two Laurel and Hardy DVDS. My attempts to bribe her with additional RARE and virtually unavailable video copies of that delightful duo’s earlier work, free of charge, was rebuffed and rebuked putting me in the throes of a vicious bout of consternation, as my impeccable, COMPLETELY unblemished score streak appears to now be nearing its all too soon conclusion.
who was the last person you talked to in person? That would be a former stellar student of mine from several years ago, and lox spreader extraordinaire Giovanni Barone at the esteemed Garden Bagel. He vigorously supported my contention that Spielberg’s War of the Worlds is the most awe-inspiring and emotionally shattering science fiction film of the last twenty years.
who was the last person you talked to online? That rapscallion of the utmost magnitude and unrepentant charlatan Dennis who yet again attempted to bait me into a trite superlative spewing pissing contest regarding his “out-of-left-field” and completely unsupported by the critical establishment claims that the latest Star Wars picture surpassed the Spielberg on every level. This is a man who once proclaimed George Michael to be a superior songwriter to Elton John, though, so you can imagine the fractured logic with which this demented man-child reckons with the world at large on a day-to-day basis.
who was the last person you hung out with? Despite the fervent pleas of both my wife, children and virtually every human being I’ve ever had any sort of relationship with, I hung out with the most loathed and despised human being I’ve ever encountered, my personal fungal-like cross-to-bear, the tooth-sucking sinus gurgling gargantuan known as Sebastian T. Quagmire, aka “JACK.” In my desperate attempt to rally support for the Spielberg picture I extended the olive branch to this man yet again, reaching into my own pocket for both the admission fee and large popcorn (which he refused on the surface, but the desperate longing in his eyes “played another tune”) where I participated in my SEVENTH theatrical showing of the film. Sebastian attempted to undermine the film with his well documented needless contrary posturing, as the ever-sensitive newly reformed pro-semite remarked that he was uncomfortable with some of the holocaust imagery used in the film. Those fears were squelched immediately, however, when I reminded him that this is the same Steven Spielberg who directed the NUMBER ONE FILM of the nineties, Schindler’s List. After receiving his much-deserved comeuppance for this nearly unforgivable clerical oversight Sebastian unabashedly and unanimously voiced his support of my review of the film.
who was the last person you had sex with? The audacity to so casually ask such a potentially incriminating question baffles me, as if you’d be so dim-witted to expect anyone who had anything to hide to answer this inquiry truthfully. Let alone its overall insignificance and furthering of this society’s base fascination with lascivious activities and proclivities (a LIFE-LONG OBSESSION for that moronic, misguided Lucas worshipper Dennis). Nevertheless, since I agreed and endorsed this poll with my initial participation, I will acquiesce in the name of “good-sportsmanship” and tell you that it was my lovely, more than I or any other person deserves wife, last week late on the night of Fourth of July after witnessing the most riveting and brilliant firework display I’ve ever seen in my life in Ridgefield.
who was the last person you danced with? Despite being a massive and obsessive fan of music, with tastes ranging from classical and opera to modern favorite like The Doors and Paul Simon, I was a bit of a late bloomer growing up which caused me to miss out on the proverbial adolescent rites of passage such as school dances and parties. I’m ashamed and dismayed to admit that the only activity of this sort I can recall participating in occurred 12 years ago, during the obligatory dance to our wedding song, “Nights in White Satin” by the critically over-looked and under appreciated rock band The Moody Blues.
Body:
*WHO?*
who was the last person you talked to on the phone? An imbecilic, ungrateful, arrogant beyond the bound of reason 84-year-old woman from Minnesota who’s hell bent on wrecking my phenomenal EBAY rating due to the late arrival of two Laurel and Hardy DVDS. My attempts to bribe her with additional RARE and virtually unavailable video copies of that delightful duo’s earlier work, free of charge, was rebuffed and rebuked putting me in the throes of a vicious bout of consternation, as my impeccable, COMPLETELY unblemished score streak appears to now be nearing its all too soon conclusion.
who was the last person you talked to in person? That would be a former stellar student of mine from several years ago, and lox spreader extraordinaire Giovanni Barone at the esteemed Garden Bagel. He vigorously supported my contention that Spielberg’s War of the Worlds is the most awe-inspiring and emotionally shattering science fiction film of the last twenty years.
who was the last person you talked to online? That rapscallion of the utmost magnitude and unrepentant charlatan Dennis who yet again attempted to bait me into a trite superlative spewing pissing contest regarding his “out-of-left-field” and completely unsupported by the critical establishment claims that the latest Star Wars picture surpassed the Spielberg on every level. This is a man who once proclaimed George Michael to be a superior songwriter to Elton John, though, so you can imagine the fractured logic with which this demented man-child reckons with the world at large on a day-to-day basis.
who was the last person you hung out with? Despite the fervent pleas of both my wife, children and virtually every human being I’ve ever had any sort of relationship with, I hung out with the most loathed and despised human being I’ve ever encountered, my personal fungal-like cross-to-bear, the tooth-sucking sinus gurgling gargantuan known as Sebastian T. Quagmire, aka “JACK.” In my desperate attempt to rally support for the Spielberg picture I extended the olive branch to this man yet again, reaching into my own pocket for both the admission fee and large popcorn (which he refused on the surface, but the desperate longing in his eyes “played another tune”) where I participated in my SEVENTH theatrical showing of the film. Sebastian attempted to undermine the film with his well documented needless contrary posturing, as the ever-sensitive newly reformed pro-semite remarked that he was uncomfortable with some of the holocaust imagery used in the film. Those fears were squelched immediately, however, when I reminded him that this is the same Steven Spielberg who directed the NUMBER ONE FILM of the nineties, Schindler’s List. After receiving his much-deserved comeuppance for this nearly unforgivable clerical oversight Sebastian unabashedly and unanimously voiced his support of my review of the film.
who was the last person you had sex with? The audacity to so casually ask such a potentially incriminating question baffles me, as if you’d be so dim-witted to expect anyone who had anything to hide to answer this inquiry truthfully. Let alone its overall insignificance and furthering of this society’s base fascination with lascivious activities and proclivities (a LIFE-LONG OBSESSION for that moronic, misguided Lucas worshipper Dennis). Nevertheless, since I agreed and endorsed this poll with my initial participation, I will acquiesce in the name of “good-sportsmanship” and tell you that it was my lovely, more than I or any other person deserves wife, last week late on the night of Fourth of July after witnessing the most riveting and brilliant firework display I’ve ever seen in my life in Ridgefield.
who was the last person you danced with? Despite being a massive and obsessive fan of music, with tastes ranging from classical and opera to modern favorite like The Doors and Paul Simon, I was a bit of a late bloomer growing up which caused me to miss out on the proverbial adolescent rites of passage such as school dances and parties. I’m ashamed and dismayed to admit that the only activity of this sort I can recall participating in occurred 12 years ago, during the obligatory dance to our wedding song, “Nights in White Satin” by the critically over-looked and under appreciated rock band The Moody Blues.