The Defector

Voice: As an unlikely defector from a free and prosperous country, Elgin Forrest Grimsby stood out in the eyes of the politically oppressed girls of his new homeland. And he liked to propose to them over dinner. (Cold War Smolensk. After a family dinner with her relatives, Grimsby finds the courage to discreetly propose to Nadia.) Grimsby: What do you say, Nadia? Will you make me the happiest man in the whole wide world? Nadia: Marry you? (She laughs mercilessly.) You? Did you think I would be attracted to you just because you're a foreigner? Why did you need to come here? What is America doing? Shipping us their undesirables? Why don't you go home? Voice: It took a few months to heal from Nadia's rejection, but then a friend introduced Grimsby to Sonia. (A restaurant. Grimsby leans forward and whispers into his dinner date's ear.) Sonia: Marry you? Did you think we had a relationship? (She bursts out in cruel laughter.) Marry you? Why, I wouldn't even sleep with you! You only speak baby Russian and my English professor says even your English is poor. What are you, some kind of American riffraff? Why don't you go home? Voice: Sonia's answer was crushing, but then Grimsby's employer hired the charming Petunia. (A workplace cafeteria. Grimsby leans forward and whispers into Petunia's ear.) Petunia: Marry you? (She laughs.) Hey, everyone! Grimsby wants to marry me! He must be in love with me! (Hoots and catcalls.) The only American in the U.S.S.R. without a car wants to marry me! What did I do to deserve this honor? Grimsby: Stop it, Petunia! Stop it or I swear I'll fucking kill someone! Petunia: Kill someone? A failure like you? You couldn't even kill yourself. Voice: Drawn from thousands of hours of KGB surveillance tapes, the Defector delivers the ultimate Cold War romance.
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Execute Repeat Offenders

Hello, everyone! Here I am, still at the Vancouver Public Library, across from the CBC building, to share yet another gripe which has not been sufficiently covered by my previous posts. This one was necessitated by my recent knowledge of how 'they tried to steal your songs'. So they tried to steal my songs? Why? Why did they try to steal my songs, CBC? I'm not on your precious network, like those creeps your George Strombopoulos supported with my music. You know the creeps I'm talking about, right, CBC? Those creeps who cruised around in their limousine and used it to play pranks on me and to act like juvenile assholes in complete privacy; the limousine that I would have used to simply escape the rude dismissal by every decent person who comes within range of me on the street as some sort of lingering eyesore. Yeah, that limousine. It was the limousine that cruised by and swept up little Roxanna when she was still a very young girl and introduced her to the pleasures of crack smoking, by all accounts. Your own TV host supported this. Hell, he practically made it happen. And what happened when her false idol went to prison and ran out of money? Well, she must have been left with a terrible withdrawal. And there was me on the internet, posting popular songs that your network ignores from embarrassment so that they collect dust and drive her to the act of selling them behind my back. Remember how in 2012 she 'lied for every song they wanted'? I sure do. What a nightmare. You'd think that to suffer one such rape would be enough, but here I am now, three years later, realizing that most of the unbearable pressure I have suffered in the past week or so, which has caused me to break down and scream aloud as I walk down the street, was brought on by the repeat offense of the rape of my online music, very probably by the same person[s]. And do you know what my co tenant calls Tina Fey? He calls her the Tina Fey. He didn't believe me when I told him that Tina Fey, in her position as 'head writer' for Saturday Night Live from 2007 to 2010, filled her show with hundreds of my scripts from my erased 1999-2007 Blogger account. CBC, here is a list of the ones I caught them stealing with my own eyes. Have you read it yet? Sorry if I mixed up their show with a few other shows that stole my scripts. Bait Bikes - stolen by SNL Bronson Harley: Portrait of a Badass - stolen by TV - SNL? Cosmic Christ, the - stolen by TV - SNL? Don't Destroy the Kitchen - stolen by SNL Idiot Stu-dent, the - stolen by SNL One Thin Grocer - stolen by SNL Shorn Testimony - stolen by SNL Epilogue: Sneak Peek at My Unpublished Book - stolen by Dennis Miller Thelma Addison's Confusion - stolen by SNL The Masked Coward - stolen by SNL Tyranny - stolen by SNL The Hennessy - stolen by SNL The Planet of the Grapes - stolen by SNL The Whoopin of Chet Turtleback - stolen by SNL The Racoon - stolen by SNL The Burning Sun - stolen by SNL Silent Night on the Western Front - stolen by SNL Patterns of Behaviour - concept stolen by SNL Chester Windmill Presents - stolen by SNL Economics Made Simple - stolen by SNL The Search for Blue November - stolen by SNL Ears Wide Open - stolen by SNL Bullscent Artificial Air Freshener - stolen by SNL Minstrel At Arms - stolen by SNL Blindsighted Justice - stolen by SNL The Flying Peacocks - stolen by SNL 'The Rake' Oral Apparatus - stolen by SNL Orangatang Flavour Crystals - stolen by SNL The Girls of Nightcast - stolen by SNL Nightcast: September 22, 2012 - stolen by SNL Pussy Willow - stolen by SNL Nightcast: September 15, 2012 - stolen by SNL War Story: All's Fair in Love and War - stolen by SNL Nightcast: September 8, 2012 - stolen by SNL It's Unibrow! (Again) - words and/or concept stolen by SNL Match Against Machine - stolen by SNL It's Unibrow! (Episode Four: Blast in Space) - stolen by SNL The Lost Fight - stolen by SNL Ahead of Their Time: Louis Bombardier (1742-1789) - stolen by SNL Classic Flicks: Portrait of the Scientist... - stolen by SNL History's Mysteries: Nadia Stalin - stolen by SNL Meddlin' Mom - stolen by SNL Nurse Sheridan - stolen by SNL Classic Flicks: My Fair Hillbilly - stolen by SNL Pick-Me-Up Decaffeinated Coffee - stolen by SNL Mystery Movie: Turtleneck: The Vanishing Casino - concept stolen by SNL Monday Night at the Movies: The Pilferer - stolen by SNL 'The Fishbowl' Smoker's Helmet - stolen by SNL It's Unibrow! - stolen by SNL 'Whiff' Insect Repellant for Men - stolen by SNL The Lazar Razor - stolen by SNL Mystery Movie: Turtleneck: Casino Heist - concept stolen by SNL 'The Shot' Wall Syringe - stolen by SNL Metaphysical Fitness - stolen by SNL Vote for Willie - stolen by SNL 'Void' Depressurizing Gum stolen by SNL? Bigger than the Host - stolen by SNL Jesus of Vancouver/Canadian Film Festival - stolen by SNL Professional Wisecracker - stolen by SNL Stark Raving Mad TV - stolen by SNL Running on Air - stolen by SNL Not Without My Money - stolen by SNL The Dealer (The Collector) - stolen by SNL Man of His Dreams - stolen by SNL The Sling - stolen by SNL End Quote - stolen by SNL (Don't Steal Show 1) Episode 1 - Windox - stolen by SNL Episode 3 - Securiguard Home Security - stolen by SNL Episode 4 - Dynamo 5000 Air Gun - stolen by SNL Episode 5 - Pottypants - stolen by SNL Episode 6 - Soundproof Suicide Prevention - stolen by SNL Episode 7 - Max-Mix Protein Powder - stolen by SNL Episode 8 - Spellbound Spell Checker - stolen by SNL? Episode 9 - Gas-in-a-Stick Man Repellant - stolen by SNL Episode 10 - Immobiline Paralyzing Cream - stolen by SNL Episode 11 - Pro-Rate Reputation Salvation - stolen by SNL Episode 12 - Angel of Stealth Kite - stolen by SNL Episode 13 - Zit Zapper - stolen by SNL? Episode 14 - Equine Velvet Aftershave - stolen by SNL Episode 15 - Work-Mate Brand Replicants - stolen by SNL Episode 16 - Jizz Jar - stolen by SNL Episode 17 - Breathe Easy - stolen by SNL Episode 18 - Cart-in-a-Car - stolen by SNL Episode 19 - The Rocket Self-Playing Guitar - stolen by SNL Episode 20 - A-WEL Artists Weight Loss Plan - stolen by SNL? Episode 21 - Slobber Guard - stolen by SNL Siren Siren - stolen by SNL Atomic Self-Heating Soup - stolen by SNL Episode 22 - Econoflush Food Recycler - stolen by SNL Episode 23 - Vengisil Irritating Powder - stolen by SNL Episode 24 - Primetime Polly - stolen by SNL Episode 25 - The Mask - stolen by SNL Episode 27 - Save Dave 2 - Protest - stolen by SNL Episode 28 - Save Dave 3 - Bad Venues - stolen by SNL Episode 29 - Save Dave 4 - Divine Punishment - stolen by SNL Episode 30 - Save Dave 5 - Pizza - stolen by SNL (Don't Steal Show 2) Episode 2 - Bloodfist Interactive Video Game - stolen by SNL Episode 3 - The Church of the Branch Sectarians - stolen by SNL Episode 4 - Do-It-Yourself Lawyer - stolen by SNL? Episode 5 - The Hot Seat - stolen by SNL Episode 6 - Yum Yum Sugar Sauce - stolen by SNL Episode 7 - Tasty Pastries - stolen by SNL Episode 9 - Shortcut Guide to Success - stolen by SNL Love or Money - stolen by SNL Top Stories 1 - stolen by SNL Campfire Rock - stolen by SNL The Straight-Blanket - stolen by SNL Top Stories 2 - stolen by SNL The Insomniac - stolen by SNL Gold Rush 2013 - stolen by SNL Top Story - stolen by SNL The Driver - stolen by SNL The Dating Game - stolen by SNL The Greed Game - stolen by SNL Top Stories 3 - stolen by SNL The Blame Game - stolen by SNL Update: War in the Bermuda Triangle - stolen by SNL Top Stories 4 - stolen by SNL The Bermuda Triangle War - stolen by SNL Top Stories 5 - stolen by SNL Treachery! - stolen by SNL Concentration 'X' - stolen by SNL Nightcast: March 18, 2013 - stolen by SNL North American Rebel: Behind the Scenes - stolen by SNL The Assistant - stolen by SNL Nightcast: Top Stories - stolen by SNL The Job Lovers Club - stolen by SNL The Cutting Room - stolen by SNL Pestilence Anti-Pest Pellets - stolen by SNL The Vanity Mirrors - stolen by SNL Dead Reckoning - stolen by SNL Enemy Agent - stolen by SNL Celebrity Roundup - stolen by SNL Top Stories 6 - stolen by SNL Top Stories 7 - stolen by SNL The Red Menace - stolen by SNL The Monarch - stolen by SNL Flames of Compassion - stolen by SNL The Space Suit - stolen by SNL Life Shavers - stolen by SNL Around the Corner (Public Service Ad) - stolen by SNL Don't Break the Kitchen - stolen by SNL The Convex Corrective Silkscreen Solution - stolen by SNL The Multi-Gadge - stolen by SNL Family Feudalism - stolen by SNL Henderson Mayfield: Hoot Snatcher - stolen by SNL Film School Preppie - stolen by SNL The Local Banter - stolen by SNL The Police Police - stolen by SNL Gentrification - stolen by SNL A Day in the Afterlife - stolen by SNL Jamie Jong: Outlaw Landlord - stolen by SNL Movie of the Week: Clarra Claptrap - stolen by SNL The Life of Martin, Word Inventor - stolen by SNL (Poems) Charlotte Harlequin - stolen by SNL Entropy's Date - stolen by SNL False Prophet, the - stolen by SNL First Unholy Roman Emperor, the - stolen by SNL Iniquia - stolen by SNL Marnie Blarneystone - stolen by SNL Mistress Nemesis - stolen by SNL Puritan, the - stolen by SNL Queen Frig - stolen by SNL Redeemer, the - stolen by SNL Restless One, the - stolen by SNL Rosemary Jones - stolen by SNL Vindictive, the - stolen by SNL Widower, the - stolen by SNL or possibly Ellen Degeneres How's that for a repeat offense? Pretty brutal, wouldn't you say? Maybe that's the whole idea. I wonder what a judge will think. Yes, I heard that SNL's Davelies was back up today. I would suggest that the most astute lawyers download it as evidence for an imminent defamation lawsuit before it disappears again. CBC, I just know that if these rapes of my music and comedy were happening repeatedly to your wives and children instead, a permanent solution to this would be found instantly. And you would want to use your influence to bring the public on your side against such monsters. But when I'm the victim of countless rapes, you leave me to report it in this account by myself, as though it were only my word against the offenders'. I think that's pretty hypocritical and sadistic. (And I might apply the same logic to anyone else out there who is in a position to help me recover my image.) You are really expecting too much to let a gang of vicious creeps kick the shit out of me year after year like this and then leave me to fight back on my own. Is this the price I pay for not wanting to beg you for help? My talent wasn't enough for you? It was enough for all those millions of web followers who you let your fraud friends trick into thinking I was a child molesting fraud. How disappointed the world would be with you now if you only had the courage to tell the truth about your own faults. On the other hand, such an act would certainly win our trust. Oh, hey, CBC, don't worry, no one will read this entry today because I'm not on CBC! Wednesday May 27, 2015 (7:52 am) Well, no one showed up to drag me off and hang me upside down last night. Is it because one of your gullible viewers told them that I was incarcerated while I sat there in public for over an hour and typed in my latest entry to this account? That's what a lot of your supporters tell the world about me and I really think it stinks. But I will be sporting about this. If you want to convince people that I am lying about the Tina Fey, why don't you track her down and ask her who wrote these works? Go ahead and track her down after I said she went to prison in 2013 and then had to hear my co tenant call me a liar just two days ago for saying she ripped me off. Go ahead. That would convince everyone. Otherwise, don't let people think I'm incarcerated when I'm not. No one deserves that, least of all, me.
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Extreme Irony

Here's a script I first wrote and shared after my effective criticism of the war on terror in 2007, instructing brave Americans to fight terrorism by simply not being afraid, apparently forced the U.S. government to adopt the new term 'extremist' to identify its phantom enemy for its otherwise pointlessly overdeveloped arms industry. It is meant more to show how a policy of anti-extremism conflicts with the U.S. government's post Puritan tradition of tolerance than it is meant for laughs. But you wouldn't think so if it was hacked by a Pentagon controlled network like NBC. In that event, the laughs which I aimed at power would end up being criminally turned back against me. And why do strangers in the street greet me with the words 'that's your hit'? Is there some new confusion about who authored my songs to add to the eight years of constant confusion around every song and cartoon and word I have shared on the internet in my lifetime? It wouldn't surprise me. (Plymouth Rock circa 1620. A Puritan minister addresses a crowd of newly arrived settlers.) Minister: Welcome, brothers and sisters, to the glorious New World! I know that many of you have suffered terrible punishments at the hands of a brutal and intolerant government. Perhaps you were whipped or beaten. Perhaps your loved ones were drowned or torn to pieces and fed to dogs. Such horrors will not befall you here in this land of fairness. No, instead they will befall anyone who disagrees with you! (The crowd cheers.) (Present day. An auditorium. A politician addresses a crowd of concerned citizens.) Politician: My fellow Americans, I must once again call your attention to the greatest threat to our freedom in the modern age: extremism. It is for your own protection that we spend billions of your tax dollars on increased security. Only by spying on you and by imposing strip searches on women and by destroying free thinking artists on the internet can we guard against extremist infiltration. And only by reducing your constitutional rights can we stop extremists from overrunning our time honored institutions and sparking a bloody revolution. I will now avail myself to your questions. Yes, you in the white shirt. Citizen 1: Thank you. I speak on behalf of the Church of Paleontology. What sort of measures have been taken to keep our dinosaur fossils out of extremist hands? Politician: Dinosaur fossils? Citizen 1: Yes, aren't you concerned about the destructive potential of such powerful holy relics? Politician: Oh, uh sure! We'll see that all excavations are overseen by a detachment of state troopers. Next question. Yes, you in the shiny hat. Citizen 2: Sir, I belong to UFO, the Unearthly Friendship Organization. How will this anti-extremism affect the welfare of visitors from the fifth dimension? Politician: Uh, I'm not sure. I'll have a physicist look into that for you. Any other questions? Yes? Citizen 3: Mister Politician, I speak for the paramilitary division of MOMA, the Mongolian Muslims of America. Have you received the notice we nailed to the front door of the Pentagon last week demanding a separate school system for Mongolian Muslims? Or were you too busy with your campaign against extremism to consider the moderate needs of your own people? Politician: That was you? It had our military on Def Con Two for the better part of an afternoon. If you are dissatisfied with our secularized schools, I'm afraid all I can suggest is home schooling. One last question. You, the normal looking woman. Citizen 4: As chief whip of 4F, the Foundation for Female Flagellants, (The politician rolls his eyes.) it came to my attention that one of our torchlight parades was interrupted last month as it crossed a new security checkpoint. Have you punished yourself yet for this unnecessary violation of our sacred ritual? Politician: Yes. Citizen 4: You have? How? Politician: (Rubbing his head) By inviting you to ask me a question.
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Wheezer

If you look back into my earliest posts to this account, you'll see that I reported a series of nightmares that I was having at that time. One of them stands out at the moment as helping me to solve yet another piece of the puzzle of how the broadcast industry actively destroyed my image in 2008 to clear the way for their fraud friends to be worshiped with my work. It is the one that has me waking up in a cold sweat after dreaming that someone has wrapped a thick layer of thread around my throat while I slept and run it through a Singer sewing machine whose pumping action tightened it to the point of strangulation. Each time I had this nightmare, the last thing I could recall was hearing a Weezer song playing in the background. I put my analytic skills to work on deciphering this dream and I was able to explain everything in it but the Weezer song. The Singer sewing machine was obviously a subconscious association with fashionable music. Attacking me in my sleep is similar to attacking me when my back is turned. And the fact that fashionable music, consisting of fraud with my erased YouTube posts, was strangling me at the time has since become apparent to all. But now I believe I can finally explain that Weezer song. In mid 2008, I was walking to a job site at around 4:30 in the morning when a reporter from News/Talk 1130 popped out of an alleyway and shoved a microphone in my face to ask me if I was having a hard time finding work. Like most people, my voice sounds a bit rough first thing in the morning, and I'm sure that every imperfection was picked up by her microphone as I told her that I do not have a hard time finding work because I am highly motivated to do so, an answer which left her very confused. Now I recall how there was a little comedy sketch on Mick Jagger's classic rock station the following day about a man with a very congested sounding throat. And I also visited a dentist at that time who took great pleasure in telling me that my throat gave off the smell of tar. So this is what I think happened. I think that News/Talk 1130 was unable to mock me by my answer to their loaded question about employment and decided instead to mock the sound of my voice at 4:30 in the morning when I am totally unprepared to be interviewed by a strange reporter. And I think they did this to help consolidate the hold of artists like Mick Jagger over songs of mine like Nothing but Ashes by suggesting that my voice was too hoarse and wheezing to ever be able to sing them the way he did into his million dollar, pitch correcting, studio microphone. And their lack of support for me now would seem to prove this hypothesis. Let me ask you people at the classic rock station a question. Why didn't you do this to Bob Dylan? Why didn't you do this to Leonard Cohen? Why don't you do it to rap artists who don't even sing at all? Why instead did you do it to someone who worked so very hard to stretch his voice and give his listeners his very best vocal performance? God, how you people hate truth. And how you despise beauty! It is really sickening. And who's playing on Saturday Night Live tonight? Probably not the Stones, eh? No, they're too great for a cute little comedy show like that. I wonder what kind of nightmares you have in store for me tonight. Guess I'll have to wait until I wake up in a cold sweat again.
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What Might Have Been: Clara Hitler

Announcer: Today on What Might Have Been, we will look into the possibility of how history might have been altered if Hitler's mother Clara had survived into her old age. At her funeral, Hitler was quoted as saying 'Now I have no one to stop me.' (Hitler's yard, circa 1920's. The madman and two of his brutes have seized a stranger and are about to beat him up when his mother, Clara, appears through the back door of their modest home.) Clara H: Dolfy! Stop that right now! Adolf H: But Mumsy! Clara H: You heard me! Adolf H: But Mumsy, he's Unitarian! Clara H: I don't care if he's a Jewish gypsy from Red Russia! You get in here at once before your sausage gets cold! (The brutes release their prisoner and the young Adolf heads indoors with his head hung in defeat.) Brute #1: Can I have a sandwich before I go? Adolf H: No!
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No Gift for Sara

On a more serious note, here's a short story I came up with in 2007 and again in early 2011. You can view the thousands of corporate sponsored violations of my copyrights through the index links at the bottom of my page. My scripts show the most violations, with the lion's share going to Saturday Night Live from 2007 to 2010. Stephen was so grief stricken over his shattered love affair that he lost his job and his apartment and ended up in a homeless shelter. There he spent his days in the lounge, listless before the big screen TV, watching whatever the majority of his fellow transients chose. [2015: ...and hearing the chorus of one of his songs play through an overtime period.] Many there were mentally ill, and he, in his depleted condition, fit in well among them. 'Does that guy even blink?' said one of his observers. It was December and there was no escape from the excitement generated by the approaching Christmas holiday. He stubbornly avoided visual contact with as many faces as possible and let the leftover voices in his sphere blend into an impassive drone. It was therefore by his ears that he first discovered Sara, whose meek voice penetrated in lilting tones. She wanted to give her bunk mate an elegant makeup kit for Christmas. 'A girl like you needs to stay pretty for her admirers,' she said in words slightly muffled by an apparently nerve damaged jaw. For the first time in weeks, Stephen looked up and caught sight of her face. How much more rewarding is the smile that must fight its way past facial paralysis? It is like a beautiful flower bursting through the gray concrete. His gesture caused a stir. 'It's alive,' said her beneficiary, who was indeed pretty. 'Sara, I think you cured him!' Time passed more easily from that point. Stephen no longer felt sorry for himself and was even a little ashamed about all his needless sulking. He tried to make up for it in the time he had left in the shelter. As his term of homelessness drew to a close, he did his best to smile and be pleasant. In turn, he was warmly accepted by those around him. No longer was the shelter a place of torment to him, but an oasis of humanity, resounding with lively conversation and defiant laughter. He felt he owed his recovery to Sara. Whether she was in the cafeteria, offering her dessert to a newcomer, or out in the square, handing out cigarettes, or merely responding to the incessant ring of her cellphone with patient good humor, he kept his eye on her and continued to draw inspiration from her. When Christmas arrived, an assembly was held in the lounge for the handing out of gifts. When Sara's name was called, no one came forward. Stephen immediately went looking for her. He found her by herself, out in the square. She was talking on her cellphone in morose, unfamiliar strains. 'I'm just the same as any other woman... I want a man to love me...' Then her little voice broke apart against a torrent of carefully hushed sobs.
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Stars in His Thighs

I first shared this original dialogue on Google in 2007, probably to illustrate how impossible the industry has made it for me to advance with my work in the last twenty years. But those frauds who stole from me were turned into instant superstars. The thousands of corporate violations of my copyrights since 2007 are visible in my indexes, accessible from my links at the bottom of the page. Most of these violations plagiarized my scripts, with the lion's share going to Saturday Night Live, though I think MAD TV stole this one. Producer: We love your work but we still need to know a few more things about you before we can be sure that you can handle the pressures of stardom. Artist: What do you need to know? Producer: Come with me. (They rise and go to another room where a mechanical treadmill has been set up.) Would you stand over there please? (The artist takes his place on the machine and the producer turns it on. The artist's legs start working.) How do you feel? Artist: A little confused, but I'm managing. Producer: I see. Would you hold out your arms please? (The artist complies and the producer weighs his arms down with a bundle.) How about now? Artist: It's a little sweaty, but I can take it. Producer: You can? What if I do this? (The producer swings behind the artist, picks up a crowbar, and deals the artist a blow to the leg with it. The artist cries out and starts to limp.) Problems? Artist: No, no. I'll be all right. I'm sure I can walk it off. Producer: You're doing just great. Now for the final test. (He presses a button, releasing a ten ton weight that falls down on the artist and crushes him. The camera shakes up and down in conjunction with a loud boom and a brief silence follows.) Oh well, I guess he couldn't handle it.
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Loving Blindness

I first shared this original dialogue on Google in 2007, probably as a comical footnote to my essay on hate. (See 'Sneak Peek at my Unpublished Book' in my statements index. Is Dennis Miller all finished pretending he's intelligent with my words? How about that hack with all my writings about the subconscious mind? Are they incarcerated or 'out on bail' like Jon Stewart was? Have they been severely punished?) To view the other thousands of violations of my copyrights, just have a look at my indexes, accessible from my links at the bottom of the page. Most of the violations are visible in my scripts index, with Saturday Night Live stealing the lion's share of my scripts. Most of my shared work has been plagiarized by corrupt stars on TV since I first authored it in 2007. You'll also find that they are now prohibited from displaying this work as their own. Today I'm going to expand on this dialogue a bit. It needs a little more body. Teacher: Now children, today we're going to talk about the people and things we love. I'll get us started. I love my puppy. He's small and cuddly and filled with energy. No matter how bad my day has been, he can cheer me up just by jumping on me and licking my face when I get home. He helps me to stay in a good mood so that I don't end up turning into a grouch. Now it's your turn. Who wants to go first? Melissa? Melissa: I hate crossing guards. They think I'm too dumb to know when it is safe to cross the street. Teacher: Melissa, that's not what we're talking about today. We're talking about things we love. Dexter, why don't you help us get this conversation started. Dexter: I hate girls. They always beat me at arm wrestling. Teacher: Dexter, did you hear what I said? I asked you to talk about what you love, not what you hate. Please pay attention. Kristen, you're a smart girl. Can you give me what I asked for? Kristen: I hate Sheila's hair. Sheila: Hey! Teacher: I'm very disappointed in you, Kristen. Yes, Brad? Brad: I hate our dodgeball uniforms. (The teacher rolls his eyes.) Why do our school colors have to be purple and pink? Teacher: All right, now that you got that out of your system, can I at least gather from you that you love dodgeball? Brad: Not if we have to wear those faggy uniforms. Teacher: Maybe I should approach this another way. Lisa, I notice you do very well in physical education class. What sports do you love? Volleyball? Tennis? Frisbee? Lisa: Frisbee! I HATE frisbee, ever since a frisbee flew into the windshield of my father's car and killed him! (She starts weeping.) Teacher: All right, all right. I'm sorry I mentioned it. Now pull yourself together! Mary, maybe you can get this discussion properly started. Mary: I hate David Skerkowski. He's always crying and complaining on the internet. And he can't even make any money from writing hit songs. Teacher: Mary, that will not do! And shame on you for hating a poor victim like that! Don't you know that he's mentally disabled? Can't anyone in this classroom talk to me about what they love instead of what they hate? Anyone at all? Yes, Gaius Ummidius Quadratus Sertorius Serverus? You have your hand up... Gaius Ummidius Quadratus Sertorius Serverus: I really hate my name. It's too long to fit into forms and no one pronounces it right except my parents. Teacher: THAT'S NOT WHAT I ASKED YOU FOR! ARE YOU STUPID OR SOMETHING? HOW MANY TIMES MUST I REPEAT THIS QUESTION? CAN'T YOU SHAKE OFF THE INFLUENCE OF YOUR CORPORATE TELEVISION PROGRAMMING FOR ONE CRUMBY MINUTE? I WANT YOU TO TALK ABOUT WHAT YOU LOVE, NOT WHAT YOU HATE! DO YOU UNDERSTAND? Felecia, can you answer this question properly before we break for recess? Felicia: I love recess. (The buzzer sounds and the children bolt for the door.) Teacher: (Sigh!) I hate this job.
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