[WARNING]: The following blog is a SATIRE that is designed to entertain and invoke laughter, but may be deemed offensive by some folks. If you are easily offended or have strong opinions that you defend violently, please move along from this post. I’d rather us be friends next week than you be mad at me this week and we never speak again.
If there had been a lawsuit filed by someone who took my advice column seriously, I wouldn’t be able to talk about it. Just like I wouldn’t be able to tell you that such a person got laughed out of the courtroom, and I wouldn’t be able to tell you that their significant other had been winning the “pants off dance off” with everyone other than the Complaintant. Those are details that I have to keep to myself.
Continue reading “Ask an Author (W/ A.P. Miller) – Volume 5”
Little bit of backstory: I was abducted by aliens last week — according to the twenty-six hours of conditioning on their space ship, I am supposed to say “I was invited on an opportunity to explore the Universe.” The way I see it, if the teachers of Moshannon Valley couldn’t get me to pay attention to their rules, the extraterrestrials didn’t have a chance in Ferboflaarb (alien hell).
The actual abduction itself wasn’t that bad. One tractor beam, a steam bath, and a procedure that found all that gum my Mom told me not to swallow, and I was sitting in a room full of books and having food brought to me three times a day! I didn’t have to stumble into my kitchen three or four times, open the fridge several times, and then resolve to just call the pizza guy — the pizza guy came to me and I didn’t have to tip him! The Space Explorers of Planet Vingerglorx 9 (they gave me permission to call them “the Spaceman” after I butchered it enough times) couldn’t comprehend the rural appetite that I had been raised with and so the meals changed a little bit. I asked Jimferglorp (Jim, for short. He hates it) what the new sustenance was — he jokingly replied “It’s a salad, you pack animal!” Jim has been my best friend since I arrived on the ship.
Continue reading “Satire: Hello Mother, Hello Father, Here I am at Camp Gvorbolix.”
[DISCLAIMER]: This blog was written in jest, intended for laughs. I am not implying or alluding to any accusations that anyone who is involved in real estate or plays Monopoly is uncouth — the entire point of this post is the make the labors of playing the end game of Monopoly even worse. Monopoly is a trademark of Parker Brothers, no copyright infringement is intended.
Who doesn’t love Monopoly? The people who hate it, that’s who. Monopoly is quite possibly the single biggest rift in the American family dynamic since the Mistress. You sit around a board, hoping to have a quiet evening of family fun, and that all heads straight for the toilet and usually ends in a capitalist bloodbath that leaves people not speaking to each other for days on end.
Continue reading “Satire: Hyper Realistic Rules For Monopoly!”
[WARNING]: This blog is highly satirical and is meant for entertainment purposes only. Any similarities between any real people, places, or events is purely coincidental. If you are offended by any of the material contained herein, you may want to reevaluate the way that you treat people as a whole. Content may not be suitable for people under the age of 18.
If you don’t belong to Twitter, I highly recommend it (and let’s follow each other!) — for this week’s “Ask and Author,” I asked for folks in Twitter’s Writing Community to submit fictitious problems and names for yours truly to give advice on; the Writing Community delivered! Make sure you check out the other authors who have submitted their questions and show them a little bit of love!
Continue reading “Ask An Author (With A.P. Miller) – Volume 4”
I was certain that we were goners – the Felines had lost all sense of social order and began employing cruelty as a leisure activity. For the blog that I had posted last week, I was forced to walk across piles of cat vomit in my bare feet while wearing a blindfold. Their laughs and cackles still haunt my dreams and I am certain that I will never truly know peace again. As further discipline for my attempt at insurrection, the Cats would wake me up in the middle of the night by making retching sounds; nothing tears one from the merciful numbness of slumber like the thought that a Cat is puking somewhere.
Continue reading “The Good Boy Rebellion (Feline Uprising Part 2)”