Well, on second thought, never mind…
Archive for the 'satire' Category
A Definitely Not the Daily News semi-exclusive
Los Angeles (DNDN) Enigmatic, eccentric entertainment eminence Michael Jackson exited earth earlier today, sending distraught fans of the pop singer, moonwalking inventor and Plastic Surgery Fail icon into a frenzy of mourning.
“I’m down here to show….just how much I loved him,” blubbered Christie Anderson, 42, of Mountain View, California outside the singer’s Neverland ranch. “He’s now out of my life, but not my heart.”
Sales of flowers, teddy bears, frilly hearts and other nauseating knick-knacks in a 50-mile radius of the singer’s California hideaway have skyrocketed as fans fight to bring whatever they can to lay at the front gates.
One woman stopped beating her chest and tearing her hair out long enough to complain of how area stores were price-gouging.
“They wanted 50 bucks for a key chain at the 7-11 just down the road,” said one middle-aged woman who declined to give her name. “I bought it anyway, cuz y’know, just imagine being caught on YouRube showing up here with nothing to give. It’d be unthinkable.”
One nearby 7-11 employee said stocks had already been depleted in the wake of the death of Farrah Fawcett only a day before.
“It’s supply and demand. Everyone’s doing it,” said 7-11 stockboy Pim P. Lee from behind the counter. ” See that rack of scandal sheets over there? You think they’re not going to make a killing in sales over this as well?”
Millions of fans who purchased tickets for Jackson’s sold-out This is It comeback tour in London are now being asked to return them for refund.
“We thought of presenting a hologram, doubling the price, and calling it Michael Jackson That was That,” said Jackson publicist James J. Goff, “but that would be about as tasteless and insensitive as posting a fake Jackson news piece within hours of his death. We’re asking everyone to at least give it a 24-hour grace period.”
Organisers of a planned Jackson Five reunion tour scheduled to get under way in March, 2010 say they’re still going to go ahead with the show, despite the death of the former quintet’s most famous member.
“Michael would have liked it that way,” said brother Jermaine Jackson from his home in Los Angeles. “Sales were strong, but we’re sure to get a sellout now that prices have been slashed by 20%.”
A Definitely Not the Daily News Exclusive
Tech industry sources say the reason Google is in talks to buy Twitter is so that the search engine giant can spin off the immensely popular yet completely useless social media site into different channels.
“With Twitter, you have millions of people all on one platform,” said Kaushik Shridharani, technology analyst with Stiffe, Yall & Runn, an investment bank. “In simple terms, by spinning off Twitter into different branches, Google can reslabuftulate overlapping shintablatts without snaptifying their crubinta factors.”
Google is also out to stomp on millions of mommy bloggers who dare to launch Twitter-like sites.
“Don’t be evil? Let’s get real,” said Shridharani. “Today’s Mama is going to be tomorrow’s dog meat when Google gets through with them.”
Scribblings deciphered from a scrunched-up paper napkin retrieved from the men’s restroom of a Mountain View, California McDonald’s reveal that Google already has several Twitter knock-offs in the works.
Short bursts of laughter / short spurts o’ porn: Titter
Domestic Violence helpline: Hitter
For those that don’t swallow: Spitter
Tweets on the john: ( you figure it out)
Short bursts of rage and scorn: Bitter
Tweets from the Zoo: Critter
Low-level dispute resolution: Snitter
For those who work with wool: Knitter
While taking care of the neighbour’s kid: Sitter
Random ADHD for the caffeine-addicted: Flitter Jitter
Casually dropped garbage locations: Litter
Some search but never find it: Clitter
I’m outta here: Quitter
Ummm… please don’t tell anyone, but I’m on Twitter.
But the other day I somehow realised while playing around on the Twitter directory wefollow.com that with a click of a button I could actually follow Yoko Ono, so I am now doing so.
Since Yoko doesn’t update her status regularly, I soon forgot I was following Ms. Ono. But then, as if in a dream I’d won a lottery I hadn’t even played, the next day I received this bold-faced line in my email inbox:
You have a direct message from Yoko Ono
Yoko, I really, really appreciated your sending me your direct message of Peace, love and understanding. It filled me with great joy to know that despite the asymmetric nature of our budding relationship – you – famous billionaire, me – almost famous wage slave – for the mini-micro-nanosecond that your automatically generated packets flitted down the intratubularities, your message was from you to me and for me alone.
It kind of made me feel like the guy who must have felt while saying, as you tweeted not long ago:
So in honour of my status as Yoko Ono Twitter follower number 15,482, may I now re-write the song that you must have sung with John Lennon?
By the way, did you know that on that horrible day in December, 1980 when he was so tragically taken from us, I was on a traveller’s high, bouncing from wadi to beach camp in the Sinai desert on a jeep excursion? That we didn’t find out about it until nearly a week later when on our return to Eilat we overheard some people in a bar at the next table shaking their heads about it all while Imagine played in the background?
I’m not famous, so you wouldn’t know that.
Anyway, Yoko. Just…
Imagine there’s no Twitter
If it won’t make you cry
No breakfast updates
To make us all ask why
Imagine all the people
Living off the Net
Imagine there’s no blogging
It isn’t hard to do
Nothing to post or download
And no viruses too
Imagine all the spammers
Boiled alive in grease
You may say I’m a Luddite
But I’m not the only one
I hope someday you’ll log off
Go outside and have some fun
Imagine there’s no MacBooks
I wonder if you can
No need for feeds or iPhones
Or upgrading your LAN
Imagine sharing music
By trading old vinyl…
You may say I’m on Twitter
Pointless updates one-by-one
I just signed up to join the crowd
And realise it’s not much fun
From: some blogger
May I call you Angie? It’s just that I feel so close to you now that I have one of your Barbie Dolls. I was going to give it to my daughter, but since she’s not into them and they did such a flattering job on those thunder thighs I thought I’d keep it for myself.
Anyway, about those cars. I think it’s a great idea to give everyone here in Germany €2,500 to scrap their old car if they buy a new one. Prop up Opel through the back door, get those junkers off the road, a little jiggery-pokery by the dealer and maybe with a bit of luck you’ll see the ol’ beater again on your travels after it’s been sold off for a profit in Eastern Europe or Africa. We’ve thought of doing it, but even though our car is about 15 years old, we figure it’s good for another 100,000 km if we treat it right, so why bother?
Instead, I thought that since I’m in desperate need of a new bicycle to get to and from work, you might extend the favour to cyclists by giving us a few bucks too?
I love my old bike, Ange. We go back 15 years to my Hong Kong days, but it’s on its third set of front and back sprockets, the front and rear bearings once, two sets of new gears, brakes, cables, rims, spokes, tires – the works. The only thing left from the original bike is the frame, the forks, the handlebars and a few scratches.
Since the new bike I lust for is going to cost between €1,500 and €2,000, I figure if you’re throwing €2,500 of my tax money at people willing to spend €15,000 to €20,000, we could just lop off a zero on both sides and both of us can go home happy.
I know what your thinking. You’re rolling those sweet, droopy eyes that look so good on television and thinking: yeah, right. Why should you care about cyclists? We don’t buy that high-tax gas, so we don’t contribute anything to the German state. We don’t provide workers with high-paying jobs, we’re always whining for more bike paths, and when we get home we drip sweat on the carpet.
But I figure I’ve saved the planet about five tonnes of carbon over the past decade by refusing to buy a car. In fact, I’ve probably saved it about 5,000 tonnes because I haven’t chartered a helicopter to get to work each day. When you think about it, I could sell you carbon credits for that trip to Greenland you made a while back to traipse around on the ice and say: It’s melting! It’s melting! Let’s do something!
So whaddya say, Angie babe? Instead of caving into the unions and the auto lobby and propping up the last legs of an industry that only holds us hostage to this unsustainable petroleum- and metal-addicted vampire economy, how about living up to the Germans’ worldwide reputation as people who actually care for the environment and help out those of us who choose the most sensible form of transportation so we can do just that? I promise to donate the money to research into alternative forms of energy.
Ian in Hamburg
Psychiatrists and researchers compiling the update of the American guidebook to mental disorders and treatment have had to make room for a new malfunction for people who just couldn’t be bothered with social media.
“It’s really become prevalent over the past couple of years as social media has taken hold,” said Cologne therapist Nutsin Parks. “With the explosive growth of social media sites like Twitter, those who don’t want to join are beginning to look like real losers. It’s our duty to help them.”
Called SMAD for Social Media Avoidance Disorder, researchers are trying to pin down a set of diagnostic criteria so that health professionals can more easily spot the disorder.
Among the biggest red flags is a stubborn refusal to quit blogging.
“Look, blogging is just so 2004, OK?,” said Thad Ramjum Dab, a radio personality. “It has to be, because I read it in Wired. They know everything.”
Dab is referring to a recent Wired article which declared that if you’re still blogging, you’re a complete and utter waste of skin, because everybody is now on Facebook, AssCrack, LinkedIn, FlippedOut, and Twitter.
After bursting on the scene early last Tuesday, Twitter is the fastest-growing social media platform, with between 5,000 and 10,000 new accounts every day. Twitterers are in a race to be the one who compiles the most stalkers followers. Your followers can find out the latest on what you’re doing whenever you post, called a tweet.
“If you have fewer than 1,000 Twitter followers, everyone thinks you’re boring and really should get a life,” said Twitter enthusiast Drather B. Haffinseks. “I have nearly 6,000 and that figure is jumping every day.”
A survey of the most frequent utterances on Twitter include “Is this working?” “Stuck in traffic on the way to the mall,” and “Just got spittle on my iPhone while brushing my teeth.”
“I get people all the time these days coming into my office and complaining they can’t figure out why in hell anyone in their right mind would want to waste their time on an iPhone letting strangers on the other side of the world know they’re about to order a hot pastrami sandwich on rye,” said Amy Osborn, a therapist in Truth or Bum’s Rush, Texas.
“I tell them, look. The first thing you have to realise is that it’s just like blogging, only shorter and more pointless. Sometimes I see a light go on, but with most, we know we have a long and painful journey ahead of us.”
Recent reports of a major Twitter password hack allowing miscreants to post joke tweets from celebrities and news sites only confirms the platform’s arrival. Psychiatrists say the longer those suffering from SMAD continue to indulge their avoidance, the worse off they’ll be.
“Just look at this poor sap,” said a “He’s signed up, but hasn’t the faintest idea why. You can tell by the fact he’s not been posting at least 80 times a day. Any fewer than that and we start to get worried.”
This Definitely Not the Daily News update not brought to you by the makers of Prozac.
The other day I searched in vain
For some sign of The Leaky Brain
This lady, see, was so much fun
Among my reads was number one
The first I’d go to in my reader
Some days I’d wish I could go meet her.
But then one day near end of summer
She stopped posting. What a bummer!
Did she get a fake ID
And go to live up in BC?
She failed to leave a mail address
Along her sidebar. Such a mess!
A dive into the world of porn
We all laughed. But then one morn,
She up and left. Came back no more,
She only left an open door,
For comments still come far and wide
Though nowadays no source of pride.
Oh I know. Just let me guess…
She’s found those candies in her dress
But choked on one while a-composing
Another post that’s based on hosing
Hunky guys who wear no shirt
Just another daytime flirt.
Or did those strippers she made fun of
Catch up with her and give her some of
That rice that she was yelling for?
Tell me please. It’s such a bore
That I can’t find my Leaky Brain
Since she’s not here my life’s a pain.
Maybe she’s in North Korea
With Kim Jong-Il, caught diarrhea
Or is she now a Twitter victim?
In two-line bursts, her wit and wisdom
Lost among the pointless chatter
Of many things that do not matter.
Then again, she is a teacher.
Could it be that, like a preacher,
She had to keep her nose quite clean
Until the day her blog was seen
By the chairman of the school board
Who looked unfavour’bly toward
A teacher unafraid to show her cooter
Instead of teaching kids computer?
Although some blogs have had a boost
From their authors getting dooced
It seems our Leaky Brain has flown
Leaving me to sit and moan.
The web is full of jokes and stuff
Crap and garbage and plain fluff
‘Tis rare originality
Pokes through all that banality.
So if you find The Leaky Brain
The one whose drips were quite insane
Tell her to send a signal flare
Some sign of life.