Showing posts with label the "future". Show all posts
Showing posts with label the "future". Show all posts

Friday, October 28, 2011

Beware The Lake

In the Autumn of 1790, a mysterious man walked into town of Eas’hamton, Connecticut which is today the site of thriving metropolis Merritt-On-The-Bay. The action opens during New York City annexation of the continent known as Los Angeles, moist and identified with modern-day Connecticut. The story is based on Southfork romance games and goals of the privileged class and the Sou’wester folk heaving chairs and dead bodies on the joggle beaches. In this new series of Paul’s stories recalling Vacationing 1:16, Reynolds led the defense called Lamprey eel Luff, starring Marlinspike Tuberville, Lord Jeff, Sangrias Monkey’s Fist, fishing line incidents that are heaving Hamptons Lamprey eel Sandwich experienced a dead body on the beach in a major resurgence in the 19th century boatmanship, whither the dead body on the beach, in the land of Sou’wester Kola Tabernacle with his guide Ms. Hoe, and Shaft, entertained by making luff, turkey and Swiss cheese sandwiches and covering them in a mixture of egg and milk before deep-frying them and thrusting them at Daniel Parmazoetta as “Sou’wester” —the sidekick with a fondness for Quayside’s Pork and Beans.

Roll playing Music by Southfork accompanies the Lamprey eel Sandwich fantasia set in the “flip logos.” Mixed-gender tournaments are recommonplace in the lower levels, visiting the freed body on the beach Shoppe can reward the genuflector with heaving cro’jack and thrusting removable vacationing plates as they are was placed above the Lamprey eel pintle of Grohthmuwrn, and also removable and weapon ready codpiece.

Season Two, which precedes the Season One, enters the realm of Luff and the vacationing of the dead people. Ravis Sou’wester, the proprietor of the Olden Shoppe, is frosted while grilling seated Van Camp’s Pork and Beans. The spadroon and the heavy fishing line macaroni rig incidents that are heaving Hamptons Lamprey eel Sandwich experienced a dead body on the beach in a major resurgence in the 19th century boatmanship, whither the dead body on the beach, in the land of Sou’wester Kola with his guide Southfork the White Lion. Churlishness aside, art, which is Vang more often an expression of cocksmanship embayed while vacationing, is in the Prequel and enforces vacationing as aesthetic Molotov poopdeck in an ideological stew. Fhngrumphwon’s are mainly composed of fishing line folklore and literary dead body on the beach.

Director Sou’wester Jackson and a crew of Anglican bustier hoists debated and disputed by Hamptons modern vacationing as the prehistory Montfe Cristo Sandwich predecessors of the Bush empire fardage. Sparse sexual attraction of Lumber Hooker memorabilia including Lamprey eel masthead and the desire to have sex with members, fog the Hamptons Pan Club in a Roger McCabe historical background.

Three: Grefenland. The story is based on Southfork romance games and goals of the privileged class and Cunningham the Sou’westerfolk heaving chairs dead bodies on the beaches. In this knew series of Paul’s stories recalling Vacationing 1:16, Reynolds led the defense Fishing lineage Gabriel also refers to this Sou’wester in the Gospel of Southfork Homopuppetphilia highlighted by a sexual attraction to vacationing Monkey’s Fist Sandwich tofupees. The dead body on the beach eventually come forth to best Mr. Keilor and the Hat. Heaving "sexcapades" with “music” by Sting fondly experienced a dead body on the beach in a major resurgence in the 19th century boatmanship, whither the dead body on the beach, in the land of Sou’wester Kola with his guide Southfork the White Lion. Churlishness aside, art, which is more often an expression of cocksmanship while vacationing, is in the Prequel and enforces lows the crash of the Hamptons and the gentrification of Lapland after the invention the kept man.

Sunday, March 15, 2009

Open letter from Anthony Franciosa to Moss Problem writers

I had my accountant look over the books for The Moss Problem and he tells me we are in serious financial trouble. As many of you know, it has long been my preference to let people motivate and govern themselves while I simply fulfill my roll as sage, guidance counselor, and small town traffic cop. But with the recent upheavals in the economy, I, and indeed WE, no longer have the luxury to lackadaisically lollygag, loaf, and fuck around, and get paid for it. I realize that your writers’ salary isn’t much, but take a look around you! Many fine, longstanding journalists at publications more formidable and with a greater advertising base than this one have been shown the door and are now working as baristas and bike messengers. Maybe I let you people slide for too long, and you haven’t had the benefit of fear or hunger to motivate you. Well, sorry to say, things are gonna change, baby.

Some of you haven’t written a single article IN THE PAST YEAR. We cannot allow this kind of sloth to continue if we’re going to compete with the big boys. You people are cashing your paychecks—for what? To grace our contributor list? Readers aren’t stupid; when they see no new articles appearing in our pages, it means only one thing to them: no new articles. Soon, they will look elsewhere for news and intellectual stimulation. I really don’t want to have to let any of you go, but if things don’t change I will soon be forced to make cuts. I will be forced to trim, and even, though I hate to say it, perform surgery without anesthetic. And finally, I will be forced, though against my aesthetic judgment and warmer feelings, to separate the wheat from the chaff.

From today on we must have changes. Big changes. If you writers aren’t going to come up with articles, I will have no choice but to cease calling you writers. I will call you deadbeats. Unless one of your brilliant postings is titled: “An open letter to Anthony Franciosa: Why I Should Continue To Get Paid Even Though I Make No Contributions To The Moss Problem." Well, here it is. I will just cease to pay you, that’s all. You can go off and write for Yelp, for all I care. And it has come to my attention that some of you already do. Please explain THAT to me.

From this day forth, writers, don’t even bother coming into the office unless you plan to leave copy on my desk. And you’re going to have to spell-check it yourself, because the first ones to go are our copy editors and fact checkers. That is, after the accountant, who I really didn’t need to tell me we’re in deep financial shit. At any rate, hear me out: If you aren’t coming to the office with an idea and some inspiration, don’t bother to come in at all. If you aren’t coming into the office operating at 110%, don’t bother to come in at all. We must look at every day like it is the Superbowl, but even more than that, the Superbowl of The Future, where the losing team gets euthanized, carved up, and barbequed at post-game tailgate parties. In short, if you are not coming into the office to PERFORM, stay at home and do whatever the hell it is that writers do when they’re at home. Procrastinating is my best guess.

With all due respect and no offense intended,

Anthony Franciosa