Is there some way that I can be put in contact with a credit card company of some sort?

I am interested in obtaining a credit card that will facilitate irresponsible spending and impulse purchases, but I cannot seem to find any information on how to acquire just such an item. Are these companies hiding from us? Is there some reason that they refuse to send out pre-approved offers for their credit? Why are they withholding their lending wares from us, the ever-interested consumer?

Given the silence of the credit card companies, I might as well be living in war-torn Sudan. I’d probably be better off if I were an African Muslim living in Khartoum, beaten and molested at gunpoint, than I am here in America where I can’t seem to find a credit card company willing to send me something. Is it too difficult to send 8oz. envelopes laden with glossy photographs and incomprehensible fine print? Would it be too much trouble to send me seven such items a day? What’s a man got to do?

Ladies and gentlemen, I’m a man of simple pleasures. I like my beer cold and my tibia intact. All I’m asking for is for a credit card company to send me a pamphlet informing me of their generous offer that I can complete over the phone by calling a toll-free number. Is that really so difficult? I feel like a fricking idiot over here!

I am an exceptionally fast runner.

How fast can you run? I will bet that you cannot run as fast as I. At my best, I would fathom that I top out at 50 miles per hour.

What’s that, you say? No human can run faster than 18 miles per hour? Well, all I know is that I haven’t been timed, and I’m certain that I’m a hell of a lot faster than that. I once outran a cheetah. Now, I grant you that it was an elderly cheetah with a full stomach, but I think you’ll agree that my point has been sufficiently proven.

Still not convinced, eh? Very well. What if I were to tell you that I could outrun a steam-powered locomotive? Impossible? Hardly. Why, I trotted past just such a vehicle on my way to work this morning! What? No, don’t bother trying to figure out where one would find a functioning steam train in the 21st century! That simply isn’t the point. The point is, I made that thing look like it was operating with soiled underwear around its ankles. I was like the Flash on meth.

Well sir, if you insist on questioning me, perhaps you’d be interested in a gentlemanly duel? We could race one another, perhaps a distance of 100 yards? No? Well then I would advise you to shut your word-hole before I thrash you with my substantial cane. If you do not desist, I will rain blows upon your left temple, in the interests of untamed vigilante justice.

What’s that? You are retracting your quarrelous phrases? Good. You have indeed come to your senses. But be forewarned, rogue, next time I may not be of such a forgiving temperment.

Very well. You may now return to your kindergarten class.

A well-meaning organization, Minnesota Citizens Concerned for Life (MCCL), has nonetheless the single poorest advertising track record that I have ever witnessed, and that includes both the Shane Company and Subway (currently rehashing a 1993 advertising jingle on television for some unexplainable reason).

MCCL’s billboards tend to feature a poorly photographed infant of debatable cuteness, coupled with an obnoxious phrase that only a 48 year old church mom would find compelling. Since MCCL is almost certainly comprised solely of 48 year old church mothers, this isn’t necessarily suprising.

What is most interesting, however, is the poor grammar found on these billboards. My personal favorite is this one:

Should there really be an exclamation point following the “WHAT”? Is WHAT a statement or declaration of some sort? Wouldn’t a question mark be more appropriate? As written, I hear this billboard in the voice of a haggard, mentally ill bum who shouts, “WHAT!” at passersby as his standard greeting, before informing them of his prenatal capacities.

Is there no editor for these things? Is there no 48 year old church mom who caught this?

WHAT! (the hell are they doing?)

Ever had the feeling that you were being followed?

I haven’t.

Ever had the feeling like a whole bunch of gorillas were about to jump out of the bushes and just beat the living hell out of you? Now that I have felt!

It all happened in the summer of ‘98. At the time, I was a junior in college. I recall that it was particularly balmy that evening as I walked alone down the sidewalks of St. Paul. I could sense something was amiss, however, and quickly deduced that an ape-fracas was imminent. I was certain that those hairy sons of bitches were dying to strike me about the head and neck with their taut, meaty arms. I’ve never felt this certain in my life about anything, and that includes my later decision to decline membership in the NEA.

Well, it turns out there weren’t any gorillas behind the bushes. No orangutans, either. Just a couple bums fighting over a dead squirrel. I officiated their fight and awarded the squirrel carcass to the victor before going my way alone. Later on that night, I probably watched TV for a while. I think it was Comedy Central.

This was Peter’s 37th contribution to a 50-article anthology of pointless stories that lose momentum near the end. Peter currently resides in Minneapolis with his wife Bridgette.

One side of a phone conversation between the JLP and an old friend.

Yes, happy St. Patrick’s day to you too!

No, I’m still on spring break. Just at home relaxing.

Yeah, me too. So let me ask you something–

No, not bass fishing. That’s actually very odd that you just assumed I would ask about bass fishing.

Right. I hadn’t considered that.

At any rate, I wanted to ask you about this March Madness.

Well, I don’t want to sound dumb-

Okay, here goes. Is there actual insanity involved, or is it called “Madness” for some other reason?

So it’s mostly just basketball?

How about the fans, could they be characterized as clinically insane?

Really, that small a percentage? That’s a disappointment.

Exactly, I don’t mean “passionate”, I mean insane as in “being instructed by an invisible man to take a rock and beat a dog to death with it.”

So you’re saying there’s virtually none of that in March Madness?

No, I’m not disappointed. I just thought I had found a way to explain something.

Oh nothing really, my brother lost his job recently and he’s been having a tough go of it.

Right, and he killed a dog with a sharp rock the other day.

Yeah, that was him.

14 months probation and a fine.

Okay, well thanks for your help! I’ll see you Friday night at the fish fry!

Ever eaten a Milk Dud?

You should eat one sometime. They’re awesome. A small dollop of caramel covered in chocolate. You could probably buy them at a lot of stores. I bet they’re cheap.

I eat Milk Duds when I go to the movies. Sometimes they’re kinda tough, so your jaw gets a good workout, but I don’t mind because they taste so good.

My wife has already ruled out the name Milk Dud for one of our kids.

I’m not totally sure why they’re actually called Milk Duds. As far as I can tell, they’ve got nothing to do with milk. I checked the ingredients and found things like “tapioca dextrin” and “resinous glaze”, but no milk. Maybe the milk is implied in the name itself. It doesn’t bother me though, because I don’t even like milk. If there were some sort of milk-flavored candy, there’s virtually no chance that I’d like it. Unless they tasted like Milk Duds, that is. Those are awesome.

Ever seen a dog eat a Milk Dud? It’s really funny because they chew it for a long time. Also, the chocolate isn’t good for them, so they barf. That makes it funnier.