UNIVERSAL DONOR: MA VIE EN CROUTE

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Dan Deacon:
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123 i love you READ NOW
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NOT BLOGS ETC

qwantz (dinosaur comix)
go fug yourself
the burg
cat and girl
book of ratings
married to the sea
icanhascheezburger
fire joe morgan
fivethirtyeight.com
READ NOW
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WEIRD LOVE

dead amusement pks
craters!


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Jeremy Broomfield



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PRAISE & REVIEWS

"[UD] is a genius."
--Christian Oates

"[Claudia] is fucking awesome, and [UD] is a genius. And vice versa. You should all buy Fear Not."
--Tricia Howey



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and here's something
weird: my place
in Humor 3-space

Wednesday, May 11, 2005
 
Today, some snips and snails, because I've neglected you again.
--------------------------------
Emblematic of why I hated summer camp and why I grew up to kinda hate other boys is a concept called Two for Flinching. Male readers who grew up in the savage wilds of America (i.e. outside New York City) will instantly shiver at the recollection, while hopefully my female readers will just quizzically wiggle their eyebrows and read on for edification. Basically, girls, Two for Flinching is a structured form of physical abuse disguised as "training" for some ambiguous future skill wherein one boy moves his fist as if to punch another boy in the face, but just stops short of making contact. If the dude with the face flinches (which action is defined variously along the continuum from a mere blink to a full-body cringe and yelp), then the guy who fake punched him get to FOR REAL punch him in the arm, twice. These punches are delivered with the spoken name of the custom for reinforcement: "Two for Flinching!" often followed by a Nelson-style "HENH-henh!" for good measure.
     Implied in TFF is the idea that in the future it will be useful to have suppressed your flinch reflex. This concept makes a world of sense to a certain kind of boy -- usually the kind of boy who by virtue of his height or strength is on the giving end of wedgies instead of the receiving end. Someone should do a study of the ways in which little boys hurt each other, the justifications, the explanations, the forms, the sublimated meanings -- I bet it would make a frothy cauldron of Freudian Stew (see the chapters on the Titty Twister and the Wet Willy, oh man!). But so anyway, the secret to Two for Flinching is that you cannot turn off a reflex, so if you're the kind of boy who has decided to go around your summer camp administering the Two for Flinching, you're gonna be punching a lot of arms. The only ways you won't get a 100% return rate on your test is if 1) your attack is too peripheral to actually engage the reflex -- at which point you just look like a dick sneaking up on somebody and missing with a suckerpunch, or 2) if you pretend that somebody didn't flinch because they're cooler than you and you want them to like you, so you act like you put your fist in their eyes and they didn't even blink, they look good in front of any others present, and maybe they'll repay you for the boost.
     What an amazing amount of stupidity. Maybe I'll do a Book of Ratings-style list of boyish playground abuses. Aargh. I just mentioned Two for Flinching to my coworker, and she'd never heard of it. After explaining it to her, I allowed that girls probably wouldn't play it because they are too busy being AWFUL: telling each other that they're fat; telling the homely girl that the cute boy has a crush on her and she should tell him she likes him too; telling their best friends that their ugliest dress looks great on them; planning parties by coming with lists of who they won't invite; calling a girl while secretly on three-way and getting her to trash the third one and then busting her for behind-back trash-talk; eating the hearts of kittens. While pondering this difference (which I acknowledge is not a news flash, even on this site) I came up with this pithy epigram:

Little boys hurt each other,
but little girls damage each other.


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Post-Modern Drunkard: "My actual birthday is May 20th, making me a Taurus on the cusp of coming over there to kick you in the shins if you mention astrology."
--------------------------------

A Play in Five Lines
(Lights up in an office in midtown Manhattan. The RECEPTIONIST is telling her coworker, UNIVERSAL DONOR, a story.)
     RECEPTIONIST: ...And then he didn't show up until eleven, and when he did he was drunk and he didn't even say he was sorry, and when we asked him why he was late, he was like "there was something with the subway" and this that and the other, and then he turns it around, like why we gotta hassle him, and runna nunna naa, and this, and the other, and it's like: c'mon already! It's my birthday. For once, could you, like, be a responsible adult mature man about it, for once. You know? (Long pause. She sighs heavily.)
     UNIVERSAL DONOR: (very tentatively) Yeah... he sounds like an asshole. I'm not sure why he's still a part of your life after everything he's done to you.
     RECEP: Hey! No, listen. He may be an asshole, but that's just who he is, okay? I'm not trying to change that. (Pause. UD sighs.) And he didn't like "do" shit to me, okay? I mean it takes two to tango, you know?
     UD: He's AN ASSHOLE.
     RECEP: Yeah. But that's just who he is. I can't get mad at him for being himself.

fin

--------------------------------
Finally, a made-up definition for a made-up thing:
Frosting Closet. A cool, dry, enclosure, often below ground, commonly built in Southern colonial houses to store frosting during the warm summer months.

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MY IMAGINARY GIRLFRIENDS

Chan Marshall
Rotem of the IDF
Eleanor Friedberger
Amy Goodman
Bernardine Dohrn ('69)
Maya Rudolph
Joanna Newsom
Imogen Heap
Caroline Dhavernas

Shana Rae Ray

DISALLOWED FOREVER

"I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you!"
-
"from whence"
-
"...the exception that proves the rule"
-
any use of the question "spit or swallow?"
-
the phrase "drop trou"
-
fake-o reviewer verbs:
"penned" for wrote
"helmed" for directed
"lensed" for whatever
-
"expat"
-
the euphemism
"passed away"
-
pronouncing merci beaucoup as "mercy buckets!"
(see also: "grassy-ass!")



PET PEEVES

"confinscated"
-
trying children "as adults"
-
"drownded"
-
misuse of reflexive pronouns, as when someone says "Please talk to Bob or myself." Come on people now. "Myself" is not just a fancy version of "me"! LEARN IT.
-
tattoos in the Courier font
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any use of Comic Sans