Our lawyers recently discovered that due to Section 18, Amendment C of state law, monsters are not allowed within the city limits of Denver. Project Blueberry is temporarily suspended until further notice. I repeat: Project Blueberry is temporarily suspended. Special thanks this week go to: Dennis "Corin Tucker's Stalker" Farrell and Jason "Vengeance Otter" Johnson.
Are you tired of something going wrong when you do something with other products? Tired of the family shaking their heads and frowning in distaste? Of course, we all are! Well there's no need to fret or take medication to combat the harsh realities of life that you're too weak to handle, because we have the solution! You can throw out all the things you used to use right now and buy the Vague-O-Tron! It practically does everything you'd expect, and more if you were expecting less than that!
It's useful around the house, at the ballgame, or even on a romantic night when the kids are tucked into bed and you've drank enough martinis to temporarily forget the years of indifference and passive-agression your partner is responsible for! I guess that's technically "around the house" too, but you have to give me a little creative freedom here folks.
Brightly colored graphs which we've conveniently lost prove that the Vague-O-Tron outperforms all others by a ratio of nearly 1:1! It's just that amazing! What's that smell? That's the smell of paradigms shifting! Or maybe it's thinking outside of the box, I'm not really up to par on my buzzword smells. But wait, there's more! When you buy the Vague-O-Tron, you'll also get the pocket-sized 'What's This? Buddy' and three spray bottles of 'Liquid Of Questionable Origin'. If you don't buy the Vague-O-Tron right now, we'll even throw in the adjustable crankshaft-to-ankle stirrup converter free of charge.
Dr. L. Brynner 3: First Blood
It appears that our very own resident Psychologist, Dr. L. Brynner, has earned himself a well-deserved “thank you” letter from a woman happy with the therapeutical services he's provided for her ADD inflicted child. She was so happy that she bypassed regular channels and wrote directly to our CEO, Dennis “Corin Tucker’s Stalker” Farrell, who is always happy to receive such letters, despite several occurances in the past of faking his own death and taking on a new identity specifically to avoid getting such letters.
Dear Mr. Farrell,
After several teachers told me they suspected my son, Mike, suffered Attention Deficiency Disorder (ADD), I made an appointment for my son to see the alleged “Doctor” L. Brynner. I was initially happy, because, according to his ad in the Yellow Pages, he was one of the few psychologists willing to make house calls at no extra charge. I later learned the reason for this was because he was already driving around the city, giving therapy sessions between deliveries for Domino's Pizza – his uniform being my first clue.
Still desperate to help my child, I decided to give Brynner a chance, and after their private session, I later asked my son what he learned from the therapy. He told me he learned how to make a shank out of a toothbrush and a replica pistol using a bar of soap and shoe polish! I immediately called Dr Brynner, who answered my call pretending to be the answering service for Colombian coffee magnate, Juan Valdez. We had a shouting match for nearly half an hour in which he pretended not to speak English, but insisted (in English, I might add) that I needed to stop speaking my “crazy Tommy language” and speak to him in “Columbian.”
In my anger I yelled that I never wanted Brynner to see, let alone treat, my Mike again, then hung up and quickly went to retreive my attorney’s phone number from my home office. When I opened the door, Brynner was standing there atop my desk, holding a cell phone in one hand and pointing accusingly me at me with the other.
“You ungrateful ingrate!", he screamed. "Instead of lying to you about being able to cure your urchin's condition or sugar coating the obvious direction his life was undeniably heading, I helped him prepare for his term as a long term guest in one of our nation's fine penetenteries! How dare you play God with your precious child’s future, madam? Surely, legendary funk bassist and vocalist, Boosty Collins, must be spinning around in his grave right now at sixty, maybe seventy, RPMs! I can hear him now! He’s crying, ‘Let me out of this coffin! I’m not dead, baby!’ ”
I grabbed my son and fled the house crying.
On behalf of all mothers, I demand that you fire this man.
We at State Og are never too busy nor too drunk to answer our correspondence in a quick and courteous manner:
Dear Ass-Cheese Eating Jizzmuffler,
It is I, Dr. L. Brynner! Before you even think of going over my head again and writing to my boss, please keep in mind that every morning I drug Dennis “Corndog Lockers” Farrell’s bowl of Lucky Charms and go through his mail looking for this sort of unfounded negativity which could possibly upset his delicate psyche. It’s my way of protecting my boss from getting upset in a way similar to how drugged milk is used by the A-Team to get Mr. T on to an airplane and later, during the flight, make him an unknowing member of the Mile High Club, if you know what I mean. (That and I like looking at the Playboy magazines Farrell has a subscription to, before he has a chance to paste cutouts of Dick Cheney’s head over the faces of the models.)
You may be willing to cut your son’s therapy with me short, but let it be known the only things I, Dr. L. Brynner, cut short are the bits of gasoline soaked rags I shove down the throats of those who cross me. And once I'm satisfied I've packed them in fully to the brim of their gullets, I toss a lit match in their mouths.
Another thing, who keeps putting the pictures of Kelsey Grammer up along side all newsletter articles involving me? I look nothing like Kelsey Grammer and I want that person who is doing this to know that he’s next on my Human Molotov Cocktail List…
Well, we have to stop showing you his letter at this point, because Dr. L. Brynner really starts to lose it. Tune in next week to find out if Brynner is able to figure out Dennis Farrell has been putting aggression-stimulating drugs in his breakfast cereal!- State Og Representative
If you are 35 and you are not integrated into the Gigathrax then you are not ready to retire.
While designing this space, I imagined David Fincher being forced to recreate the music video for Nine Inch Nails' Closer in a haunted gas station bathroom.
My game is funded. Now I know everything.
State Og... what is it? Who knows! Where do they operate? No clue! All we know is they're fairly evil, and nobody dares question the might of State Og!