Tips for the Young Writer: Plot Development!

Have you ever heard anyone say, ‘I know I could be a great Heart Transplanter if I could just find the time for it.’? Probably not. Here’s why. ‘transplanter’ is not really a word. Also, suppose you won the lottery. You no longer have to work, you can hire a fat British woman to keep your kids the hell away and why would your spouse nag you when he or she could be out shopping or gambling or drifting into a coma in some Chinese Opium Den or whatever the hell they’d do if they had a lot of money all of a sudden? SO. Now you’re free and clear to do the Great American Heart Transplant you always knew you had in you. Seven hours later you’ve got a hell of a mess on your hands and an opened up dead guy on your kitchen table. Now don’t get all panicky and call your lawyer, none of this is going to happen, because everybody knows you can’t transplant a heart without years and years of study. So why the hell does every stupid-ass Joe-sixpack crank think the only thing stopping them from writing well is a LACK OF TIME?!

So before you go and unleash the literary equivalent of a kitchen table full of dead guy with a cracked open chest cavity upon an unsuspecting public, just hold your damn horses for a second and let me learn you up a little on writing good.

Okay, lets say you’ve dreamed up some great characters. You’ve got a debonair young spy with a bionic arm and a gorgeous red headed nuclear scientist who wears glasses but later takes them off, revealing a ferocious and inventive appetite for ‘unusual’ intercourse. Sounds great, right? Off to Best Seller Town on the Rich Celebrity Writer Express!


No matter how awesome those characters are, (And they are MY intellectual property so don’t even think about it, I have been in prison and I know a lot of ways to seriously ‘upset’ your ‘apple cart’ which you will definitely not care for). Characters alone do not a story make. They have to have something to do. And that ‘do’ is called ‘plot’.

A plot is a causal sequence of events, the ‘why’ for the things that happen in the story. The plot draws the reader into the character’s lives and helps the reader understand the choices that the characters make. Sure, we know the debonair young spy with a bionic arm and the gorgeous red headed nuclear scientist who once her glasses are off turns out to enjoy some heretofore unheard of but very specific activities are going to go ‘sheet spelunking’, but if we don’t know what leads up to it, if indeed we cut straight to that sheet spelunking and that’s all there is, that’s just porn. And that’s a different lesson.

Western narrative tradition demands that every plot contain four essential building blocks or ‘chunks’, if you will. Exposition, Complication, Climax and Resolution. Why call them ‘chunks’ and not simply ‘building blocks’? Simple. I am paid by the word. Wait, ‘building blocks’ is two words. Damn. Lets take our ‘building blocks’ one at a time, shall we?

Exposition is the information needed to understand the story. How will our reader know that our gorgeous red headed nuclear scientist has a ferocious and inventive appetite for ‘unusual’ intercourse? Simply because she is ‘stacked’? No! Firstly, I never even mentioned that, you just assumed it! Secondly, stackedness is descriptive not expository and also so what? That’s your thing, not mine. Now if we write:
“I see you’ve noticed my large bust,” said the gorgeous red headed nuclear scientist, running a finger suggestively around the rim of her Appletini. “I had them medically enlarged to enhance my sexcapades. Inventive, no? And by the way, I like my sexcapades… unusual.”
Suddenly, a simple description of physical attributes becomes… EXPOSITION!

“Say,” the debonair spy said, picking the cherry out of his Manhattan with the metallic fingers at the end of his bionic arm. “Wanna blow this upholstered Men’s room and go have intercourse somewhere?” Which is exactly what they-

Wait a second there, buddy boy! Sure, your readers wants to get straight to the ‘Motel hijinks’! But if you give people what they want right away, they’ll never value it! That’s why on the rare occasions you go home from a night of successful though shameful date prospecting, when you wake up the next morning, you’re revolted. Now I know I’ve used a sex metaphor to explain a sexual plot device in a sex story, but come on, would you even be listening otherwise?

Something has to get in the way of our hero getting his way! That’s the complication! See how easy it is to remember? The complication complicates the story! Now, what’s going to get in the way of our debonair spy ‘Gittin’ his Black Ops on’? Okay, I brainstormed and what I came up with was an evil robot eagle with a lisp.

“Not tho fatht, Mithter Thpy!” the evil robot eagle lithped, hoithting the gorgeouth red headed nuclear thientitht towardth the thieling in one glithening talon.

Actually, you don’t really need to have the narrator lisp. In fact, it’s probably inadvisable. Plus it drives your spell-check whacky. My monitor is so red and green right now I’m LOOKING FOR PRESENTS!… Under the tree. ‘Cause red and green are Christmas colors. In addition to being the colors of the wavy lines underneath words and phrases thought to be errors of grammar or spelling by the particular… word processing program… I’m using.

I know what you’re thinking and it’s not just wrong, it’s naughty. The climax isn’t a climax, which is to say it should be, but not that kind. If there’s a lot of screaming and yelling and your parents burst into the room and later you have to go to a special summer camp, it’s the wrong kind of climax. Or maybe that’s just me. In literature, on the other hand, the climax is the turning point in the story that occurs when characters resolve the complication.

“What that evil robot eagle didn’t know,” said the debonair spy, tossing the no longer power producing battery pack into the air and catching it in the cyborg hand at the end of his bionic arm, “Is that I knew where his battery pack was.”

Now that we have seen the Debonair Spy and the Gorgeous Red Headed Nuclear Scientist meet up in a bar, (you did get it was a bar, right, and not actually a men’s bathroom with upholstered toilets? ‘Cause there’s no such thing as one of those.), Now that we have learned of our Scientist’s feisty ways regarding ‘Wigwam Shenanigans’, now that we have encountered our complicated complication (and everybody knows how complicated robots are) and bested it, we can have our resolution! YES! Now, finally, at last, we have reached the long awaited moment when our characters can attend the ‘Genital Rodeo’!

“Why don’t you take a picture of my bust?” The Gorgeous Red Headed Nuclear Scientist husked languidly, “They’ll last longer.”
“Gladly,” the debonair spy said, the fingers on the hand of his bionic arm turning off the motel room light.

The End.

Oh, don’t be sore! Imagine it yourself, I don’t get paid enough to do it for you. (This is a factually accurate statement. Most prostitutes, even really bad ones, make more money than aspiring writers) And besides, I already got you to read the whole thing and left you wanting more. So when the sequel comes out you’ll pay Amazon extra for overnight delivery to see if I eventually describe what ‘intercourse’ is actually ‘like’.

That’s what a good plot does. Keeps the reader turnin’ them pages like one of Pavlov’s dog’s hearing a bell ring and automatically turning the pages of the dog book it’s reading. And now you know everything you need to know to write good plots of your own. So flake off. I have things I need to imagine.


The Max Burbank 150 Point Have You/Haven’t You List.

Say gang! Here’s a really growthful way to waste time, especially at work where you can get paid for it! You know those ‘have you/haven’t you’ lists? The ones you’re supposed to look at and check off stuff you’ve done to get a sense of what you’ve experienced in life and what you haven’t, or maybe wouldn’t? They’re great! They really make you think about all the stuff you might not get to do before you die! Anyway, that’s how they make me feel. But then I thought, hey, why not write my own list that has lots of stuff on it I’ve already done, and that way if I die on my way home from work tomorrow at least I won’t feel so futile and useless at the end!
1. Bought everyone in the bar a drink.
2. Swam with wild dolphins.
3. Climbed a mountain.
4. Taken a Ferrari for a test drive.
5. Been inside a pyramid.
6. Held a tarantula.
7. Taken a candlelit bath with someone.
8. Said, “I love you” and meant it.
9. Hugged a tree.
10. Said “Cow” over and over for days and didn’t say anything else.
11. Visited Paris.
12. Watched a lightning storm at sea.
13. Stayed up all night long and saw the sun rise.
14. Stayed up all night long and watched the northern lights.
15. Stayed up all night and watched the wall of a Mexican drunk tank.
16. Hidden in the stairwell of your workplace until they closed.
17. Shaved someone’s beard against their will.
18. Legally changed your name to Festus Nutkick.
19. Slept under the stars.
20. Changed a baby’s diaper.
21. Explained to a complete stranger why you changed their baby’s diaper.
22. Stolen a baby and replaced it with an ice sculpture of Nipsey Russell.
23. Had a blackout.
24. Had a flashback.
25. Had a flashablackout.
26. Had an uncontrollable giggling fit while kidnapping a monkey.
27. Kissed a total stranger.
28. Bet on a winning horse and then blown your winnings on what later turned out to be a skilled forgery of a some real famous painting of a nude fatty lounging on a sofa attended by folks who now that you think about it are almost certainly slaves.
29. Asked out a total stranger.
30. Had a snowball fight.
31. Screamed as loudly as you possibly could during an audience with the Pope.
32. Held a Monkey.
33. Seen a total eclipse.
34. Ridden a roller coaster with former secretary of state, Cyrus Vance.
35. Claimed repeatedly to have a hook hand when it’s quite clear you don’t.
36. Danced like a fool and not cared who was looking.
37. Sipped Box Wine from the eye socket of an unconscious pirate.
38. Actually felt happy about your life, even for just a God Damn instant.
39. Thought you had ‘danced with the devil by the pale moonlight’ but then realized it was just a case of ‘dancing by myself.’
40. Hijacked a school bus full of Nuns and orphans.
41. Danced with a total stranger.
42. Disposed of the corpse of a close friend at a Dog Food factory.
43. Danced with a total stranger in a foreign country against their will.
44. Watched wild Monkeys.
45. Stole a human organ.
46. Backpacked in Europe.
47. Backpacked in Europe but this time your backpack was filled with human heads.
48. Gone rock climbing to escape Monkeys.
49. Midnight walk on the beach with Monkeys.
50. Gone skydiving.
51. Okay, with Monkeys.
52. Been heartbroken longer than you were actually in love and then done stuff that got you a restraining order and then broken that restraining order, gone to jail and been busted out BY MONKEYS!
53. In a restaurant, sat at a total stranger’s table and had a meal with them against their will.
54. Converted someone.
55. Milked a cow against its will.
56. Milked a Monkey, consensually, pretty much.
57. Legally changed your name to Cletus McHnadsinpants.
58. Sung karaoke in a fancy restaurant that doesn’t have karaoke.
59. Lounged around in bed all day nursing the kind of hangover that could kill an entire small town.
60. Played “touch” football.
61. Kissed a total stranger in the rain.
62. Kissed a total stranger on public transportation who you seriously hope was passed out, ‘cause otherwise you maybe kissed a dead person.
63. Danced in the rain.
64. Made love in the rain.
65. Done 63 or 64, but this time not alone.
66. Visited the Great Wall of China.
67. Caused an international incident.
68. Become so famous someone shot you to impress a movie star they thought they had a relationship with and while you lay there bleeding out the last thing you heard on earth was them saying “Oh, wait, I remember, I don’t even know that person I thought killing you would impress.”
69. Improperly used a big word at a cocktail party over and over.
70. Washed down Oxycontin with rubbing alcohol.
71. Shot a man for snoring.
72. Got married.
73. Been in a movie.
74. Been in a movie about the life of Proust in which you played a nice serving of whitefish.
75. Got divorced.
76. Been in another movie about the life of Proust in which you reprised the role of a nice serving of whitefish but forgot all your lines until you woke up and realized it was just a classic actor’s nightmare.
77. Made cookies from scratch.
78. Got remarried to the women you’d divorced.
79. Ridden a Gigolo in Venice until someone informed you Gigolos are male prostitutes not water taxis.
80. Smoked hashish with Sufi’s in the Hindu Kesh, probably.
81. Rafted the Snake River on a raft made of the inflated corpses of a THOUSAND MONKEY WARRIORS!
82. Been on a television news programs as an “expert” on “Monkeys”.
83. Had your Doctor say “I thought that social disease was extinct!”
84. Performed on stage.
85. Performed on stage in Vegas.
86. Performed on stage in Vegas with Wayne Newton.
87. Performed on stage in Vegas with Wayne Newton against his will.
88. Performed on stage in Vegas with Wayne Newton against his MONKEY MONKEY MONKEY NO BAD MONKEY!!
89. Legally changed your name to some funny gag name that in no way had the word ‘monkey’ in it.
90. Bought a house only to discover it was a Monkey house, and then your realtor unzips his rubber suit and it’s a Monkey.
91. Been to Paradise, but not to me.
92. Buried one/both of your parents.
93. Buried one/both of your parents after they were dead.
94. Spoken in tongues.
95. Spoken in tongues about yes, yes, MONKEYS, I MEAN WHAT ELSE?!
96. Raised children.
97. Lowered children.
98. Beat Wilfred Brimley to death… with a Monkey!
99. Apologized to parents about the whole burying them thing.
100. Picked up and moved to another city to just start over and not because you were on the ‘lam’.
101. Walked the golden gate bridge holding hands with a hybrid Monkey Girl.
102. Sang loudly in the car, and didn’t stop when you knew someone in another car was looking and then gone into road rage and killed the other person with one of those textured mallets butchers use.
103. Had plastic surgery so the Monkeys wouldn’t be able to recognize you.
104. Survived an accident that you shouldn’t have survived that was planned by the government because you know too much.
105. Painted your toenails alone in a Motel Six.
106. Lost over 100 pounds.
107. Removed over 100 pounds from someone else.
108. Grown to fifty feet and gone on a mental rampage.
109. Exhumed Frank Sinatra just to dance the ‘Hootchy Koo.’
110. Broke someone’s heart, literally.
111. Helped an animal give birth that was not a Monkey.
112. Embraced the Dark Lord.
113. Played ‘find the candycorn in my pocket’ with a drunken Lester Holt.
114. Adopted a baby against its will.
115. Slapped the bad place ’till you passed out.
116. Fired a rifle, shotgun, or pistol at President Lincoln.
117. Eaten mushrooms that were gathered in the wild.
118. Ridden a horse.
119. Had major surgery from a MONKEY DOCTOR!
120. Come back from the dead with treats for everyone.
121. Hiked to the bottom of the Grand Canyon.
122. Slept for more than 47 hours over the course of 48 hours.
123. Did everything Hemingway did, including writing all his books and blowing your brains out.
124. Visited all 7 continents during a blackout.
125. Taken a canoe trip that lasted more than 2 days that didn’t involve disposing of victims’ remains.
126. Eaten kangaroo meat against its will.
127. Had President Taft for a spirit guide.
128. Enjoyed “Star Trek Voyager” until you realized that was a physical impossibility.
129. Changed someone’s mind about something you care deeply about, but did it by playing the nose flute.
130. Gone back to pre-school.
131. Parasailed.
132. Touched a cockroach while Parasailing just so you could check off two things on this fuckin’ list at once.
133. Eaten fried green tomatoes from the eye socket of an unconscious pirate.
134. Read the Iliad.
135. Selected one “important” author who you’d never read in school, tracked him down and forced them to dress as a monkey and dance while you ground an organ.
136. Spent a chunk of time trying to figure out a non-confusing verb to use to describe what an organ grinder does that implies the playing of an instrument and not the grinding of actual organs.
137. Skipped all your school reunions, unless you count the ones that could be seen through a telescopic lens, which made it almost like being there.
138. Communicated with someone without sharing a common spoken language and without using the universal languages of unprovoked slapping.
139. Been elected to public office BY MONKEYS!
140. Written your own computer language and then the computers take over earth and enslave humanity and it’s your fault.
141. Lived out your dream about taking a math test with no pants on.
142. Had to put someone you love into a nursing home. Okay, not ‘had to’ per se.
143. Set fire to one of the seven modern wonders of the world.
144. Eaten nothing but American cheese until it took you to the edge of death.
145. Had a booth at a street fair featuring things so unspeakable you’ll be in prison without the possibility of parole for the rest of your life.
146. Dyed your hair.
149. Made mad, passionate unbridled love outdoors with the Pope against while Monkeys filmed it for later broadcast on YouTube.
150. Monkeys.

Most Popularest Baby Names!

As the demographic of my audience ages, there are bound to be changes in both readership and content. Gone will be the salad days of yore when readers could gambol about freely enjoying articles on 80’s video games, ‘hating’ on various ‘scenes’ and trying to find out what the hell ‘salad days’ are. You may already be finding more seriouser matters taking up the time you once spent working on a keen ride for the pine box derby, trying to find a date for the Junior Formal and buttonholing the old man for a hand out and the car keys. Why, by the time you read this, buttonholing old men may be illegal in most states!

Take a moment and look to your left. That sweet little girl next door it seems like you were goin’ steady with just last week sure is bigger than she used to be. Maybe you conveniently ‘forgot’ while you were ‘sittin’ in a tree that while K-I-S-S-I-N-G can be a whole lot of un, it is invariably followed by love, marriage and a baby carriage, which it turns out is not a replacement backpack for the weak spined gentleman. Your bride is going to have a baby, and statistically speaking, there’s a reasonable chance it’s yours!

This is a baby. You are in some serious trouble.

I guess it’s too late to tell you that when a Mommy and Daddy love each other very much, some pretty terrible things can happen, one of which is children. That horse has already left the train station and there’s no use closing the barn door either, because you burned that door when you got married without protection at an extended metaphor which inexplicably contained both trains and horses.

You have no one to blame but yourself, but don’t worry! In less than nine months you’ll have someone to blame for the rest of your life and for about the first fifteen years (twelve in your case) they won’t be able to take you in a fight!

But you can’t blame somebody if they don’t have a name! Don’t you wish you’d thought of that before you got yours? Now the pressure is on. How to decide? There are literally SEVEN HUNDRED AND SIXTEEN NAMES OUT THERE! How do you pick the one that will grate on your nerves the least once you’ve said it several million times, usually in conjunction with phrases like “Your finger doesn’t go there”,” That’s not what God made the cat for!” and “Must you set everything on fire?”

Luckily for you, I’m here! No, not your computer, me, ME the actual living human being who created this content! I’m a real person with real feelings and emotions and needs, but that’s not what you came here for is it? No, all you want are the damn BABY NAMES! Which is good, because if you were looking for duck hunting tips, you’d be in the wrong article.

This baby got named ‘Dave’. Know what he has in common with all the other babies named Dave? He hates his parents.

Nothing rankles worse than thinking you picked out a unique name for your baby and then finding out half the kids in the day care answer to the same moniker! Here are last years most popularest names so you can avoid them.
Boy Baby Names:

Girl Baby Names

Names for babies who do not wish to have their gender preference determined for them by their parents Baby Names
(sound of Velcro)

Quick! Think of a name for this baby! Got one? Great! Seventeen million people just named their baby the same thing. No wonder she’s crying.

But wait, you say! So I avoid last year’s most popularest names and then end up giving the offspring some name that turns out to be one of THIS years most popularest! Lucky for you, Modern computer science makes predictamacation far more easier namewise than it was back when your parents named you and all your siblings ‘Pete’. Here’s what researchers tell us will be…


Boy Baby Names
Mr. Stu
Slam Baxter
The Five Fingers of Death

Girl Baby Names
The Clencher
Friggin’ Sophia

Dangerous Mutant Baby Names

This Baby got named Sarah, a nice middle of the road utility name that will doom her to a life of sheepish insignificance

In recent years there has been a growing tendency amongst Filthy Hippies, Celebrities and Hipster Dad’s with nasty little soul patches and too small hats who say they are ‘feminists’ but also think they get exclusive rights to baby naming ‘cause their ideas are so ‘cool’ to think they can avoid the perils of baby naming by making up new names. While amusing to parents, someday ‘Apple’ Paltrow is going to fill a pillowcase with cans of Fanta and beat her mother to death with it. ‘North’ West will do much the same thing, but not because of her name which is really the least of her worries. In addition, the people most likely to think saddling a baby with a unique name is a good idea are the same people who are most likely to come up with a unique name being chosen at the exact same moment by dozens of other idiot parents just like them. So, in closing, I give you a list of seemingly unique baby names you should STAY THE HELL AWAY FROM because people are going to use them.

Boy Baby Names
New Mexico
Any name with a number where a letter should be
Ham Salad
Any name preceded by the words ‘The Amazing’

Girl Baby Names
Anything in text message shorthand

Unisex Baby Names
Sky Puppy
Universal Joint

This baby is named Lester. He wants you to go away.

A Recent Anxiety Dream

I had a dream last night and in it I had to tell you something but I 
couldn’t because I had to go on a mission.

I was me, but I was also Aqualad, and the Teen Titans were going on a
 mission and I had to go too. But the thing was, I hadn’t been around 
all that much lately. I’d kind of been bagging on the missions a lot
 because of family and stuff, but this time they really needed me and it
 seemed important so I was going and whatever it was I had to tell you 
had to wait.

But the costume in my locker at HQ is old. It shrunk or I grew or
something, I don’t know, maybe I put on weight. It was difficult to
get the bathing trunks part of the costume past my thighs.

Kid Flash keeps going: “What the hell is wrong with you? We have to go, do you understand, GO. What don’t you understand about GO?”

And I’m all: “You guys go ahead, I’ll catch up.”

I’m alone in the locker room, and this costume just does not fit. And I don’t have another one with me. It’s too tight and it kind of grabs my area and displays it, there is no way I can go fight crime in this outfit.

So I’m sitting there on this bench and I’m totally uncomfortable because the trunks are very binding. They’re creeping up my ass at this point and I realize:

A.) I don’t remember what you and I needed to talk about anymore,

B.) My street clothes are no longer here.

I think Robin the Boy Wonder clipped them because he’s all stuck up and a complete bastard.

I think about taking a swim. They have a seawater pool for me at
the HQ. For me. Because I’m Aqualad, and I have to go in the water regularly or I… like… dry out or something.

I start feeling guilty that they maintain this pool which has to be expensive and I’m around so infrequently the costume I keep here barely goes over my huge thighs. I’m filled with revulsion for my body, particularly my thighs which are very pale and covered with coarse black hair. I think about how Kid Flash is always calling me a woman, which is totally sexist, and he doesn’t even care that Wonder Girl is right there and sometimes she sticks up for me and that just makes it more awful.

All I know is I’ve forgotten the important thing I had to talk to you
about and I can’t go on this mission because my costume doesn’t fit and I have huge, hairy, white thighs and each hair has a little dimpled hump of flesh at it’s base and each dimple seems just slightly inflamed. There are literally thousands of pitch black hairs on my paper white thighs, literally thousands of tiny dimpled slightly inflamed humps of flesh. I look at them and look at them until I feel like I am in a piper club flying over a vast, terrifyingly ugly landscape.

And then I woke up and it was still dark. I wanted to wake you up and tell you about the dream, which wasn’t funny while I was dreaming it but seemed kind of funny now.

But then I remember when I told you the Lucy Lawless dream and you wanted to know if I had any shame — which is what they asked Senator McCarthy right before his whole deal went south — so I just kind of lay there in the dark.

The sheets were damp. I thought I could smell the sea through the
bedside window. I wondered if I could fall back to sleep before the alarm goes off. I wondered if was worth it.

The Max Burbank Broadsheet

Why look! It’s an (almost) entirely visual post! But pretty much unreadable because it’s too small. Don’t worry! Just ‘click’ on the image and it will magically become ‘larger’. In a ‘window’! I’d make it larger without all that ‘clicking’, but I can’t, because I’m too ‘stupid’. And I think that the fact you have to ‘do’ something in order to read the text in this post will make you enjoy it even more. Because it’s ‘interactive’. And multiple studies show that people ‘like’ the ‘internet’ because it is ‘interactive.’. So ‘click’, already. Or don’t. If you’ve gotten this far you register on my ‘stats’ wether you ‘click’ or not. And my ‘stats’ are pretty much all I care about. Because in addition to being ‘stupid’, I’m also reasonably ‘shallow’.

broadsheet edit
broadsheet 2

Happy New Year, 2015!

Oh, boy, here comes the New Year! A totally arbitrary brand new start! A chance to be all clean and new and shed of all the sins of the past year, as innocent as a new born babe or a Catholic spouse abuser just fresh from confession if my reasonably ill informed understanding of Catholicism is correct, which based on the actions of the super cool new Pope it almost certainly is not!

In 2015 I’m going to get fit and lose the last of that damn weight! I’ll eat healthy and exercise, even though I won’t join a health club or even the YMCA because I’m still too poor to afford either of those things even though the wife and I both work full time jobs, so heck, I wouldn’t have time anyway! But I’m totally going to speedwalk from whatever pointless thing I’m doing to the boss’s office whenever he yells for me to tell me I better get on that pointless thing I was doing until he started yelling for me! Speedwalking and repressed rage are a great way to get that heart rate up!

I’m going to spend more time with my kids and it’s going to be quality time! They’re getting older every day and I can’t afford to miss one second of this precious time, and I’m seriously going to cut down on using words around them like “no”, “don’t”, “Quit that”, “Annoying”, “Naughty”, “Little bastards” and anything that starts with unintelligible shrieking and salty language! And I’m going to be way, way more patient with the wife, because she deserves it and when I feel a little angry I’ll just take a deep breath and count to ten, because at their core all marriages are a mutual agreement to jointly crush your dreams until they can be slid under a door and forgotten, and the whole process is just as heinous for her as it is for you!

And I will not enter 2015 so drunk I climb up on the coffee table in only my underwear and beg God to tell me why my life is so unbearable, like I did in 2014. For Gods sake, the kids have been staying up ‘till midnight since they were three, they don’t need to see that kind of shenanigans from their own father, at least not ‘till I loose the last of that damn weight.

Oh, and I’m going to stop sleeping at work. And surfing for non work related matters of adult interest. And pleasuring myself! Good Jesus, I have GOT to stop pleasuring myself at work, for GOD’S SAKE; sooner or later someone is going to catch me and what the HELL am I going to say?! “Sorry for pleasuring myself at work?” JESUS CHRIST!

And the constant crying has got to go; sure, sure I know sensitive men are allowed to cry, but not like this, not constantly, inappropriately, publicly, and Ditto on the sudden, bellowed curses! And no more stripping down to my underwear and crying and cursing AT WORK!

And I’ll watch less TV and do the dishes right after dinner and not let the recycling build up on the porch week after week until you can’t see out the windows anymore and there’s no point in taking it out on recycling day, because there’s TOO MUCH OF IT, THERE’S NOTHING TO DO BUT ADD TO THE PILE, just like that guy who had that crematorium in Georgia who never got around to cremating anyone and they found all these decaying bodies stacked up in his woodshed and all over the back yard, except it’s old newspapers and cans and bottles instead of corpses but it’s essentially the SAME DAMN THING, it’s ONE STEP REMOVED!

And I will try to stop talking about Death all the time, Death, it’s inescapability, how all becoming is essentially decay! In 2015, I WILL stop my incessant, morbid, chilling, constant infatuation with the Grim Reaper especially while teaching Sunday School which anyone could have told you was a disastrous mistake to let me do!


And do the laundry more often. And vacuum every once in a while. And that pleasuring myself at work thing. I can’t say enough how much that one needs to go.

Because 2015 is going to be a great year. Not like that 2014, which will go down in history as the suckiest damn suck year ever on record. Screw you, 2014. Screw you.

2015 is going to be the year my ship comes in. And it’s going to be a big ass ship, full of all kinds amazing cargo with my name on it, and it’s not going to inexplicably sink in shark infested waters killing everyone on board not to mention taking my cargo, MY CARGO, straight to Davey GOD DAMN Jones! Wasn’t ‘Day Dream Believer’ going platinum enough for that little Limey bastard? There, see how I did that? That’s the kind of comedy gold you’ll be seeing here in 2015. Shut up dream stealer.

Happy New year.