IMPORTANT NEWS BULLETIN!
At approximately
15:07 est, unknown hetrosexual terrorists seized control of the Daily
Buckman and ordered everyone out of the building. No demands have been
broadcast, but we will release more information as it becomes available.
Much like the revelation that Oz was all smoke and mirrors, photojournalists finally uncovered the 'smoking gun' that emphatically pointed to the obvious: Gatsby, celebrated writer and philanthropist, is a Gaylord. Stunned fans around the globe responded with a universal sentiment: why the charade? It was painfully obvious to over twenty thousand viewers when Gatsby arrived at the Tony awards with his man-servant, Claude "hot bod" Jean-Dodde. Another not-so-subtle clue was his apparent affinity for Argentinian boys- narrowly escaping prosecution in South America for breaking several local ordinances that listed "diddling" as a serious transgression.
No, in the end, it was Gatsby's flair for the dramatic that prompted the careless revelation of unpublished photographs from the early seventies to resurface. The pictures depict a young Gatsby (on the 'bottom', mustachioed) being tenderly held in the arms of what many believe to be his first and longest openly homosexual relationship: Gerard "let's go enlist" McFaggio. This scandalous photograph, taken at the reclusive writer's Greek villa in 1973, clearly shows the torment and sadness that was to swirl around the prolific author's life until 2005- the year that he closed the Daily Buckman and ultimately took his own life.
The hotel room where they found his body was bare; a single, scribbled note crumpled near the prone figure was all that was left. A haunting, tender passage:
"Tell Old Bug I'm sorry for all of the heartache and unfulfilled dreams, Mon Cherie Pu Pu. I hope that we can be together again in whatever life awaits us on the other side."
Beautiful, terrible and misunderstood- a fitting epitaph for a super-gay poet. The world mourns, even as the stock sinks to an all-time low.
SORRY TO BOTH OF YOU THAT READ THIS BAD BOY, BUT SERIOUS RESHAPING IS UNDERWAY AT THE DAILY BUCKMAN.
IN THE MEANTIME PLEASE ENJOY THE MULTITUDE OF PORN SITES AND POLITICAL BLOGS AVAILIBLE ON "THE INFORMATION SUPERHIGHWAY"
THIS HIATUS WILL BE BRIEF.
as old bug would say, "the revolution will not be televised"
WORD
i have that "sunshowers" song by M.I.A. stuck in my stupid head. it's all-
"You wanna go? / You wanna win a war? / Like PLO I don't surrendo ... Semi 9 and snipered him / On that wall they posted him / they cornered him / and then just murdered him."
it's like gwen stefani throwing a garbage can through a store window.
it's like phat "rich girl" cheerleader beats with lyrics by an angry revolutionary.
i highly suggest you find your eye patch and twenty minutes and pirate the hell out of her CD, "arular" or you could buy it sucker.
nothing is happening here at buckman.
slow news day.
we have a reporter that's been trying to quit the paper and get married and settle down that's stumbled onto a serial killer slated for execution tomorrow morning. she's hiding him in a piano...
this happens like, every thursday it seems.
there's a prehistoric shark throwing a fit in the lobby because somebody ran a quote of his about james cameron out of context.
terrorists have taken over the 32nd floor, but everybody knows they're just glorified bank robbers after the currency plates we have in the big buckman safe. whatever.
that guy that made the green glowing bio-enhanced bunny rabbit is threatening to jump form 41 if we don't return his rabbit, (that ain't gonna happen by the way since we ate it last night around 2:30 in the morning) but i really could care less. my "jump" time was 3:15 and it's what? 5:35? yeah i lost that pot, so...
dennis hopper's been prank calling all day. he keeps asking for commander kurtz and going on to say:
"what are they gonna say about him? what are they gonna say? that he was a kind man? that he was a wise man? that he had plans? that he had wisdom? bullshit man-" and he just keeps going and going; it was funny like, the first couple times, but it's been three steady months. it's just weird and pathetic now.
really it's been a very slow news day.
unbelievable.
someone has sewed old bug's tiny blue marble head onto the loose neckskin of his squeaky body.
terrified, that's what i'm not. please.
first of all, zombie week was last week. if you tuned in once in awhile old flug bug, you'd be aware of these particulars. if you are instead sneaking around with a skimask shrouding your stupid non-posting face- i'm not shaking in my boots.
and neither is vander. that woman is fixated on the issues. if i crane my neck i can see her in her office lovingly combing the fake hair of one of her porcelain dolls. yesterday i watched her talk to a caterpillar on the other side of her window for thirty minutes. she was telling it to jump. she even made little signs that said "jump!" and "no one loves you"... terrible.
and one note regarding security here at buckman- everybody knows the 23rd floor, a meager 6 floors from us, is haunted incessantly by the lost souls of suicidal 1930s wall street failures. there's broken glass everywhere up there, and the torn linen curtains, (which i've always thought was a decorating mistake) never stop blowing in the ghoulish winter winds. so, whatever with your terrifying account of dildoes, you weird fuck. i stayed late to finish a column earlier this year, and could barely hear myself think over the agonizing screams of the miserable dead; i doubt your cat burgler, screwdriver window opening, tip-toeing in footies style would cause an instant of notice.
so, back to my post.
my god, back to the intent of this misguided blog- product review and consumer advocacy.
today i'm looking at shotguns.
i will title the post "bang for your buck" and snicker to myself at how clever i am.
but first i'm going to stir the oil warming in the cauldron near my window; i don't want to scorch it.
(At first, there is the tranquil, idyllic silence that is the
soundtrack of all gentle nights. A slight gust of wind that meanders
through the window, perhaps ruffling the curtains a bit. Nothing seems
to be out of the ordinary, after all. Except for that faint...squeak.
Was it upstairs? Was it the wind, tapping an errant branch against a
locked window? Was the window even locked? There it is again- that
muted, almost sneaky sound. The sound is unmistakably that of
someone, or something 
breaking their way into the unprotected sanctity
of your house. Oh, we should have bought a gun. We should have
triggered the alarm. Did the neighbors hear anything? Would they hear
anything? No, no, the time for making bad decisions was behind us. The
worst one, unceremoniously dumping Old Bug from this site, had already
been committed. Some things couldn't be undone. Was it him? Was he
creeping in through an opening somewhere, with his bag of depraved
devices to insert into every inviting orifice? You bet your ass he
was. To paraphrase Alice Cooper, it's no more Mr. Nice Guy, you
sniveling malcontents. Don't try to pull the covers over your head- Bug
is here- hell, he never left.)
Then there is the chilling sound of static- irrefutable....final. The radio's back on, and the first transmission is going to be a doozy, kids.
-gatsby-
i'm so stoked! the buckman quarterly report has trickled down to us columnists and the only person fired was old bug!!
what an incredible day.
the war was a miserable failure, our zombie phase was related without on ounce of discernable effort, and so far "great moments in cinema" has only consisted of a single moment that had nothing to do with cinema.
so this morning in the quad they dragged old bug up to the guillotine and WHOMP!
his head, (which only weighed 3 pounds, is that weird? i think so) rolled into a hand woven basket that will be gussied up with a nice ribbon and given to his parents.
charming.
AND, his replacement was eagerly boxing up his disgusting personal effects when i returned to our offices on the 17th floor. her name is vander. she's a very pretty girl; roberto, our mailroom guy, told me that he's sleeping with her already, but he said that about bug too. (some people will stay in the mailroom for their entire life!) she has a framed poster of "kristin" from "sex in the city", and more squeezy stress toys than i've ever seen in a single place at once.
here's her first post:
-vander-
Gatsby?… Oh, Gatsby? Are you home?
Oh, there you are you sweet thing. I just came from mother's and she
was just all aflutter over the latest news. You know mother, anything
that is new fangled and sparkly. She just received information on one
of those high-falutin Rascal's from The Scooter Store. She has wanted to go on that Vegas
trip with her girlfriend Reba forEVER and if she gets approved for her
scooter she can go. She is so excited. She's already talking about
their matching sequined running suits with whimsical visors and fanny
packs to carry their nickels for the slots.
Won't they be a sight for sore eyes?
She also gave me a rationing about not accepting Brother Gabriel's
invitation to this Sunday's potluck dinner.
Oh Gastby, what am I ever to do? I know she is embarrassed that I am
still single and living at home. She says if I don't get these crazy
notions out of my head I will never land a man.
Let me tell you about my latest idea. I have this girlfriend who has
heard of this company where women can sell makeup to other women… get
this… with out going to the store. I could work for myself! I could
have a job! My girlfriend went to talk to her husband about her ideas
that she could be both a wife and a breadwinner. Once her bruises
faded we researched this company called Mary Kay and found this
product called Indulge™ Soothing Eye Gel.
I know who my first customer could be too! Have you seen that
commercial on the teevee of Bill Clinton and George Bush? Old Billy
Boy could use a vat of that Soothing Eye Gel for sure!
-counterpoint gatsby-
she's crazy huh?
i like the way she's pretending to know me. she's just jumping into her work. very professional.
not like old bug who was always trying to borrow money from me.
i'm very excited about vander, may no man smote asunder what god has brought together or something like that. i think she's from texas.
lovely.
-MONDAY FUNNIES-
