Guest Post: Representative John Jakobs

Hello, Mr. joem18b. I’m making this guest post as a thank you for the help you rendered me on my recent Hollywood junket.

You ask, what are my three favorite films?

Well, I like the one where the family man is falsely accused. His wife and kids continue to believe in him, although perhaps they do have a few doubts, but in the end he is proven innocent and it was all a big mistake.

I also like the one where the husband discovers that his wife has been unfaithful. He actually sees the pictures, but he finds it in his heart to forgive her, after giving her a good sound thrashing.

Finally, I enjoyed that comedy where the man’s wife is an alcoholic, his son is a drug addict, and his twin daughters are whores, but he manages to keep the whole mess a secret until he retires.

Thanks again for your Hollywood help. Since nobody reads this, let me avail myself of the opportunity to tell you that what you said about fellatio in Hollywood is absolutely true. Executive power in the studios is measured by who blows whom pardon my French. If you’re a member of Congress, you’re lucky if you can keep it down to only two mouths at once.

Don’t forget to vote!

Your friend, John Jakobs

Guest Post: David Gold

Hi, joem18b. Thanks for the opportunity to introduce myself and write a few words about what I’m up to.

I guess there aren’t too many readers out there who have seen 15,000 movies.

I was going to start a movie blog myself, but I’m always so busy watching movies, I haven’t had a chance to do it.

I was going to use the blog to keep lists of what I’ve watched, divided up into categories, by director and by year and so on. I used to have a list. I’d carry it with me to the theaters, in case somebody would ask me about all the movies that I’ve seen. Nobody did ask me, but meanwhile I lost the list when I left it on my seat after the first Transformers movie. I was hurrying across to see I Now Pronounce You Chuck and Larry in the next theater and I just forgot it. When I went back, it was gone. The cineplex never found it. I went through their dumpsters out back, but no luck.

I probably know everything there is to know about movies. Well, I was going to learn all the possible camera shots and how to cut a film together and what directors especially like to do in their films, but I would have had to stop watching movies while I wrote all that down and it’s hard to remember those things anyway. Who cares about all those different shots? Let the DPs worry about them. That’s what DPs get paid for. I’ve seen every possible shot a thousand times, even if I can’t recognize them or name them and don’t really give a good goddamn about them, to tell you the truth. It’s hard enough to sit there and watch movie after movie. Can you imagine how many shitty movies I’ve had to watch to get to 17,000? I should start my list again. I used to have a plan. I used to have a schedule. I should make a new plan.

It’s hard to keep a job when you’re watching so many movies. I worked for a while at the cineplex but I was just sneaking in and watching the same movie over and over again. Can I count each time I saw it in my 18,000? I worked at Blockbuster but once you’ve watched all the movies there on the store machine, what’s the point? I never met a single girl at Blockbuster. Well, I met a lot of them but none that would go out on a date with me, to the movies or anything, or practically even to talk to me. The customer is always right! I’m able to live on the city’s General Assistance monthly checks. I spend them all on movie tickets, and eat at a soup kitchen and sleep in a shelter.

If I could meet a girl, she could ask me about any movie and I’d tell her that I’ve seen it. The homeless women I know are all mentally ill or alcoholics or drug addicts who don’t care about movies. At the movies, you never see a girl sitting by herself. They’re always sitting together. If you say hi, they look at you like you’re crazy. If they knew I’d seen more than 20,000 movies, they wouldn’t feel that way. Even if you sit down next to them at the start of the movie it doesn’t do any good. I offer to share my popcorn but I never get a date.

My time at this library computer is up. If you’re a girl reading this, I would like to date you. See you at the movies!

Guest Post: Freddy Potts

Thanks for this space, joem18b. I’ll use it to write about my movie-watching pet peeves.

I hate it when the person sitting next to me is texting on their iPhone, or playing Angry Birds, or eating something, or has snot up their nose, or breaks wind a lot. Also, I hate it when their stomach gurgles. It “takes me out of the movie.”

I’ve tried to ignore all these things. My therapist says that I’m “too f**king sensitive.” But no use. As noisy as Transformers and Punch Drunk were, I still couldn’t concentrate on them with somebody at my elbow clearing their throat, bringing up phlegm, and scratching. They scratch their scalp and then there is a pause, and then they scratch their armpit and then there is a pause, and then the next thing, they’re scratching in their pubic region. And grunting. I hate the grunting.

This is why I now watch movies only at the cinema, not at home. I’ve talked to my wife and daughter and mother-in-law about this but it doesn’t do any good. So no more sitting on the couch with them watching DVDs for me. I’ve had it.

Guest Post: Candy Posthul is a Skank!

[Alright, Frank. I’ll still go out drinking with you, but after this, you’re banished from this blogsite for good. joem18b]

Guest Post: Goodbye

Dear joem18b. I am using this guest post to say goodbye. Sayonara, baby. I have been your girlfriend for three years now and I still don’t know what you look like or how old you are or where you live or what you do or nothing.

I am out of here.

Don’t comment me or email me or write on my wall. Do not tweet me. Do not leave a message on my home phone machine in a disguised voice, Mr. Invisible Man.

I’m going out tonight with a real person, a guy that I found on a dating site. He may turn out to be a serial killer, but at least I’ll feel his hands around my throat.

We had some good times, you and me, especially after we met on Phoenix University’s online campus. Those were the days, snugglebuns. Do you know what I’m doing right now. I’m in the bath and… Aw, nuts. Forget it.

Those “personal items” I sent to your anonymous postal-service box? I want them back. Laundered.

Is anything that you told me really true? My friend Trudy has been out with a hundred guys and she says that you are way exaggerating. Have to be. Trudy says that if you’re telling the truth, she’d be willing to wait three years for you herself, or even four, to hook up.

So goodbye. Unless you want to get together later or something. Let me know what you think.

Guest Post: There’s Something Wrong with This Guy

My neighbor joem18b invited me to sit down here and write a guest post on his blog. He’s gone down to the 7-11 to buy us some juice to drink the times I come over from next door to visit like this, so I’ve got about ten minutes to finish this composition. He probably expects me to say something nice about him, but he told me to just say whatever was on my mind and I will. But I don’t want him hanging over my shoulder while I’m at it, so when he comes back, I’m done, whatever.

First of all, joem18b? Who has a name like that? I see him in the front yard, I have to go Hello, joem18b. It seems odd. He wants to be a good neighbor, I’ll give him that. But he’s a strange bird.

Second of all, I’ve read this blog of his on the computer down at the library. (I don’t have a computer yet. I’m waiting till they settle down.) From his blog, you’d think he was a regular guy. He told me the other day that he stole 95% of what you read here, from other blogs. He said he couldn’t write a good sentence if his life depended on it. He said he’d never get caught because there are so many blogs and nobody would think to check, if anybody read his stuff in the first place. He just wants to make some friends. I asked him if he had made any. He said most of the people who read his blog, if they even did really read it, he didn’t know who they were or where they lived or what they did or anything. I asked him why he didn’t just go downtown and meet some folks. At a bar or the bingo hall or the whorehouse. He stared at me like I was nuts.

There’s nobody living in this house but him. There is a dress dummy in the living room, wearing a tuxedo. At night I hear dance music and see shadows moving on the shade.

The blog contains stuff about sex, but he told me that he lost his privates at the age of two in an accident with an electric toy steamshovel.

He spends an awful lot of time in the kitchen and out in the yard with his flowers. Can you be a fag if your dick was cut off?

I don’t like his religion. I don’t know what it is, but I don’t see him in my congregation on Sunday mornings, so it can’t be good.

He’s not from around here. He could be from a foreign country with that name of his. When he moved in, before he changed them, he had license plates from Wisconsin or Minnesota or someplace like that, someplace with a lot of Swedes or Germans or Canadians or whatever. His eyes might be a little slanty. His skin might be a little dark. His hair might have some curl in it. Kinky curl, I mean.

I’ve never liked the paint job on his house. Mrs. Jacobs, who lived there before him, wouldn’t change it. When she finally passed, I breathed a sigh of relief. joem18b said that he’d paint it a new color. I asked him what color. He asked what color I would like. I said I’d like a brown color. The next day he told me he had researched the subject on his computer and how would I feel about French Roast. I asked what was that. He said the color of coffee. I said I didn’t want anything to do with the damned French. Cowards. He asked about Portobello. I asked what was that. He said a mushroom. Jesus Christ, joem18b! What’s wrong with you? He asked how I would feel about Dark Chocolate. OK, I told him, paint this eyesore the color of dark chocolate and you’ll finally have a friend in town, namely, me.

Write What You Know!

If you are an aspiring writer, you’ve probably heard it a million times, and it’s good advice. Write what you know. To prove it, I’m going to give you a list of statements, some true and some false. You’ll be able to tell which are which in an instant. It’s like that with your readers. Tell the truth and they’ll know it. Make something up and they’ll know that too. Remember this list when you’re tempted to go beyond that which you know and write falsely about that which you know not.

1. Canadian geese will walk right out into the road, even if a car is coming. It’s like they’re stupid or something.

2. The bird most likely to poop on your head would be the seagull.

3. I dunno. Seems like a pigeon would be just as likely.

4. When you’re at the gym and there is this hot babe on the thigh machine next to you, with bare legs that go all the way up to a tight leotard, and she’s sweating lightly on those legs, (a) you’re invisible to her, (b) you can’t look anyway, because if you do, that creepy guy on the other side of you will pipe up, and (c) you have to take a tiny peek anyway, for Christ’s sake, and yes, the guy starts yakking at you right on cue.

5. When you come home at night and you walk into the kitchen and say honey, i’m home, and your wife gives you that look, the hairy eyeball, you aren’t going to be able to talk your way out of it, whatever it turns out to be.

6. When you come home and your wife gives you that other, “intimate” look, you’re going to have to earn your dinner and it will be late.

7. If you wake up and can’t remember the last 24 to 48 hours, you need to get up and go to the closest AA meeting happening now.

8. If you have three treatments due in the morning and you haven’t got a single goddamned idea, and you’re sitting at the back of the AA meeting taking notes on what every speaker says in hopes of finding a plot in there somewhere, the cranky old drunk next to you starts to poke his nose into your business.

9. After the meeting, you stop in at a favorite bar and one thing leads to another and by the time you’re back in the car driving home, the sun is coming up and you’re seeing double and there appear to be geese in the road ahead. Should you slow down or just assume it’s an hallucination and keep driving, so that you can get into your kitchen and drink a couple of cups of coffee?