September 11, 2015

Let Us Now Praise Famous Me

Filed under: Op-Ed — Tags: , , , , — boomaga @ 2:17 am


Let Us Now Praise Famous Me

by “Tintinnatus” a humble citizen of the Republic

    Please allow me to introduce myself, even though I need no introduction.

     You all know me.  You know what I stand for.  I’m a man of means, a man of great wealth. I like making money and I’m good at it.  I’m very very great at money.  And I am the wealthy man I am today because of America.  And I will never forget that.

     I will never forget my roots.  And that keeps me humble.  I am a man of immense humility.   My modesty knows no bounds.    And I hope you’ll forgive me if I get a little quotatious here – you know, I went to the Wharton School, which is a very famous college university – but if I have, quote, “Slipped the syrupy bounds of earth and slapped the face of gods,” it is only because I have stood on the shoulders of giants.   Great men, like Ronald Reagan.   Now, there was a man who knew what America is about and for !   Let’s have a hand for Ronald Reagan.

     If there’s any regular Joe like me who has dared to dream, dared to achieve, to achieve a dream of daring, and doing, then I have.  I would always be grateful to those who helped me – except in my case, nobody helped me, I did all the daring and dreaming on my own, as an entrepreneur, as a real estate developer, as a creator of the most successful entertainment resorts and casinos the world has ever seen, as a media brand, as a beloved celebrity personality (practically American royalty, if we’re real honest !), as board game creator, author of over-sized hardback books, as an architect and inventor of both a fantastic new railroad steel alloy and the “reverse mullet” hairstyle (party up top, business in the back).

     As I mentioned, I went to the Edith Wharton School of Business and Interior Design, which is in Pennsylvania and is very prestigious, as you know unless you’re a loser.  These we hard years for me – hard times for the son of a simple millionaire slum lord.  But when times are hard I am harder.  Hard-headed.  Hard-hearted.

The doctors told my father I needed corrective shoes, so you know what he did ?   He spent a million dollars to create a pair with special bootstraps I could pull myself up with, up and down the stairs to class.  And what I learned in that class was this:   that there’s a working class, and an upper class, a freshman and a senior class, and then there’s people with NO class like Rosie.

     What do all these classical people have in common ?   They KNOW me.   They know what I stand for.

     Now as you know, I can make America great again – and again, and again, and again. Because I can make myself great.  You can take all my money away from me, and I would still have money.  Now some have said I have been bad with money before – I lost money, I declared bankruptcy, I borrowed, I spent unwisely, over and over.   Yet here I am, and I think that tells the story right there.   I’m very very rich, and those loser critics, THEY are down there, you know, not anything at all. They’re basically losers, is what I’m saying.

     America is great.   Or rather, before the current regime, it WAS great.  We have a problem in America !  It’s called a border.  Too many of THOSE people, and I think you know which people I’m talking about, I assume, many of them no good, bad people, are threatening to tear our country down by emigrating north of the border if I am elected.   But if I’m elected, I will build a wall that will stretch from Maine to Puget Sound to protect our northern border.  Those losers will not be allowed to excape.  For those people I say, love it or leave it to me !

     So, you know me, and you know what I stand for.  I stand tall in the saddle, like Ronald Reagan did.   I have nothing to gain by putting myself out there, spending my own money.  Nothing !   I make more money eating crackers on the john than I do pandering to some yokels from the sticks. So why am I doing this, putting my face on every screen and paper, buying the ads, buying the crowds, buying the airtime, buying the polls, increasing my brand when I don’t even have a show anymore ?

     Here’s a hint, people:  it has nothing to do with ego.  It’s simply the principle.  The principle interest. It’s spending cash for cache. Listen, I am a great, great, wealthy man, and getting greater every day.  Because to make America great, it’s going to take a great man to take and make it great.  It’s a little something I call “my civic duty.”   Something my opponents, whoever they turn out to be, know nothing about.

     Let me tell you a little story.   A while ago, I bought a thing and I put my name on it.   You all know my name, I don’t like to brag, but it’s famous.   Today that thing is worth over a billion.

     And that’s why I know you know me.  And you know what I stand for.  Let me spell it out for you.   Two words:      Total.  Electability.

It’s been a pleasure, I love the Bible and America, and your town is my favorite place in the world.




April 26, 2009

A Word from former President Gerald Ford

Filed under: Op-Ed — boomaga @ 5:18 am

Oh, they all laughed at me in ’76.

That’s right, laugh at the big clumsy stumblebum – just one more entertainment for the Bicentennial – the Tall Ships and President Doofus.

Mr. Full Presidential Pardon for Nixon, Mr. Peaked-in-College, Mr. Fall Over My Own Feet, Mr. Lost to Carter in a Walk.

They all thought I was crazy.

Swine Flu ?,” they said. “You’re spending millions to stop an outbreak of something called ‘swine flu’ ? Go to bed, old man !”

That Chevy Chase and Lorne Michaels and Garry Trudeau, laughing in my FACE.

33 years later – oh, we’re singing a different TUNE NOW, aren’t we ?

Kiss my ass, America.


Edit – this would’ve been much funnier had there actually been a deadly epidemic.   But, that’s showbiz.

August 10, 2006


Filed under: Op-Ed — boomaga @ 7:13 am


From: B. Maga, Head Office

To: The English-speaking world

In Re: New Policy on Interpersonal/Intranet Comm.

Howdy folks.
Well, let’s dispense with the fake folksy friendliness – I don’t have time to play games here.

I don’t ming telling you we’ve been getting pretty sloppy lately – back in the good-old-days, a few whippings with spiked-metal tipped scourges would tighten up morale. Or maybe I’d have some of you scurvy dogs thrown into the, I dunno, “dungeon” I guess, but that’s not really the word I want to say, it’s more like a jail cell, but, you know, it’s on a ship, starts with a “p” or something.

No, that’s not it, it’s not “prison,” it’s one syllable. Well, hell, I can’t think of it either. Have Sheila in Research do a report on it and have it on my desk in an hour and tell her if it’s one minute late, she’s fired.

Anyhow, back to the memo. I know there’s going to be a lot of griping and moaning on that series of tubes you guys call a “productivity tool” but which we all know is a thief of good company time spent playing pornographic poker games. Lousy spoiled wretches. Don’t type that.

But interpersonal communications is SERIOUS BUSINESS ! All-caps on that. I mean it.

New paragraph. Bad communication means bad business. I’ve always said, say what you MEAN… and SAY what you MEAN. We’re not drawing word-pictures here, we’re not making up words like that Irish guy, you know, the drunk one. This is a business revolution, and if you’re not with me, than you’re leaning against me, and I will not STAND for it any longer.

And I’m almost out of ice cubes. Here I am, biggest office in the building, the only goddamn one with a liquor cabinet, and the goddamned ice bucket’s got three goddamned ice cubes. It’s like we’re living like goddamned savages here. Ah. Are you still typing ? Aren’t you caught up yet ? Jesus, I thought you were a professional secretary.

New paragraph. All-caps. Bold-face.


Number one.

1. The phrase “on crack,” as in “X is like Y on crack.”

Example: “TV Guide raves, ‘It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia’ is like ‘Seinfeld’ on crack !”

Okay. Unless you have actually spent a good deal of time smoking crack, or have lived IN a crack house, or have dealt crack for at least three years, you cannot possibly know what crack does to people. Also, things and ideas cannot smoke crack. A TV show cannot smoke crack. People smoke crack, and believe me, when they do, they DO NOT GET FUNNIER.

2. The phrase “from hell,” similarly.

Example: “Did you see Leno last night ? Jeez, Robin Williams these days is like Robin Williams… from HELL !”

3. The supposedly offensive racial epithet “beaners”

Beans are nutritious, delicious, inexpensive, and an ecologically sustainable staple crop. It’s not an insult, it’s like a tribute to their sensibility. “Wetback,” “spic,” these are insults. “Beaner” is a compliment. No one calls white people “whole-wheaters.” Ned Holness, I’m talking to you.

4. “Google” and “eBay” are verbs now, like “Xerox” and “FedEx.” But until we can agree just how the goddamned word is supposed to be pronounced, “wiki” can NOT be used as a verb. Is it “wicky-pee-dia”, or “wick-uh-pehd-ia”, “wickerpedophile” ? Choose one and stick with it.

5. “foremost …”

Example: “But is this UFO really haunted ? We talked to Les Phelps, a foremost expert on alien ghosts, and an associate professor TA at the University of West Hollywood.”

“Foremost” is a word that implies much, but means nothing. It doesn’t mean that this person is certified or qualified or recognized by his peers or even particularly famous for anything. You can say I’m a foremost expert on lower back pain, or that my wife is the foremost authority on the subject of what a bad navigator I am. Doesn’t mean she can’t be wrong once in a goddamned while.

6. “Extreme” is no longer to be used in association with activities done in a way that mimics thrill-seeking sports requiring head protection and sunglasses and the shouting of “Wooooooo-hooo !” The word extreme means you’re beyond the pale, you’re out of line, you’re at the end of the spectrum. Things that are truly extreme are usually not useful or good, because they’ve gone TOO far. Extreme no longer can be used to describe a taco with some slightly-spicier-than-normal sour cream sauce. This is not extreme. A taco may be properly called extreme if it was sauced with, say, plutonium.

7. “Ultimate”.

Similarly. Ultimate means there IS no further you can go, or, read differently, it means that it’s the final thing of its kind, or at least the final one you’ll ever experience. The extreme plutonium taco would definitely be the “ultimate” taco, because it would be your last. Before you die. Cause the plutonium’s gonna kill you.

8. The names of mixed drinks which are sexual innuendos, if not outright sexual advances, are strictly verboten for men. Grown men should not be ordering a “buttery nipple,” or “purple hooter shooter,” or “red-headed slut,” or “slow comfortable screw up against the wall.” Cute young women ordering these drinks are welcome to use these terms, as it is tantamount to verbal lesbianism. I’m not saying men have to drink only whiskey and beer, but goddamn it, the idea is you get the woman to drink the drinks, THEN take her home and have sex with her when she passes out.

9. “seriously”

Okay, if you’re NOT having to make it a point that, no, you are NOT kidding or being sarcastic or ironic, then there should be no need to say “seriously.” “It’s seriously cheesy.” = “It’s very cheesy.” – except that, somehow, being “seriously” cheesy means it’s so cheesy it is actually threatening. Underestimate the seriousness of the cheese at your own peril. A “seriously” cheesy taco, anthropomorphized, will frown, purse its eyebrows, glare at you with a menacing, clenched-jawed look, and probably draw a gun.

10. “quantifiable” – this word is used by scientists to denote the quality of something having a property which is palpable and measurable against a scale of units, like size or density or power or just sheer quantity. In logic terms, quantifiable means a portion – “some” or “all.”

The other people who use this word are puffed-up jackasses who feel like they personally discovered Richard D. James, then are dismayed to find that, far from being an underground sensation which only THEY are blessed with the genius to recognize, electronic music has been around even since before their parents were born, and has never been a secret – so, to make themselves feel like more of an O.G. (old guard), will find things to furiously bitch and moan about as though they are the goddamned genre-police and are going to arrest the first fanboi who uses the words “electronica,” “EDM” when they mean “IDM”, “techstep,” or “junglist.” And to hammer home their point of how much smarter they are, they drop words like “quantifiable.” Hey, if you half-emo metrosexual bags of bones want to fight over genres, let’s really fight with fists. I didn’t think so. Go smoke a clove.

Okay, I’m bored now.

Sincerely etc., blahblahblah

Now screw off. I’m gonna powernap after I have a powerjerk. Lock the door behind you.

bm/anon. (dictated, not read)

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