Inbox #7: 17 new messages
From: Everyone's Favourite Jim @JimmerUK
Subj: I'll be there in a jiffy.
Subj: Cuppa Soup hack
Fancy upgrading a boring cuppa soup? May I recommend sticking a babybel in it. Yum!
Subj: Re: Re: What’s the weirdest thing you own?
I found what I thought was some ambergris on a beach in Portugal and thought I was in the money. I took photos of it and sent to an expert. He told me in no uncertain terms to put it in the bin as it was definitely not ambergris. No idea what it is. Still have it
We need a picture of this faux-ambergris else it becomes faux-faux-ambergris
From: the goblins
Subj: Evil Goblin News
________ ______ ____ _____ |_ __ | .' ___ ||_ \|_ _| | |_ \_|/ .' \_| | \ | | | _| _ | | ____ | |\ \| | _| |__/ |\ `.___] |_| |_\ |_ |________| `._____.'|_____|\____| ~~~~~~~ EVIL GOBLIN NEWS ~~~~~~~~
Hey there, fellow goblins!
It's been a busy week here in the goblin kingdom. We've been up to all sorts of mischief and mayhem! It's been a lot of fun, but I have to say, my favorite part of the week was when we raided the village and stole all their gold! I can't wait to do it again next week!
The farmer's apples were a tempting target for us goblins. We knew they would be ripe and sweet, so we decided to steal them all! We had a lot of fun raiding the orchard, and we got away with a lot of apples. The farmer was very angry when he found out what happened, but there was nothing he could do. We goblins are very sneaky!
WE CURSED THE PRINCESS
She will now be forced to live in a dark, dreary tower, and will never be able to leave. The goblins have also stolen her precious jewels, and she will never be able to get them back. Boo hoo!
ANOTHER BABY KIDNAP
We've kidnapped a baby from a human family and taken it to our dark lair. We're going to raise it as our own, and teach it to be evil just like us. Ha ha ha! The little baby is crying and scared, but we don't care. We're going to have a lot of fun with it, and when it's old enough, we'll send it out into the world to terrorize humans!
Our raiding party of goblins descended on the unsuspecting village and began pillaging and stealing all of its gold! It was a glorious sight to behold as the gold was carted away, and the villagers' cries of despair only made us hungrier for more. We will enjoy spending this new wealth in our dark, dank caves. The villagers will be sad and poor, while we will be rich and happy. Haha!
Subj: turtle god
they are turtle
From: Excavation Specialists
Subj: Dig Site Bodies
The bodies they found on our dig site are going to destroy a 30 year old company. The lawyers are now involved and we see no way of going forward on this project. If you have any ideas on how to proceed I’d appreciate your input. Our lawyers have stated we should file for bankruptcy based on our losses and I’m starting to think that could be our only solution.
Thanks in advance for any advice,
CEO Shrinker Excavations
Subj: Re: Morbison
Seeing as we're doing Roy Orbison content, here is a series of short stories fantasising about the late crooner being wrapped in clingfilm for erotic purposes
My 80-year-old dad got this book from my cousin for Christmas one year. It's hilarious. It still sits, unread by him, on my childhood bookshelf in my old room. Dad was never keen on Roy Orbison, although he is agnostic about clingfilm.
From: greenhouse lodger
Can you pick me up 27 rolls of sellotape while you're out?
Les floundered among the sweaty bedclothes, the peach-coloured fitted sheet wound incongruously about his midriff like a hastily donned loincloth.
He stood up, naked, let the linen slide wetly to the floor and strode to the Holiday Inn window to look out on Norwich at 3am.
This isn't a life, he told himself, fogging the upper pane with his breath while his limp member pushed against the freezing glass of the lower.
I didn't dream of this when I was a child, learning the art at my father's knee, imagining how the world would receive my particular brand.
He had made up his mind that he would jump to the pavement, head-first with just a muddy slap on impact punctuating his sad and regretfilled life.
Like father, like son, he thought, but it would not be today.
Below, a boatman plied his trade on the waterway - shipping carcasses to the charnel house.
Les traced the route along the Wensum to the fires that burned hotly and permanently on the horizon.
Subj: An unedited podcast about Garfield. Just what I've always wanted.
In the spirit of “just because you can doesn’t mean you should”, my wife and I have started a podcast. As far as sentences go, I can scarcely think of one better designed to make people’s eyes slide off the rest of the text, like a hard-boiled egg off the top of a speeding bus, but we did and we have and here we are.
The podcast is about Garfield. You know, the little orange guy. The round, rude, cattitudinous dude, beloved of pencil cases and novelty pyjamas, and prone to appearing in the form of plastic telephones on a French beach for thirty five years. We don’t actually like Garfield, you understand. Though we don’t dislike him either. We are, at best, indifferent towards his antics. And yet, once a week, we wearily grasp our microphones (we only have one microphone, but the sentence “we wearily grasp our microphone” just sounds weird, you know? There’s something not quite right about it), sit in front of a comic, and hit record.
We have decided to review the Garfield syndicated newspaper comic strips, one strip per episode, one episode per week, from the publication of the very first strip. At the time of writing, that’s 15,961 strips. Nearly sixteen thousand episodes. So far, we’ve done twenty five. It is extremely unlikely that we will finish this endeavour. Not least because strips are still being produced.
So why are we doing this? We could claim cultural archeology. Sifting through the dirt of time and commercialisation to reveal the bones of something that was arguably, at one point, an intermittently charming comic. We could talk about how we want to explore, day by day, how the comic turned from something homespun and new into the cultural and commercial juggernaut that faces us now, hanging in the collective unconscious like a Blade Runner blimp, droning out a distaste for Mondays and a desire for lasagne from powerful loudhailers.
I guess that’s kind of true. But mainly it’s something to do. The exact opposite of zen meditation. An ultimately futile weekly ritual. Like Mondays, am I right?
Episodes are between twenty minutes and a solid hour. For a comic strip not usually more than three panels in length. What do we talk about? Honestly, gun to my head, I couldn’t tell you. Sometimes it’s Garfield.
I Don’t Like Mondays. The only unedited, unresearched husband and wife Garfield podcast that you could ever need.
Available on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, and all other places you might find such a thing.
We’ve also started a Patreon, offering such “rewards” as early-release episodes, and a thoughtful critical essay once a month, tangentially related to the notion of Garfield.
We even have a tier for Jim Davis. £10,000 per month for fewer benefits than the £6/month tier. He has, thus far, declined to join.
Subj: Re: What is this?!
It won't let go of my finger and I can feel some sucking
Air plants are the most vicious of all life on this planet. They seem like they don't do anything but they are psychic vampires that feed on your fears and insecurities. My life was 50% worse when I bought an air plant for my home office and I couldn't figure out why. It drove me to the brink of madness until I discovered the cause. Burn it with fire and never look back. Godspeed and spend some extra time with family tonight.
Subj: something aka bad grammar
soo i have made this and i was just wondering if you could vote if it is good or not.
Subj: blood on the hands
They were bruised.
My hands were bleeding and had blood on them.
The sirens also bled as I ran through the alley.
I came across a dead end.
It was a chainlink fence.
It was easy to climb.
Once my feet hit the other side I could feel a sting in my calf.
I was shot.
I had been shot.
Running was a chore.
Slipping into the sewer wasn't hard.
The cars nor the cops hadn't pulled into the street yet.
Going in was easy.
I knew coming out would be hard but I could travel for a while.
The sting continued as well as the blood.
Dragging myself through the water.
Messy it was.
Eventually I found the hole.
We had broken it in case one of us was in a pickle.
I sure was.
Sliding down hurt.
When I reached the bottom it hurt more.
Healing up was easy.
We had stashed about half a million here.
Plenty of supplies to live forever in the sewers.
MURDERER IS FINALLY DISCOVERED AFTER 37 YEARS; MASS CASUALTIES
Saturday, April 19th, 2017
Early on Thursday morning the FBI had received a report of a man, somewhere in his fifties, had just picked up prescription drugs from a pharmacy. The cashier thought they recognized the man as a criminal who was discovered for committing murder and being found out for a mass of other crimes in 1980.
The cashier dialed the FBI and reported the man. The FBI eventually visited the pharmacy to which they viewed the surveillance cameras and tracked down the man's truck. When they reached the address they knocked on the door and announced it was the FBI. The man reportedly responded with "I got weapons that I ain't afraid to use. They can blow this whole neighborhood to the highest heaven if you do not be careful."
The FBI eventually broke his door down, to which the man responded with gunfire, killing two agents and leaving three injured. Luckily Agent Doe wasn't struck by the gunfire which came from an LMG which was "heavily upgraded to extreme remarks." Agent Doe called for backup. When the backup arrived the man was on top of the roof and threw multiple fragmentation grenades. It is unknown where he acquired these explosives currently.
The fragmentation grenades killed five more agents and injured two. The remaining agents along with Agent Doe called for even more backup with a helicopter and a sniper. When the backup arrived the man had already unknowingly escaped through the back of the building, the backup proceeded to move into the building with caution.
When he wasn't found the helicopter headed into the sky to search for the man. After around two to three hours the helicopter found the man limping through a small garden. The helicopter communicated with ground units about the man's location. After asking the man to surrender from the helicopter the ground units arrived to which it was discovered a bomb rig had been strapped to the man's chest.
After an hour of negotiations, the man prepared the vest and said: "It has been a fun trip. I'm old and frail but still, have the power. Silly, silly something, ain't it? FBI can't stop an old man? Welp, goodbye to all. Sorry, Gregory." The man then proceeded to explode the vest. DNA has confirmed he was the man who had killed his partner 37 years ago as well as numerous other crimes. His name has not yet been released for unknown reasons.
(vol. 4 of "the apocalypse" will be out next newsletter)
Subj: Re: cheescake
hog ridaaaaaa wrote:
do you guys like cheescak? i do :). cheeskak good,very very good. :)
I only like american cheeskack
Subj: First drafts
are coming down the stairs
From: Aunt Aggie Knee
Subj: Send me your problems, weaklings
I will give advice on any problem - relationship, workplace, family, mathematical - and impose my own uniquely terrible views and resentments on your situation. I will f___ you up.
Looking forward to hearing from you,
Aunt Aggie Knee
Subj: Junk mail
I just found this in my junk mail and vaguely remembered that I had signed up for it and that I should be reading it. I lost the first two in the great 10 day junk mail purge that Microsoft insist on and only managed to save the last five but I will have to imagine that the first two were terrible with lots of teething problems. So far, I am kind of happy that I rescued them from their deletion, however I also feel that the first issue might have provided some clues as to what the hell is going on. I am getting old now and abstract newsletters are slipping down my list of important things - along with sleeping and drinking to the point of vomiting (last Friday was down to IBS and a lively kebab and not the lager, I am sure)