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Ask Bob (09/18/00 & 09/25/00)

09/18/00

Ask Bob!
By "Bob Senitram"

Q: Hey, where did that Jerome guy come from, and where did he go? I thought he was funny.

A:
Funny you should ask. Just a few weeks ago, Stephen mentioned that, that instead of submitting the Site to search engines to increase traffic like I'm supposed too, I made up the lie that he was dead to increase traffic. Well it's just not true.

Although I did forget to submit the site to search engines for about 5 months and traffic did decrease as a result, I did not make up the rumor Stephen was dead.

In fact to make up for not submitting the site to search engines, I registered Weirdcrap with a real "dot-com" domain name! You can now find Weirdcrap under "www.TheWeirdcrap.com," or just "TheWeirdcrap.com." If you happen to forget "TheWeirdcrap," we set up another easy to remember domain name...

"http://Icannotrememberthedomainnameofmyfavoritewebsitecalled.theweirdcrap.com/"

That should be easy to remember. If you still like to use Weirdcrap.go.cc, that still works...personally I find Weirdcrap.go.cc very easy to remember, but others seem to forget.

Now back to Stephen.

Several weeks ago, I saw him climb into the giant trash bin in the alley, to take a nap. The next thing I knew the garbage men came and emptied and smashed all the contents into the garbage truck. I figured Stephen was still inside - only all squished up and dead, dead, DEAD!

I remember hearing the garbage man cursing 'cuz he was having trouble hooking up the garbage can to the garbage truck dilly-majiggy that lifts it and dumps it into the truck...as he struggled with the apparatus for 5 or 10 minutes, I thought, "Maybe I should tell them someone's inside that trash..." Then I figured that if Stephen's dead then we would get lots of sympathy traffic, just like when Paul McCartney died back in the 60's.

This was my big chance for fame, and I laughed hysterically as the contents of that trash bin were smashed up into itty-bitty-eenie-weenie-teenie-tiny-Stephen-bits. I imagined his head popping like a zit, with brain goo shooting about within the truck, only to be soaked up by soiled baby diapers old clothes.

Just then, Jerome White - the UPS Delivery guy showed up and wanted to know what was so funny. I said, "I'm finally rid of Stephen Johnson forever!" as I threw my head back and continued my meniacle laugh.

"Cool, that means, like, I can, be like, the guy who totally writes all the commentaries. Just like you said, cuz you said. If you say, then I can start right now, right. Cuz, when I asked If I could write a column, you said over Stephens dead body...right! You said..."

"I was bullshitting," was my immediate reply.

He then took a letter opener and held it tight to my neck and said he would beat me up and make me his bitch if I didn't let him write the column...so Jerome became our new commentary writer, on account I'm easily a-scarred, and I'm just not very strong.

Now that Stephens back, Jerome is back in the UPS Truck. The deals off!

Ha! serves him right!



And now you know.


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09/25/00

Ask Bob!
By "Bob Senitram"


Well, for the first time since starting this, I wasn't sent a Question, so I guess I'll have to just ramble on aimlessly


A: . Well, let's see Thursday I was sittin' around watchin' tv trying to think of what the commentary will be about, but I didn't come up with any ideas. I checked the email and there were still no questions sent. Well, well, well.

Then I thought about other people who write commentaries. Let's see
Dave Barry usually tells you some handy dandy advice or instruction...I guess I'll give that a try. Here goes.

How to Build a futon: Go to a lumber store and buy about 200 lb. of wood in assorted sizes and shapes. Get some nails. Assemble the wood with the nails in the form of a futon. There, Done.

Now there's also
Dear Abby, who gives advice on stuff, but I think she's getting so old she doesn't make any sense. A few weeks ago I read one of her crappy articles. First she announces that her nickname is "Ebby," then she says, "Look at all the interesting letters from readers who's nickname is also 'Ebby.'"

Then there are 14 letters like this:
"I can't Believe your nickname is 'Ebby,' my nickname is 'Ebby' too!" - Susan, Los Angeles, CA.
"Wow, I was so surprised to hear that your nickname is 'Ebby!' my nickname is 'Ebby' too!" - Sarah, Michigan.
"Who would imagine your nickname is 'Ebby,' my nickname is 'Ebby' too!" - Beth, New York, New York.
And on, and on, and on...

I can't believe she gets paid for crap like that. I'm jealous, I write stuff just as shitty and I don't get paid. My nickname is "Bob", I wonder how many other people have a nickname that's "Bob." If anyone responds to that last question, I will not post your letter, it's just too stupid...so just forget I said anything.

Anyway, in my spare time, I was sittin' around the house thinkin' of ideas for the next article and I just didn't come up with any. I have a lot of spare-time on account I don't work. Oh, I have a job alright. I just don't go. I just can't bring myself to go.

You see, this is hard to admit, but I have "Chronic Fatigue Syndrome" and the "Gulf War Syndrome," with just a pinch of "The China Syndrome. "The Gulf War Syndrome," leaves me suicidal, "The China Syndrome," makes me want to take myself out with a nuclear bomb, and "Chronic Fatigue Syndrome," makes me too damn lazy to do anything about it.

I haven't been diagnosed by a doctor, but I'm pretty sure that's what I got, on account that, I never do anything other than watch t.v while sit on the couch, order Domino delivery and drink Falstaff all day long.

Yup, It's hard living with this sickness. Sometimes I get so tired I have to get a whole six-pack at a time from the 'fridge, 'cuz I know I'll be too tired to get another beer later. Then I'm forced to drink it real fast like, you know, so it don't get cold. It's a hard life, but I promised myself that I'm gonna start making some changes real soon! No sickness or illness is gonna get in my way! That's right, the change will happen today!

Today, I will order take out chicken, drink Budwiser and sit in the rocking chair.

And now you know.


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