Big News! (Kind of!)

Check out my new blog--it puts all of my ramblings into one concentrated space!

http://jessemcleanwriter.wordpress.com/

Lies I've Told That People Actually Believed

1. Looking directly into a photocopier lamp will permanently damage your vision.

2. Emperor Penguins can reach five feet in height and will shit on you if you don’t kiss one of their wings.

3. After the hit “Arthur’s Theme”, Christopher Cross became a commercial pilot so that he could actually be “caught between the moon and New York City”.

4. Frankenstein was based on a true story.

5. Baby oil from China is made from actual babies (roughly two and-a-half to the bottle, and always girls).

6. All rotating members of The Three Stooges were members of Mensa.

7. The Germans invented swearing.

8. The French claim to have invented swearing.

9. I’ve had sex with three famous women.

10. I’ve had sex.

11. Robin Williams is shorter than an Emperor Penguin.

12. Scent of a Woman? Awesome movie.

13. Deathbed confessions are only admissible in a court of law if the accused is in his/her own bed.

14. Chili powder is a gateway spice.

15. Dogs know over four hundred words but only admit to knowing one hundred.

16. Scientology’s OT Level 8, advertised as the highest level of enlightenment, is just the beginning.

17. George W. Bush served with distinction in the military.

18. Stephen Harper is not a robot: he’s a cyborg and there’s a big difference.

19. One time, Ayn Rand wrote a good book.

20. Patience will allow the training of good table manners to raccoons.

21. All useful lists end on an even number.

How To Shake Hands If You're Thinking About Becoming A Complete Asshole

1. Grab your opponent’s hand and squeeze early, collapsing his fingers and crushing his knuckles
2. Consider anyone who you are going to shake hands with as your ‘opponent’
3. Critique the handshake while still engaged, but don’t overdo it; there’s no need to call him queer when you can imply it with a sneer and shake of your head
4. Grip his elbow and guide hand into yours, because you never know when a handshake can misfire and windup tangled in your necktie
5. Grab bicep and squeeze before shaking; similar to the above but allows you to suss out his strength if he disagrees with your assessment of the weather and you have to throw some elbows
6. Tricky move for quick "alpha dog" status affirmation—grab opponent’s elbow, guide hand into yours, move free hand to his bicep, squeeze, ask if he works out; while he’s blushing slip him into a headlock and whisper, “I used to fuck guys like you in the Army.”
7. Dig thumb into back of opponent’s hand and when his knees buckle, flip sharply and wrench upward for a dazzling compound fracture; we call this the ‘Steven Seagal Salutation’
8. With back turned, lick palm into a damp and warm mess; when shaking, ask if he’s ever heard of new perfume called ‘Ebola’ that everyone told him about in Africa
9. Force opponent into thumb wrestling match; whether you win or lose, puff out your chest and strut like a rooster because you made him play a game he didn’t want to play
10. Claim that handshakes are ‘too old school’ and insist on hand jives (note: if Caucasian, perform only on those within a two shade differential of your own)
11. Put opponent through improvised ‘fraternity’ handshake; keep him on his toes by never repeating the same move twice

Rejected "The Way I See It" Blurbs #5

The author followed up by stating, "Waaah."

Rejected "The Way I See It" Blurbs #4

Rejected "The Way I See It" Blurbs #3

Taken from a recent speaking tour on age-appropriate dating, underwritten by those responsible for the Bristol Palin abstinence campaign.

Open Letter to the Post-Op Transgendered Woman Who Offered Me Career Advice

Dear Doris,

I appreciated the phone call you made to remind me of our meeting. Your deep and gravelly voice surprised me somewhat. You provided a feminine name which I accepted without qualm. I’m good like that.

We met the following day and you were a great help. You wore a great deal of make up, which made me consider your gender status once more. But upon shaking your hand, I became convinced that you had elected to switch sides as it were; your hand enveloped mine, and yet your French-tipped nails suggested a quotidian efficacy that can only derive from years of practice. I surmised that you weathered the bouts of surgery some time ago and were comfortable in your blotchy, pancaked skin.

I marveled at your transformation. The opportunity to re-invent ones self is a rare and wondrous thing. The encompassing change and commitment required baffled me—I don’t like to make lunch plans more than a day in advance, so I stand in awe of your abilities.

One question: what’s with the name? You arranged for the opportunity to build yourself from the ground up and you chose a name like ‘Doris’. Why? I suppose it’s better than ‘Ashley’ or ‘Jaden’, but the overpowering fuddy-duddiness is one-hundred and eighty degrees in the wrong direction.

‘Doris’ is the mother on a black and white sitcom, or a matronly house mother at a boarding school, or the spinsterish librarian who masturbates to D.H. Lawrence. I can only imagine that you spent a great deal of time thinking about this momentous life change…while you saved up the money, couldn’t you have purchased a decent baby name book?

Luckily, I have given this great consideration and will provide you with a suitable alternate. I know that it will be a hassle to legally change your name, but you once had your penis cut off, split down the middle and used as the foundation for a constructed vagina. You don’t flinch from a tough job, to say the least.

You need a name that covers your remaining masculine attributes with a believable patina of upbringing. Many women I’ve met from rural environs are butch enough to fight mixed martial arts without spilling their Molson Ex. Therefore, something simple and unfettered by cloying girlishness will do the trick.

Agathe. Not quite as ancient as ‘Agatha’, but close enough to give you comfort. It has a touch of French to paint the picture of a bucolic Quebec background, and sonically pleasing without sounding frimpy. You also sound kind of mysterious with this handle, which I think is no small feat.

Also: you may want to incorporate scarves into your wardrobe. I understand the shaving of an Adam’s apple is expensive, but it tends to undercut the mystery we’ve worked so hard to create.

Good luck on your new life, Agathe!

Sincerely,

Jesse McLean

Rejected "The Way I See It" Blurbs #2

Rejected "The Way I See It" Blurbs #1

Do they drink Starbucks coffee in the Bible Belt?

A Few Words on Government Funding brought to you by Black & Decker

I've never given much credence to the idea of trepanning, but I watched a horrible movie last night that gave me an opportunity to think this thing through.

For the uninitiated, trepanation is an ancient and, by all accounts, barbaric "medical" procedure that consists of drilling a hole in the skull to allow the brain's dura mater an opportunity to breathe. Once upon a time, this was thought an even-handed approach to disease treatment, one in which evil spirits were allowed a convenient escape hatch and thus leaving the afflicted free of discomfort, to say nothing of a skull fragment.

No surprise that the practice of boring a blowhole into a non-aquatic mammal's head met with vigorous debunking once humankind decided that the sun was not a fiery loogie spewed from God's angry nose every morning. Perhaps even less surprising that a voluntary version of this goofy endeavour has attracted many adherents in modern day. For those who believe that tattoos and genitalia-percings are too vanilla and mainstream, leveling a Black & Decker into the frontal lobe is the marshmallow and almond in their rocky road.

The only thing more distressing than intentional perforation of the head is the existence of a movie like The Third Eye. I remain unmoved by the standard knee-jerk reaction to Canadian film as dull, boring, self-indulgent tripe...until I see a production that ticks off all those boxes with exuberance. What might provide depraved Saw-like degradation in a production from any other country, winds up a lifeless, maudlin dirge. Clips from the documentary A Hole in the Head did little to jar me from the mournful narcosis induced by the film. And when actual footage of a good, old-fashioned trepanning fails to rouse the spirits, you're in trouble (I think I stole that from Khalil Gibran).

I am not one to throw ill will toward anyone who gets a feature film made in Canada, and I hope the makers of this tragedy move on to better things. That this film managed to acquire government funding is the true travesty. Early in his career, Telefilm and others of its ilk received withering criticism for funding the early films of one David Cronenberg. And yet when an ersatz psychological thriller is made (masking as mock-horror), mum's the word. Perhaps the less said about crud like this the better. What kind of innovative artists are refused public monies while this kind of programming trash gets the green-light? Is the next Cronenberg writhing in obscurity while poorly-shot hokum gets a wide pass?

Meh. Who am I to complain? I'm the one who watched the piece of shit. Although in my defence, I will say that this is one of the more punishing compromises one makes in a marriage.

Moral: Government funding bodies should exert greater courage in the movies they back. And to that end, I put forward my idea for "Old People Fucking"--light on plot, but heavy on characterization...if you know what I mean.

Secondary moral: don't drill a hole in your head.