They say that “no man is an island,” but I disagree. I think we are all capable of being islands, but because humans seem to mostly be social creatures, they seem to think that we should not be islands. According to them, it is healthiest to be part of a big land mass teeming with herd animals. But being remote and inaccessible definitely has its perks. Take it from me, a devotee to the School of Aloofness, located on Emotional Isolation Island.
The benefits of being a reticent character might not be obvious to the uninitiated, so allow me to explain a bit before I give you some hot tips on how to improve your life. We all love attention, don’t we? When you are a mysterious figure, you become extremely intriguing. Other people won’t stop talking about you, and you don’t even have to do a thing! Just evade a series of personal questions, and you’ll be a delicious source of speculation. Appear as though a normal social interaction is as invasive as unrelenting scrutiny, and the contrary folks around you can’t help but wonder why. Let them wonder. Let them TALK.
That satisfaction of feeling like a strangely compelling character is the #1 draw, but if I have to have MORE reasons, I guess another one is that it cuts down on having to keep any stories straight, or accidentally revealing something told to you in confidence. If you are the sort of person who feels a little stressed over such possibilities, then just become mysterious. It’s easy once you get the hang of it! Let me tell you how.
The human celebrity is a creature that is much sought-after indeed. For whatever reason, these celebrity people have given up any chance of privacy or normal living so that they can be recognized wherever they go, mobbed by crowds of frightening strangers, followed by photographers, ambushed by undercover police, and hunted by stalkers. I suppose they enjoy all of that attention, and of course also the millions of dollars that are delivered to them by dump truck every morning. It would be all peaches and sunshine if these famous people could get attention, cash dollars, and sprawling mansions without having to feel annoyed or even occasionally terrified. It would be rainbows and roses if they could only be seen in clubs and restaurants and gated communities where only other pretty people with equal levels of wealth and fame could see each other and they’d never ever be bothered by gross icky nobodies like the rest of us.
However, this is simply not the case.
Modern celebrities must indulge us by appearing to be reasonably nice and approachable (preferably without having to demonstrate these traits too often) because if they do not, then their beloved popularity can suffer. And popularity is very, very important. If they fall out of favor, it is sometimes quite difficult to ever return to their former glory.
I am going to explain to you all how to wheedle yourselves into the lives of any celebrity of your choosing by coming across as charming, lovely, and worthwhile through written letters. You’ll thank me when this is all over, although I may get some anger from the famous person quadrant if you don’t get it right, so please pay attention.
There are a lot of different kind of gift-givers out there. Some are good, some are bad. Some are confusing, while some give you comfort. Also, some people don’t give gifts (I’m looking at you, little sister). It’s fine though. Being good or bad, there or not, in regards to presents, does not make you a good or bad person.
If you don’t give gifts because you’re bad at it, I’m here to help. If you don’t give them because you just don’t want to, there is no help for you. I’m also here to help if you’re bad at it, and still give them. Hey you, that’s an A for effort!
Lately I’ve been trying to find something that I can eat for lunch at work that doesn’t come out of that part of the frozen meal section that oh so many middle-aged women huddle around at your local supermarket. While those frozen meals are generally okay, I find myself slowly spiraling into depression more and more with every microwave thawing of one. I have no idea why. Maybe because it makes me sad that I would much rather be eating SpaghettiOs straight out of the can than sitting there deciding if I would rather get another frozen brick of French Mushroom Italian Delight Panini, or Italian Lobster Fish Fart Bake. At least SpaghettiOs have a taste. They taste like SpaghettiOs. All of that frozen stuff just tastes like microwave radiation, no matter how many fancy ingredients you claim are in it.
As much as I would like to just drink a can of SpaghettiOs at work, I feel I need to be a bit more “adult” in my lunch approach. So I did what any confused person that has no clue what the fuck they want does at the supermarket and wandered into the mystical International Foods aisle. I was instantly greeted with more than a few lunch options: mostly a bunch of generic rice packets and other assorted ricey things. But that shit need not even apply because out of the corner of my eye, I spotted these little beauties:
Is Seasonal Affective Disorder bringing you down? Do you know what SAD even is? It sounds made up, for sure, but who doesn’t get SAD in the winter? Everybody knows that summertime is the best season and that winter belongs in Hell, with chewing gum, and that sigh people make after taking a big gulp of soda. Anyway, Dr. Dollissa is here to help.
Recently, I was shopping when something occurred to me: I had left my wallet at home. Also, I noticed that there was a large amount of shelf space devoted to various shaving devices. Lotions, creams, oils, all manner of blades, chains, whips, and soldering irons abound in the shaving section. Intrigued, I started querying a clerk about some of the more exotic items.
“Fascinating items you have here,” I said, holding up a large instrument. “What do you call this?”
“Pruning shears,” the clerk replied.
“Ahh. And how does one shave with this?”
“Sir, this is a hardware store, and that is a weed whacker.”
“In that case, I wish to complain about this Wing Nuts breakfast cereal.”
After I had sorted things out with the store manager, my mind returned to shaving. How was it invented? And why? I resolved to find out. A trip to the library was in order.
Getting a job in this day and age is like trying to buy a date with a celebrity at an auction: you’re surrounded by competitors both more desperate and with greater resources, the process is shady and creepy, and it’s for something that’s not all that great if you get it. There was a time when your college degree opened doors, now every Sandwich Artist has at least an MBA from an online university, if not a medieval history degree from Brown. How do you get noticed in such a market? What hope do you have to land a job on your career trajectory before you’re as old as the baby boomers who still won’t retire? Well read on, good madam or sir, for here is Sneer Campaign’s Guide to Getting Your Resume To Stand Out From The Enormous Pile In The HR Wastebasket.
Step one is to have had helicopter parents force you on a college trajectory since birth. While your loser peers were playing with toys and having birthday parties, you were practicing the zither and volunteering in burn wards. It also helps to have a frat douche dad – he’ll know what strings to pull. But not all of us have been blessed with parents who had the foresight to rob us of our childhoods in order to shoehorn us onto a white-collar career vector that we would not have necessarily chosen on our own. Here’s how to make the glut of applicants work for you.
There are a lot of methods for organizing yourself out there, especially lately. Sure, we’ve always had to-do lists and calendars and sticky notes, but now we have Bullet Journal and things like Evernote. Some people, as always, still use the Being An Adult Human and Both Remembering and Accomplishing Everything Without a Crazy List and Notebook Procedure, or The Sandy Cohen, as I like to call it.
Here at Sneer Campaign, we do not use any of those above methods. That is because we have our very own fool-proof system for organization.
It is an outrageous fact of life that songs can easily get stuck in your head. Even when it is a song you love, eventually, after enough of a while, you begin to go insane. You might even begin to hate the song in much the same way that when you binge on a favorite treat, you become ill and can’t take the taste for a good long time.
This is certainly terrible, to see something you love turn into poison, but it isn’t nearly as bad as having a song you already hated to begin with get stuck in there. It is a form of torture. There is no silver lining. Terrible lyrics set to a criminally catchy tune will rake at your very being until it is raw and threadbare. You tell everyone of your tragedy, and they understand. We all understand. We’ve all had it happen to us.
Some people call these catchy songs “ear worms,” a fitting name that reminds you of vile parasites draining you of your essence. It’s true. This music wriggles into your brain and eats holes in there. There are probably as many remedies for ear worms as there are for hiccups. Listen to another song, listen to the offending song, put a pillow over your head and scream, scream until you hurt: all with varying results.
Well, I have happened upon a new method.Continue reading
We humans have always been preoccupied with the end of our civilization. Sure, we have pocket-sized computers that can send signals across undersea cables to people on other continents virtually instantaneously, but on the other hand, a disturbing number of us use this to send pictures of our genitals to these people, often while driving. So it’s understandable that we tend to think our glory days of international space stations and individually wrapped cheese slices are numbered, and that we’re just one drunken diplomat away from going back to drawing penis gods in caves and killing each other with rocks and twigs.
Some even look forward to this day, convinced that they’re special and chosen and have what it takes to survive the aftermath of a global pandemic, when the fit 21-year-old they watch jog by three times a day from their sofa does not. You won’t be winded after yank-starting your lawnmower then, no sir! You’ll be the leader of a grizzled group of survivors, fighting daily for survival and eagerly scarfing down a bag of dry lentils as your first food in three days. Who needs a coffee shop on every corner and plentiful food? Bring on the economic riots!
This mindset has spawned a subculture called “Doomsday Preppers,” who spend much of their free time converting basements and digging backyard bunkers because they know that a major civilizational collapse is coming, and some bottled water and freeze-dried burritos are going to help them survive a good six weeks longer than the rest of us. There doesn’t seem to be a consensus among this community as to which doomsday is coming. Some wait for nuclear holocaust, others for economic collapse, yet more for ecological disaster, and many just sit among their pallets of creamed corn and rock back and forth while murmuring “Obama” over and over.
I know you want in on this action before you are stuck in the ruins of a major city fleeing from a group of sexual cannibals chasing you on scooters with spikes welded to them while they wear discarded football gear, so here’s what you need to know to build a fortified bunker to escape to, along with several attractive members of your preferred gender who will show up just like in those movies on Showtime.