Two Words: Golden Bigness

Is the Golden Bigness within you?

If you’re not a woman or a minority, the answer is an undeniable YES! You DO have Golden Bigness within you, and the blog is now dedicated to helping you discover it!

Golden Bigness has been determined to be the “X factor” which will enable you to succeed in business, relationships, and even hobbies like fishing or making your own ice cream. Don’t let your fears or a troubled past keep you from scaling the heights you were meant to---discover your Golden Bigness before someone else takes it!

Ever wonder how that star quarterback manages to throw a touchdown blitz, or how a police officer scores a big drug bust? Do you ever think to yourself, "How the heck do fabulous people win Halloween costume contests while I sit alone in my room night after night?" The answer is clear: they seized their own Golden Bigness, cultivated it, and let it shine. Until now, no one knew how to do it except them---but now their secret is out, and they hate everyone for it! The secret belongs to YOU, and the road to greatness is yours to savor.


Q: How do I go about bringing out my Golden Bigness in order to lead a better life?

A: The best thing about your Golden Bigness is that it’s the one part of your innerness that can be brought out with sheer physical effort. We have found that the best way to release it is through squeezing yourself through two closely set, rigid objects like a door frame or tree. There may be some pain involved, but the greater the effort, the more amazing the feeling of finding your Bigness will be! Some people even report being able to release their Bigness through shutting their eyes tight and pounding their head against a cupboard or yield sign. Once it’s out, there’s no stopping you---your confidence, courage, and charisma will all reach Star Wars levels!

Q: Will I also lose weight?

A: We guarantee that you’ll not only lose weight, but you’ll keep it off too. Rumors that you may become grossly obese are wildly untrue and have been maliciously spread in order to undermine the program, its sponsors, and the hardworking people of middle America.

Q: How much will it cost me to find my Golden Bigness?

A: The actual finding and releasing of your Golden Bigness is ABSOLUTELY FREE, and your credit card will not be charged the $250 processing fee until you’re fully satisfied that your life has changed for the better!

Q: My credit card was charged for the processing fee somehow even before I enrolled in the program. Why is that?

A: Only your Golden Bigness---a mystical concept re-discovered after more than four THOUSAND years---holds the key to lifelong success and a brand new outlook on life. This exciting wave of the future, which renders all other self-help programs obsolete in less than fifteen seconds, has been embraced by celebrities such as Valerie Perrine and Lee J. Cobb. Call today!


Special Deliveries

All right, we’re going to just put this to a vote. We’ll put it to a vote, and whatever the majority says, then the issue is settled either way. Because we’ve been debating this for six hours now, and I’m hungry and tired and I just want to go home. Okay, so, we’ll do this the old-fashioned way. All in favor of having a cake party on Friday afternoon because the very last body part of the unidentified drifter who was murdered in 1998 was just finally sent to the precinct by his killer, raise your right hand. Okay, that’s one….two….five…nine. We have nine Yes votes. Okay, everyone who thinks the cake party would be in "bad taste", completely missing the point of how cool it really is that after eleven years and nineteen different UPS packages, each containing a single body part, we finally have the last piece of that dude in evidence, then raise your hand. Hmmm…three…six…eleven….twelve….sixteen…

Twenty-six….thirty-two….okay, I guess we know the answer then, there’s no point in counting further. So no cake party on Friday afternoon. So who volunteers to tell Bill Whitelaw and Gary Gulpis, the men who have been methodically investigating this case for eleven years, that they will not be taking a break to enjoy a little Entenmann’s going into the long holiday weekend because it would be in “bad taste”? Because I’ll tell you something, it isn’t going to be me. What am I missing here? First of all, let’s have a little respect for the killer, whoever he might be. Eleven YEARS of packages? You think any of our kids are going to grow up with that kind of patience? Which reminds me, Mark, that might be something to toss into the ol’ psychological profile: I’ll bet he’s older than thirty, because anyone younger than that has all the patience of a crappy Fourth of July sparkler. Doesn’t everyone remember how excited we got when we realized the killer’s plan to slowly send the body in delightful little vignettes, giving us something to look forward to every few months? Don’t pretend you’ve forgotten our childlike collective glee when a new package came bearing an ear or a tibia---especially you, Darla. We’ve gotten more body parts in the mail than you’ve had dates since 1998, so a little gratitude might even be in order. And keep an eye on the big picture here: we’re never, ever going to get another limb here at the station. An era has passed. It really has.

Okay, I’ll get off the topic. So on Friday afternoon we’ll all just work straight through till three-thirty. What a bunch of killjoys. Scotland Yard has really changed.


An American Tragedy

Faithful readers, it has come to my attention that at 4:29 a.m. on November 10, 2008, there was a sad thing that happened. On that date, in that moment, the PA system in the Fair Hills Shopping Center in Oshinsky, Michigan was fully operational and faithfully playing its rotation of pre-selected shopper-friendly hits from the seventies and eighties when Foreigner’s “Hot Blooded” came on. Now none of us would expect the shopping center to be filled at 4:29 a.m., but the facts incontrovertibly show that not one human being, animal, or other entity heard a single note or word of Foreigner’s wonderful “Hot Blooded” during that pre-dawn moment. Even the shopping center security camera failed to capture the song’s valiant play, someone having forgotten to change the tape in the machine the week before. The tragic fact we are left with is that there was seemingly no point at all in softly broadcasting the sexy bass line which acts as a precursor to the tune’s legendary lyrics, which begin thusly:

I'm hot blooded, check it and see.
I got a fever of a hundred and three.
Come on baby, do you do more than dance?
I'm hot blooded. Hot blooded.

It was simply heard by no one, not even a vagrant or squirrel. The sidewalk alone absorbed the sounds which had once bedazzled millions. The facts prove it beyond a shadow of a lonely doubt. The song went on, but it didn’t matter one whit:

You don't have to read my mind to know what I have in mind.
Honey you oughta know.
Now you move so fine, let me lay it on the line.
I wanna know what you're doin' after the show.

At Payless Shoes, the window display rack of value-priced footwear could neither hear nor understand Foreigner’s noble effort, even though the front door is right below the speaker, and the JOIN US FOR NATIONAL STRAWBERRY MONTH sign hanging in Baskin Robbins sure as hell didn’t register anything either. The song ended after three minutes and fifty-seven seconds with words that only underscored how much of a mournful joke this episode truly was:

Hot blooded, every night.
Hot blooded, you're looking so tight.
Hot blooded, now you're driving me wild.
Hot blooded, I'm so hot for you, child.
Hot blooded, I'm a little bit high.
Hot blooded, you're a little bit shy.
Hot blooded, you're making me sing.
Hot blooded, for your sweet sweet thing.

And so it faded into silence. We now know that not ten seconds after it passed from the world and “Ebony and Ivory” began to play, a thirty-two year old crack addict walked through the parking lot on the way to his grandmother’s house, so at least THAT song didn’t go to complete waste.

My original point of conveying this information becomes a lot clearer when you realize I haven’t had anything to eat since that bowl of Crispix on Tuesday.