Satirical Advice
- Thread starter NemoAlia
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Lancecastor
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The Billy Graham Crusade, Live from Bagdhad.
lovetoread
hello daddy
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I dunno.
what are you thinking of now?
what are you thinking of now?
NemoAlia
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I'm thinking deprecating thoughts about people who write satires that don't have a point, involve the use of lots of snooty foreign phrases, aren't funny, and go way beyond the bounds of good taste.
Perhaps this is why I can't bring myself to begin work: I'm afraid to join those ranks.
Perhaps this is why I can't bring myself to begin work: I'm afraid to join those ranks.
Lancecastor
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NemoAlia said:
Like I said.....Billy Graham in Bagdhad. It works.
NemoAlia
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I've changed my mind. I'm going to write about the practice of naming things after the people who sponsor them. (For example, my college is re-naming the football stadium after some really awful family of capitalists whom nobody likes, but who have given the school a lot of money.) Here's what I have thus far:
Like every young woman, I breathlessly await the day when all of my romantic notions become a rosy reality. Last night, my wishing carried over into my dream – a dream that left me with a warm glow that has lasted all day.
It is morning. I rise from my No Thanks to the In-Laws Bed, my dewy skin still warm from my wrinkled cotton sheets. Looking down, I smile, noticing how handsome my husband is in his sleep. Strong in body and character from years of backbreaking labor, pulling himself up from poverty by his own bootstraps, this man, Government Assistance, has been a constant wellspring of strength and resilience in my own life. With my radiant happiness still apparent on my face, I tear myself away from my husband in order to begin my children’s Miserably Small Grocery Budget Breakfast.
The Grandma Saylor’s Life Insurance Policy Kitchen is the unofficial Trashy Previous Owners Living Room of my family’s Years of Scrimping and Saving Home. Every morning, we gather here to exchange our words of love and support that will sustain our spirits through the coming day. While I am brewing the morning coffee, my children troop in to set the table and pour themselves each a bowl of wholesome, unsweetened cereal. “Good morning, Christmas Bonus,” I trill, “Good morning, Anonymous Gift. How did the two of you sleep?”
“Oh, I slept fine, Mom, except when Humane Society jumped into my bed and wouldn’t stop clawing at me. I think she must have seen a mouse, she was so frightened!”
Like every young woman, I breathlessly await the day when all of my romantic notions become a rosy reality. Last night, my wishing carried over into my dream – a dream that left me with a warm glow that has lasted all day.
It is morning. I rise from my No Thanks to the In-Laws Bed, my dewy skin still warm from my wrinkled cotton sheets. Looking down, I smile, noticing how handsome my husband is in his sleep. Strong in body and character from years of backbreaking labor, pulling himself up from poverty by his own bootstraps, this man, Government Assistance, has been a constant wellspring of strength and resilience in my own life. With my radiant happiness still apparent on my face, I tear myself away from my husband in order to begin my children’s Miserably Small Grocery Budget Breakfast.
The Grandma Saylor’s Life Insurance Policy Kitchen is the unofficial Trashy Previous Owners Living Room of my family’s Years of Scrimping and Saving Home. Every morning, we gather here to exchange our words of love and support that will sustain our spirits through the coming day. While I am brewing the morning coffee, my children troop in to set the table and pour themselves each a bowl of wholesome, unsweetened cereal. “Good morning, Christmas Bonus,” I trill, “Good morning, Anonymous Gift. How did the two of you sleep?”
“Oh, I slept fine, Mom, except when Humane Society jumped into my bed and wouldn’t stop clawing at me. I think she must have seen a mouse, she was so frightened!”
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