THANK GOD IT'S FRIDAY
ADVERTISING GONE WILD I'm a late night person and an avid television watcher. I'm also like most other heterosexual men out there. I like girls. And I like it when they go wild. But if I have to sit through one more fucking Girls Gone Wild commercial on late night television, I might be leading the charge to force these 18 year old sluts to put their shirts on. OK already, we get it, girls have tits. Some of them like attention. Some of them use their tits to get attention. I'm not exactly sure that classifies them as having gone wild, but for now, I'll play along. The television stations obviously get paid every single time they air the Girls Gone Wild commercials because they seem to air more than the fucking shows I'm trying to watch. Every single commercial break. Sometimes twice. And it's always the same commercial. Sometimes they play it back to back. The worst part is, due to the F.C.C. "protecting" the American public from seeing any nudity on TV, they don't even show you the girls actually getting topless. Look, if you want me to buy one of your tapes, show me the girl one or two times and then take her away so I'm forced to pay to see her again. Don't show her face 500,000 times and then ask me to buy videos of her. By the time I've watched four late night shows, I've seen these girls faces enough times to make me want to kill myself. I think from now on the Girls Gone Wild people should pay me for every time I have to sit through another one of their fucking ads. In an attempt to meet them half way, I will accept payment in the form of paypal or titty pictures (which can be mailed to firstname.lastname@example.org) IMAGINARY FAN LETTER OF THE WEEK With all the imaginary fan mail letters I've been getting here at SPOON FULL OF TRUTH, I thought it would be fair to recognize this accomplishment by sharing one of them with you today. Here it is: "Dear D. Jacob Miller, your blog is wonderful, creative, thoughtful, truthful, and frankly, my reason for living. Until you began this literary marvel a few short months ago, I had lost all reason to live. Since discovering, and religiously reading your blog, my life has changed in many positive ways. My boss at work promoted me because he said I suddenly seem smarter. Where I used to be a dud with the ladies, I have now become somewhat of a pussy magnet. After sharing your work with others I developed a large number of friends. In fact my calendar is full through August of 2012. Most of all, I don't feel alone anymore. Please don't ever stop writing. Without your insight, the world will surely be lost. Sincerely, Your Imagination. BETTER KNOW YOUR BLOGGER In an attempt to connect with my readers, I'm going give you a glimpse into the world of D. Jacob Miller. Please keep your hands and feet inside the car and do not stand up until the ride has come to a complete stop. The following is a list of several (but not all) of the things I dig: Music! Dancing, My Wife, Small lounge-type nightclubs, Hiking, Sports, Theater, Violin, Cooking, Writing, Being overly silly, Camping, Reading, Pancakes at 3am (breakfast food at anytime other than breakfast really), Pajamas, Running, Bars, Random Road Trips, Traveling, Photography, Snow, Parks in the City, Pugs, When people fall down, Intoxication (by whatever means you choose), I love you Mary Jane, When pretty girls smile, MILLER beer (the name more so than the taste), The Zoo, Comedy Improv, "Canadian Pudding", Doing things I know I shouldn't, Perogies, Falafel, Irish Car Bombs (Although I don't like Guinness otherwise), Larry David, Jon Stewart, Bill Maher, Cheese, Cuban Cigars (Thanks to my younger brother), GI JOE, Dense Fog, Fondue, Haunted Places, Being Right, Being reaaaally Wrong, Your Mom, Places that don't let you smoke inside, Good sex, Fruit, Cold Weather, Swimming in the Ocean, Being really smart, Other smart people, Witty banter, SARCASM, Having the world's largest penis, Lying and telling people i have the world's largest penis, My Shore House, My Friends, Other people curled up next to me, making the world's best guacamole, Eskimo kisses, Watching clueless boys hit on girls, Watching stupid girls fall for it, Sleep-overs, http://www.spoonfulloftruth.com/, and Shameless self promotion. I THINK THINGS ARE MOVING A LITTLE FAST Look just because I told you a few of my favorite things doesn't mean we're like best friends now or something. I mean, you're nice and all, but I hardly know you. I'm sure that you're a really great person, I just don't have time for any new friends right now. No, don't do that. It's not you. Really. It's me. In fact, you're right at the top of my list for potential new friends. Yes, I promise. As soon as I have an opening you'll be the first person I call. I swear. Really? You do? I'm flattered. But I'm sure you just think you love me and you're really just misdirecting your love for my blog into a false feeling of love for me. No, it's OK, you can keep reading it, really. We'll pretend this never even happened. Your secret is safe with me. IS THIS RETARDED OR IS IT JUST ME? Stop putting the fucking cans of soup and other heavy items into the bag on top of other easily damaged items like bread and fruit. Yeah I'm talking to you retarded guy in the checkout lane. I'm all for people of lesser intelligence working. Otherwise 80% of the people who live in the "Red" states, would be out of work. But I'm talking about people who are legally, mentally retarded. Retarded people are generally very upbeat. They make great "greeters" in stores like Walmart and Target. But stop letting them fucking bag my groceries in the grocery store. Every fucking time I get the retarded bagger they put the bread at the bottom and the heavy shit on top and I have a smashed, useless loaf of bread when I get home. Just stand there, and smile, and I'll bag my own fucking groceries and everyone will be happy. So to recap, I am all for retarded people having jobs, as long as they are actually able to perform the functions of that job. And yes, I'd like fries with that. I'M CALLING YOU OUT FAT BOY I was attempting to hook up a dvd player to a TV in our den yesterday, so I could watch a movie while I went for a run on our treadmill. I found that I was missing an RCA cable, and decided to head over to the closest store I knew would carry them, Radioshack. There is a Radioshack on Chestnut Street in Philadelphia, between 15th and 16th Streets. This story takes place there. I entered the Radioshack and was greeted by a man behind the counter who asked if he could help me. I told him what I needed and he turned to the 350 pound salesman behind him and asked him if he'd heard what I had said. Tubby said he had. He huffed and puffed his way to the front end of the store (much closer than the back end of the store), looked blankly at the wall, and told me they were all out of them. Discouraged, but not yet ready to give up, I decided to look around myself. Within two minutes I had found three whole racks full of the very RCA cables I was looking for. Obviously this behemoth was not working on commission. I looked over at the counter, he was eying me up. Did he suspect I was on to his rouse? Were my pockets filled with jelly doughnuts? Not wanting to become this man's lunch, I decided not to press the issue and instead began the transaction to purchase the cable. "Did you find everything you were looking for?" the much smaller man at the register inquired. "Yes I did find it" i emphasized. "Do you need batteries with this?" the tubby clerk asked, as he placed my purchase in the bag. Did he fucking think I needed batteries? Was this the world's only RCA cable that ran on batteries? Had I somehow failed to read that on the packaging? I kindly told him no, I did not need batteries. Now I'm sure the majority of people who shop at Radioshack aren't the brightest folks on Earth, but don't lump me in with them. I think I'm smart enough to know what things I need to buy when I go to the store. If I need batteries, I'll fucking buy some batteries. I didn't ask Tubby if he needed a good weight loss program, just because he had obviously lapped me in a fat race. But I am calling him out. You're the first person on the "SPOON FULL OF TRUTH call out list," fat-ass Radioshack guy. Next time you don't want to waddle your quarter-ton frame the whole twenty feet to the back of the store to check on a product for me, just say so. But you were about as sold out of RCA cables, as your video collection is full of exercise tapes. Fuck you for lying. WHERE HAS HE BIN HIDIN'? So there's another Bin Laden tape. Big fucking deal. Do you think it makes the evening news in the Middle East every time there is a new George Bush tape? George Bush and Bin Laden are pretty much the same guy. Both think they are doing what is required by their beliefs and religions. George Bush blows people up, attacks other countries, kills people unjustly, breaks the law, and claims to do it all in the name of "freedom and democracy, and winning the war on terror," To the people of the Middle East, George Bush is a terrorist. He even terrorizes his own people. I'm sure Bin Laden thinks he's just fighting the war on terror too. In the same way that Osama attacks the U.S., Dubya attacks other countries (Iraq ring a bell?) Both men are loose cannons who think that they are fighting terrorists. The fact is, when two people believe two different things so strongly (as these two men do) neither will ever back down, and neither will ever find a middle ground. Personally, I hate them both. I'd like to see them both locked in a room and forced to fight to the death (it might be fun to lock them in a house together for two weeks first for the new season of the Surreal Life) I just don't see how people can vilify Bin Laden, and respect George Bush. It's all semantics. Tomato, tomato. Bin Laden, Bush. THANK GOD IT'S FRIDAY Everyone enjoy the weekend and make sure to check back next week. Because a Spoon Full Of Truth is on everyone's new years' diet. Tell your friends. They'll be sure to thank you later. Also, please check out the last blog "SERIAL KILLER" as I have posted twice today.