REASON TO GRIPE

May 2008 is a time for gripes. Economic-stimulus checks from the U.S. government are not enough to quell the public’s gripes about the price of gasoline, which, I am sure you have noticed, is extremely fucking steep. Even the recent lottery winners who purchased a ticket at Ma & Pa’s on the Miracle Mile bitch about how much it costs to replenish their Bentleys when they make pit-stops there. The American breed craves independent transportation in fast machines. We are resentful of this crisis, wondering how steep the ceiling will climb.

I have little interest in the price of gasoline because I don’t own a car. My mind wonders how steep a different ceiling will climb: my medical bills. I can’t seem to avoid hospitals for a prolonged period of time. The day I was diagnosed with O.C.D. at the age of 15, my hand was stamped in permanent red marker to allow me convenient access back into the hospital for future visits. I was introduced to the entire staff at the hospital so that I could be on a first-name basis with not just the doctors and nurses but also the receptionists, gift shop cashiers, and janitors. Christ, I still owe Janitor Phil a Secret Santa present from last Christmas. And he won’t shut up about it!

My latest medical misfortune is a broken jaw. Legally, I am discouraged from communicating in complete sentences on the matter...Heart in right place, me try stop fight. Violence bad. Extra-blended mashed potatoes yummy.

That’s a load off!

I mention my run-in with Misters Innocent until Proven Guilty 1 and 2 only to reference the influx of gripes we are experiencing personally and globally. Griping in itself resolves very little, but I have always found comedic griping to be a source of redemption. Petty redemption perhaps, but I take what I can get from this stupefying world. Griping landed me a job writing comedy for the Advance-Titan at UW-Oshkosh. Before I joined the staff, I used to send a few e-mails per week to the Gripe Line. The Gripe Line lent a voice to the students whose hangover recovery was curtailed by the poseur metal-heads from the sixth floor of their dorm who blared the song “Headstrong” every weekday at 7 a.m. And so forth. If you could express concise agitation in a comical fashion, the Gripe Line was your outlet.

I have assembled here my favorite gripes from this era, all of which were printed anonymously alongside of complaints about people who ritualistically celebrate the song “Headstrong” by (gulp) Trapt.

Enjoy these gripes while I think up some original comedy that doesn’t involve me getting punched in the face.

1.) If life is really all just a dream, think of how many times you’ve unknowingly pissed the bed.
2.) The person who coined the phrase “smooth as a baby’s bottom” sounds like a real perv to me.
3.) Remember when our grade school teachers told us we had to learn cursive because our high school teachers would forbid us from writing freehand? The fuckers lied to us.
4.) Phone sex is okay, but you haven’t lived ‘til you’ve tried Morse Code sex.
5.) If I had but one superhuman power, I’d want the ability to scratch my butt with my mind. ‘Cause let’s face it, we’ve all had that inopportune butt-itch at a wedding or funeral.
6.) The other day I saw a heavyset girl wearing a high school track sweatshirt. A bit puzzled, I said to her, “Shot-put, right?”
7.) People are pretty crazy, but have you ever seen a dog barking out the window at a leaf scuttling by? Dogs are fucking BONKERS!
8.) Dirt Devil? What kind of a name is that for a vacuum? They might as well call it the “Soil Satan.”
9.) Christmas Eve is the smartest time to rob the North Pole.
10.) Neighborhood Watch Programs are essential in deterring society’s most pussified criminals.
11.) If prostitution is the world’s oldest profession, how were the jobless men able to pay for sex? Think about it, Gripe Line.
12.) The Athlete’s Foot is the only store I can think of that is named after a fungus.
13.) I love seeing “Minimum Speed Limit” signs alongside of the highway. They might as well read, “Just don’t pussyfoot it, granny.”
14.) G.P.S. Navigation Systems are bullshit. There’s no way a plate of German Potato Salad is going to tell you how to get to your destination.
15.) I haven’t been invited to an orgy in months. Gripe Line, be honest, is it because of my love-handles?
16.) My pet snake is taking FOREVER to make his first move in Stratego. Hurry the heck up, Morpheus. Jeez!
17.) Rock-a-holic rain stick player psyched about starting a heavy metal quintet. Influences include: Dokken, Warrant, Jackyll, and the Weather Channel’s “Storm Stories.” Stryper fans need not apply. Auditions are Friday in basement of Reeve building. Musicians are encouraged to bring me a sandwich.
18.) I sent a fan letter to Xzibit begging him to pimp my moped, but he never wrote back. Fuck him, and fuck my hopelessly un-pimped Razz ’97.
19.) Damnb thewse styubby7 fringers ofd mi9ne! (Get it?)
20.) The future would be less terrifying if our pubic hair fell out as we got older rather than turned gray.