It is unlikely you will ever find me wearing this: The best part of this shirt I think is if your skin tone is off, rather than a tattoo it will just look like a bad shirt. Oh wait, it just looks like a bad shirt.

Cliched “avid readers” may remember my apparent hatred of a job candidate. Maybe it’s the karmic energy of unloading about him here rather than more harmfully to the people who needed to hear my feedback (I opted for constructive comments, rather than rabid ranting, because I’m a “team player”). Anyway, he will not be joining me on our “team” and, in fact, it looks like what will be implemented is a version of the alternative plan I suggested. The downside is, I won’t be able to implement my going down in a blaze of glory exit strategy.

Other readers may remember some scathing shit I wrote about a chick here who is so girly I grimace in return to all smiles in her presence unable to succumb to the charms of her incessant nervous giggle, which masks her complete inability to master simple accounting basics like arithmetic. (And, frankly if you do remember, what the fuck, you really ought to get out more, turn off the computer, have an ice cream sundae, um, live.) Anyway, that chick will apparently be grabbing her hat and heading for the door moments before it ass slaps her.

SO, BEHOLD WORLD, my foolish tapping here is mighty. Mere words from my keyboard and you are gone. Done. Finished.

I must be careful. It is truly an awesome power, I must harness and use wisely.

In a complete contrast and a vivid reminder of my true impotency, I suppose I should also compile a list of shows that don’t want me and other assorted failings in the world of comedy. Looks like the Boston Comedy Festival’s list of comedians has been updated.

And, yup, yours truly is not among the ranks.

I think my new comedy goal should be total exclusion from all local comedy activity. At this rate, should be easy. (One might point out that these setbacks could very well be an indication of the quality of my product. But, truly, and not delusionally, if one were to delve into the wretched pools that comprise the comedy “scene” one, objectively, would find “good” and “bad” are not the sole criteria for time on stage.) Ahh, why do I do this shit at all?