Poor Mojo's Almanac(k) Classic issue #377 (published April 10, 2008): "Knavish fellows. Such capers!"
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Poor Mojo's Almanac(k) Classic issue #377 (published April 10, 2008)
Knavish fellows. Such capers!
Giant Squid: Ask the Giant Squid: The Love That Dares Not Compute Its Name by the Giant SquidHi,
Bionicwoman here. My question is of a romantic nature, I am not sure if you can help me out here. I have a crush on a man who is quite a bit younger than myself. He seems to be a little bit intimidated, any suggestions for putting him at ease that do not involve large amounts of drugs and alcohol (I already tried that)?
Signed,
Bionicwoman
#
Dear Lovelorn Cyborg,
Once I did find myself in quite the opposite position that you are now in. . . .
Fiction: Two Left of Center by Matthew LongoThe lights flicker on, and I am alone in a white trash world. I see a ghostly pale family trudging along with the overbearing weight of each other staggering their steps. Dad's got a self-shaved head and loose fitting, tattered clothes that wouldn't look out of place in a low-budget rap video. His walk and his talk are black, even though there is no doubt in my mind that he's a racist. A big pudgy wife and a little pudgy daughter stand behind him, already defeated at today's early hour. Their groceries are scarce and inessential. Whoever pioneered the idea of buying bulk goods would be horrified at the display of Twinkies, coke, and T.V. dinners that litter their shopping cart. I'm not disgusted. That's not why I'm telling you this. I'm terrified. This middle class border is drawn much too thin. If I cut my hair too close, will that be it for me? If I don't feel like leaving it long? Is that all it would take to turn me into a customer? It's like that old Puritan idea that God can open up the gates of hell beneath your feet at any moment He chooses. But the roots of the problem run deeper than hair: I simply wasn't meant to be out of this place, this white trash world, this mindset. I'm a twenty-year old minimum wage boy on the track to becoming a forty year old minimum wage man. I can rattle myself just by looking into the mirror of the break room for too long. I can see the skin around my eyes start to sag, and the calendars flip and the summer girls go to college, and I am still here. With my big pudgy wife, heating up the plastic meals she purchased with the coupons she clipped. . . .
Poetry: Prufrock's Movie Mania by Kristine Ong MuslimI have spent restless nights watching rented DVDs
Of Drew Barrymore shaking her package of Shake N' Bake
Of B-movies about teenagers eaten by a monster in the lake,
Of Sigourney Weaver, the alien mama
Of Conan being spat on by a llama. . . .
Rant: TITLE: DRUNK FUCK by Cruz A. Fernandez"PASTE YOUR SUBMISSION HERE!"
Paste this! I'm not pasting shit. I'm writing this right here right now! I'm drinking a pint of Arrogant Bastard Ale and reading Poor Mojo. I'm soused and I'm horny and I'm all by my self. I'm a poor fucking mojo looser.
Don't get me wrong, this isn't a load of crap from some fat loner alcoholic. Though, I have gained a bit of weight. I'm just a guy who can't quite get his shit together. The rant I was reading that inspired me to put this bit of dribble on to the submission page was about relationships and it got stuff moving in my pants. Well, actually it made me feel like a blathering idiot, which got stuff moving in my pants. . . .
