Heuristic Squelch: Well, we at the Heuristic Squelch would first like to thank you for this grand opportunity to interview you, the 40th President of the United States. We understand you have been a little under the weather lately. However, we know many Americans keep you dear in their hearts and think of you daily. I hope that this interview will bring them all a bit closer to the greatest world leader of the 1980’s.
Ronald Reagan: [dropping Raggedy Ann doll] Mush mush!!! MUSH potato!
HS: Hmmm. So, let’s get started. You once said you “learned in Washington, that that’s the only place where sound travels faster than light.” [laughs] Well, that’s a pretty witty thing to say, and we’re impressed the former President of the United States is up to date with his laws of physics. Do you still feel politicians need to be extra critical about what they say? Or is the speed of light now a little faster than when you remember? If you catch my drift.
RR: Pretty boy in my room. It’s a pretty boy in my room. Come play pretty boy. [holds out carrot]
HS: Carrot. No thanks. Yeah, I guess I do have a striking physical presence and sense of style. That’s a kind observation, Mr. Reagan. Or should I call you Mr. President, or former Mr. President Reagan? I’ve never been good about talking to prior Presidents. The etiquette seems so strange. Anyways, please do stay focused upon the task at hand and answer my questions.
RR: [licking curtains]
HS: I’m sure you’re aware, or maybe you’re not, that the world is very much in disarray right now. We have looming threats across the globe. And it’s at times like these that we look to our national leaders. You played a crucial role in stabilizing gas prices and destabilizing the countries in the Middle East in the 80’s. How can we best do that today?
RR: Sssh! Talky talky make me sweepy.
HS: I’m starting to get the feeling that you’re not exactly following the purpose of today’s interview. We’re here to honor you [pointing] by reminiscing upon past glories. Masquerading as a little boy in an old man’s body isn’t exactly going to win you points in this country. [Nancy Reagan brings tray with mashed potatoes and gravy]
RR: Baafftime! Ya-ya-ya. [dumps gravy on own head]
HS: That’s pretty ridiculous. You’ve dumped the tray of food your poor wife prepared all over yourself. You’re drenched with gravy. How could I possibly proceed with this interview? Do you honestly expect me to dump gravy on my head? That is preposterous. I come from a breed of professional journalists. That is not our style, Mr. Reagan.
RR: Making new friends! [smiles, hugs Nancy, smears gravy off head on to her blouse]
HS: Well, you haven’t made any friends on this side of the table. I’m sorry to say this, but how my parents could have voted for you is beyond me. It’s no wonder you sent this nation to the brink of nuclear war and economic disaster. No offense Mrs. Reagan, but my patience has been tested thoroughly.
Nancy Reagan: He’s my sweetie. We’ll make it true the hard times. Always have. Daddy got an old boo-boo on the noggin. Stem cells are going to make it all better. Fix ol’ Ronnie up with a band-aid. That’s my boy. All mashed potatoes inside and out.
HS: Oooohhh … So he has some sort of medical condition that’s degraded his intellect and memory, confined him to his bed, and made him dependent upon others for nourishment and simple bodily hygiene. I should have guessed earlier by the firefighter PJs, blended bottles of food, and foam walls that something was wrong. Well, thanks for inviting us into your home. And Ronnie, thanks for your time. God knows it’s limited.
Throughout history, Webster’s defines half-Jew as “One who is half-Jewish.” What is often overlooked in this mess is what exactly this means in terms of social history. Recent anthropological and archaeological research has shed new light on prominent events in half-Jew history. We have faithfully reenacted some of these scenarios below.
The Spanish Inquisition
Inquisitor: So, Jew, must we ask you to convert or do we need to torture you?
Half-Jew: I’m not Jewish.
Inquisitor: Ah, so then you accept Christ Jesus as your Lord and Savior?
Half-Jew: No.
Inquisitor: Ah, so then you are a Jew!
Half-Jew: Not really.
Inquisitor: Ah, so then you accept Christ Jesus as your Lord and Savior?
Half-Jew: No.
Inquisitor: Ah, so then you are a Jew!
Half-Jew: Not really.
Being Interviewed for a Job
Interviewer: So why’d you quit your job as a stand-up comic?
Half-Jew: Only half my jokes were funny.
Interviewer: I see. Why’d you leave the accounting firm?
Half-Jew: Well, I managed to cut costs pretty well, but only half as well as my colleagues.
Interviewer: And then what about your job as a motion picture producer?
Half-Jew: I managed to raise only half the needed capital for my projects.
Interviewer: Look, I’m beginning to find your track record personally offensive.
Half-Jew: Can I help it if I’m mediocre?
The Passover Seder
Rabbi: And Blessed art Thou, Lord our God, Ruler of the Universe, Creator of the Fruit of the Vine!
Congregation: And Blessed art Thou, Lord our God, Ruler of the Universe, Creator of the Fruit of the Vine!
Half-Jew: I’ll say. Hey, anyone have some horseradish for my matzo and ham sandwich?
At the Jew-Supply Store
Half-Jew: Yes, I’d like to purchase one yarmulke and a pair of scissors.
Clerk: Oh really?
Half-Jew: Yeah, I need to wear the yarmulke at my cousin’s bat mitzvah and I figured the scissors would be a good present for her.
Clerk: That’s a pretty shitty present.
Half-Jew: Well, I hate my cousin.
The Bat Mitzvah
Half-Jew: What a wonderful Bat Mitzvah! Congratulations Sara!
Cousin Sara: Fuck you. Those scissors sucked. And I can’t believe you cut your yarmulke in half.
After millennia of increasing demand from His growing fan base, God has finally announced that a follow-up to His popular first bestseller, The Bible, will arrive on book-shelves as early as mid-October. Though the author has chosen to keep the details of His new book under wraps, inside sources have revealed that this volume will feature far more judgment and 12% more sodomy. According to God’s publishers, this edition will also include half a dozen additional Commandments and “a bustier, more prolific messiah.”
Despite the success God enjoyed with The Bible, friends and family have leaked out that He is nervous about the sales of His second book, the title of which has yet to be released. God plans to promote the new book with forty days and forty nights of rainfall and a book-signing tour at Borders across the nation.
Todd of April 2003,
This is Todd of April 2033, thirty years into the future! Don’t believe me? Note that the stamps commemorate the tenth anniversary of 2023, and that the Return Address states ‘The Future!’ Still skeptical? The final moments of ‘Swept Away’ feature Madonna’s heartfelt realization that she is not socially superior to her lowbrow companion. Only you and I know that, Todd. You are me and I am you, minus one leg.
As you might expect, your life has not gone according to ‘Todd’s Life Plan.’ Everyone who ever loved you, up to and including Jesus, has either died or redied in the past 30 years. Your Berkeley degree became worthless when the campus was implicated in the kidnapping of three-year-old twins in Encino, California. Your first marriage was a sham, a shamelessly promotional wedding to Safeway’s Low Low Prices for much-needed rent money. The kids hate you. The longest you ever held a job was three weeks, until the first Senior Citizen finally got word to the outside world.
In brief, Todd, we need to start over. So here’s some advice, from the future to the past, about how to do it right this time.
In 2004, on your 21st birthday, go to Vegas. Bet on the craps table, not the slots. The odds of beating the house are greatly improved. Don’t bet on sports, tho. Over the years, I’ve found it to be too risky to create any gains.
Buy an Inhaleo brand gas mask in August of 2007. Sell it in 2022, when that brand has become a classic, netting yourself a hefty gain.
Watch the skies carefully in 2011. But avoid looking directly at the sun, which can cause eye damage.
Transfer from Berkeley to CSU Northridge. After the death of the last of the Northridge family, the will bequeaths millions to undergraduates.
Don’t vote for Nader over Deenihan for President in 2032. Your vote will break the tie, and you shouldn’t waste it on Nader.
On January 1st of 2020, you will run into a former High School classmate working as a Bank Teller at B of A. Prepare yourself for the encounter, so your small talk doesn’t come off as startled and forced.
Marry for love until the tax changes in 2023.
The man who came down the chimney in 1990 was not Santa, but a convicted felon who only didn’t kill you because of your beautiful eyes. I suppose it’s too late to do anything about it, but FYI.
Good luck, Todd of the past. Presumably, having altered the future, I will now fade away like Future Biff Tannen in the Director’s Cut of Back to the Future II. If it means I’ll never again have to be called ‘The Man who Wants to Alter the Future,’ it’ll be worth it.
-2033 Todd
This TimeMail paid for by PepsiCo. Pepsi: drink it from 2003 to 2010, then after 2015
After winning an OscarGA$A3 for his riveting role in Bones, one man’s plight with ho pimpin’ and bitch slappin’:
Snoop: We goin’ smoke an ounce to that!
Ho: Oh Snoop, you’ve done it again. (round of laughter)
After winning the gold medal at the Nagano Winter Olympics:
Snoop: We goin’ smoke an ounce to that!
Japanese Ho: Oh Snoop, you’ve done it again.
After winning the ounce smoking contest:
Snoop: We goin’ smoke an ounce to that!
Playa Hater: But Snoop, you just smoked an ounce to that.
Dre: Fuck you bitch!
(gunshots)
Japanese Ho: Oh Snoop, you’ve done it again.
In a traffic jam:
Snoop: Damn, I hate traffic.
Driver: Um, there’s no traffic. We’re going 120 in an open lane. You’re just really stoned.
Snoop: Damn, I hate traffic.
At the grocery store:
Snoop: May I have some toothpaste please?
Clerk: Sure, there you go.
Snoop: Thanks.
At the spelling bee finals:
Snoop: C-O-M-P-T-O-N and the city they call Long Beach. Putting this shit together.
Mediator: I’m sorry Snoop, I asked you to spell “bitch nigga.” I’m afraid you lose.
Notorious BIG: N-O-T-O-R-I-O-U-S you just lay down slow.
P Diddy: Shut up Biggy, you’re dead.
MC Hammer: Can anyone spare some hammer change?
Snoop: Easy E can eat a big fat dick!
Mediator: And the winner is Snoop Doggy Dogg.
Playa Hater: That doesn’t make any sense.
Dre: Fuck you bitch.
(gunshots)
Results of an extensive study conducted by researchers at NYU have confirmed that listening to the Reverend Jesse Jackson makes you dumber. As part of the study, three groups of ten adults (age 18-45) were put in separate isolated rooms and asked to take an I.Q.-like reasoning test under different conditions. Group one took the test under normal conditions; group two did the same, but did not sleep the night before; group three, right before the test, was forced to listen to Jackson’s response to the San Francisco 49ers’ hiring of Dennis Erickson as head coach:
“…His hiring is indicative of the NFL’s history of recycling white coaches and affording them two and three chances to be head coaches, while black coaches continue to wait in the wings for opportunities to succeed or fail.”
An alarming disparity in test scores clearly showed that those subjected to such asinine claptrap were unable to perform at normal adult levels, falling just behind those tested that had not slept the night before. Amazingly, doctors observed some evidence of permanent damage to the nerve endings in the dorsolateral frontal lobes of those exposed to Jackson.
In a related story, many parents who have recently brought young children to attend Rainbow/PUSH speeches have reported symptoms of what doctors are referring to as “regressions in normal cognitive development.” The aforementioned children have actually lost pre-operational thought capability and have become un-pottytrained as a result of extended contact with the Reverend.
But don’t you tell anybody, okay?
