Jennifer Garner is pregnant with Ben Affleck's baby. Garner said
she has no
idea how it happened. "One minute Matt Damon is naked, and
farting in my
lap, the next thing you know I'm pregnant with Ben's baby!"
Affleck could not be reached for comment as he was enjoying a
massage from Tom Cruise and Elijah Wood.
Color Me Beautiful. Hang on, I'm Already Colored
We have 5 new shirt slogans this week and 8 new shirt colors are
available. We had to put on an additional shift at our state of
t-shirt manufacturing facility in Bangkok just to make enough.
no recess today. And right after work I want you to head straight
the brothel. It's a big day tomorrow, too.
So check out the new shirts about sex,
disease, and time on your knees. Not
to mention a bunch of guys with a serious case of blue balls 24/7.
All of our new shirts and colors are here:
If you're an AOL user, or unable to click
the link above, copy and paste it
into your browser.
"Hello and how may I provide you with excellent customer
service?" Do these
words strike fear in your heart, too? There's nothing worse than
get something done over the phone these day. And nothing sets
my tits on
fire faster than when some oily stammering goat herder in New
Delhi wants to
start off our conversation with something we both know is complete
If they just had the courtesy to begin by saying, "how may
I provide you
with barely acceptable customer service" at least we wouldn't
have to start
off on the wrong foot. If you need to handle something over the
better pop in a porno and pack a lunch because it will take all
But I'm getting ahead of myself. At this
point you're nowhere near talking
to a person, yet. One time I went so long without getting a person
phone I ended up talking to a bloody volleyball. Unless that was
Yes, I ended up talking to Tom Hanks. Bor-ing. Anyway, before
any help you have to navigate through 35 levels of voicemail.
They always start with the same question.
"For English, press 1: nachos
Espanol, sombrero numero dos." How the fuck did this happen?
Last time I
checked this was America. And in America, no one speaks English,
they're certainly not all jabbering in Spanish. And besides, how
people in America actually have a Spanish phone with a numero
dos on it?
Nice job setting up the voice mail by the
way. God forbid you should press
'1' to get customer service. '1' is always some department that
could possibly want to speak to like, 'Resource Market Development'.
do they get to be first? I blame the Spanish.
If you do manage to get the right department,
then you have to punch in
every number associated with your life. Your 48 digit account
social security number, your birthday, how many inches is your
cock, how many inches can your father take in the ass?
When you're finally through this maze;
you used to get a human being. But
now you get a robot. Like I'm supposed to believe this robot wants
me? That sweet sounding robot just wants to find out where I live
so it can
tear out my heart and stop me from fulfilling my destiny of leading
tag army of human resistance fighters.
Never talk to the robot. Never do what
the robot tells you to do. They
will eventually let you speak to one of the last humans tucked
away in the
back: the ones they're saving for their robot zoo.
Although the human is generally no more
help. Apparently, the robots have
lobotomized the humans so they can only read from a script. They're
waiting; slowly eating their steaming bowls of curry. They're
you to mention one or two key words so that they can give you
something completely unrelated to what you asked them.
This is him: "Hi this is Steve (or
some other phony American name). How
may I provide you with excellent customer service?"
This is me: "Hi Saptajit, thanks for
helping me out."
Him: "Out? If your cable is out, please
turn off your cable box."
Me: "Wait a second."
Him: "Second? If you'd like to add
a second cable box you need the Sales
department. Please hold while I connect you.
Me: Damn you Saptajit! Don't make me kill
When they put you on hold they do one of
two things. They play some
horrible easy listening music. This is a complete misnomer. This
anything but easy to listen to. They should call it "stab
yourself in the
ears with an icepick to make it stop" music. Or, they play
advertisement for the company (over the same crappy easy listening
telling you how happy they are to have some of your money and
why you should
give them the rest of it.
When they transfer you., they always give
you the phone number of the person
they're connecting you to, in case you're disconnected. It's 2005.
we still getting disconnected? There is no giant switchboard where
plugging and unplugging the lines into little holes? The telephone
invented in 1876. I think transferring calls should be ready by
I eventually manage to get back to the
Billing department. It's the same
guy. He now has no idea who I am. He needs to ask me all of my
again. And then the dreaded question: what is your password?
That's right: five years ago when you signed
up for this service, you
created a password. Now, I'm just trying to pay my bill. I know
to be careful in this age of identity theft and other nefarious
are there really a lot of people impersonating me trying to settle
unpaid balance? Just wait until the West Africans get their hands
sweet scam. They'll use their unclaimed millions to pay for everything!
I never know what I used for my password
and they won't give you a hint. So
now I'm giving Saptajit the passwords to every account I have.
Now he can
read my email, access my bank account, and rent movies online.
I find that
if I start insulting them at this point, instead of guessing passwords,
eventually give in.
Me: "Hmmm? Is it, 'you suck?' Is that
Me: "Shitbrain? You're brain dead?
Your head is full of sand and fleas?"
Him: "No, none of those."
Me: "You sister is the dirtiest slut
in Calcutta whose cunt is filled with
the broken off penises of all of the lepers who've fucked her?"
Him: "(Sigh) It might be your mother's
Me: "See? Was that so bad?"
Him: "Bad?" If your reception
is bad you need Technical Services. Please
wait while I transfer your call."
I was going to go to India and kill Saptajit
and his cow. I would tie him
to four different rickshaws and tear him to pieces. But there
problem with my ticket and I'm not going to call the airline.
Questions, Answers, and Abuse from the Editor
As most of you know, last week we removed our "Worse Than
Hell" section. A
lot of you wrote in, and I thought I would answer the most popular
"Aaron Schwarz? I thought you were
a black lady?"
Of course I am. Didn't you see 'Roots'?
My ancestors came over from
Africa, and they were all given slave names. Well, the Jewish
bought my great, great, great, great grandmother, named her Aaron
I'm actually Aaron Schwarz VI.
Put down your spoon and pay attention.
That's not soup. Aaron Schwarz is
the owner of the company. And while he is very good with money,
been known to wipe his ass with a yarmulke, he is not Jewish.
told, he actually prefers to be worshipped as a god. I just write
newsletter. Ironically, my slave name is Editor.
"Can I have all of your Worse Than
Hell shirts? Can I sell them now?"
Of course. We're happy to give them away.
Why don't you come and take my
house? I'll give you the keys to my cars, and my boat. Would you
anything else? You need to stick to what you're good at. I know
not a big market for scratching yourself and drooling, but don't
discourage you. I see a bright future for you in Freak Shows,
nails into boards with your forehead, traveling the country, and
on a bed of damp straw.
"If you stop having Worse Than Hell,
won't you stop getting hatemail? Who
will you insult?"
How about vapid little turds like you?
You are whiny, whimpering toads
whose tiny brains look enormous next to your teeny flaccid dicks.
off, I don't believe we will stop getting hate mail. We will still
people, it's simply unavoidable. And if we run out of people who
offended, there are always the people who offend me. They will
wrath and continue to receive some well deserved abuse on this
"U suck u sellout sucking sellout
No, we don't. We are going to continue
to make great shirts. You don't
need a special shirt to offend people. You have the waves of stink
emanate from every fiber of your being. Your odor makes the homeless
nauseous. They vomit when you walk by and then happily roll in
the vomit to
drown out your stench. Don't discount your awful personality.
have the most posts on your bulletin board. But for you, the number
posts is inversely proportional to the number of friends you possess
real world. And none of your online friends believe you're an
model / nuclear physicist, because you spelled it fizzisist. Trust
your lack of style, class, and your hideous personal appearance;
continue to have all of the bases covered.
On that note, since we have never hidden
from our critics in the past, we
have put together a page of all of the hate mail from our angry
We have excluded all e-mails that "only"
2. You're a bunch of pussies!
3. You fucking pussies!
...even though they accounted for about
98% of the e-mails we received:
The 45th new Star Wars movie is opening soon. Do you think Darth
is in it? Gee, I've never been to a movie that is guaranteed to
absolutely nothing new, and no possible surprises. Natalie Portman
center of a Wookie orgy is only in your dreams, fanboy. Can you
reading a book, skipping ten pages in the middle, and then going
to read them twenty years later? Did you hear about the fans camped
in front of the wrong theater? I like to think they did it on
That's it for this week.
May the force be with you, unless you're