Are you tired of listening to people telling you how to live your life?
How many times have you been told what fork to use, or what slacks to wear? How many times do you have to be told drinking mercury is bad for you before you stop doing it? Don’t fret, gorgeous reader, I can help.
Hi, my name is Johnny Gazpacho, and I am well-schooled in the blunt art of personal reformation. Sure, there are plenty of people who will tell you how to talk to a friend about his lousy personal hygiene, or what slacks to wear on Thursdays. But has anyone ever told you how to handle someone who doesn’t believe we went to the moon? What about hippies? Who helps you with them?
I do, that’s who.
My advice is simple and unadulterated. I don’t listen to anyone, I rarely do what I am told, and if you say the sky is blue, I will tell you your face is gross. Ask my bosses here at Folio Weekly; I am a nightmare to handle. Not in the sort of way that Charles Barkley was, where his talent made up for his attitude. My talent doesn’t make up for anything. But, still, I want to help. I want to inform. I want to show you folks what is really important. Read the stuff that follows — it’ll help you be more like me. People will tell you that’s a bad idea. Don’t listen to them.
Don’t ever drink Goldschläger. You may very well end up throwing lounge chairs off the deck of a cruise ship.
Sarcasm is way overused. Trust me, I made it that way. Reserve sarcasm for only the best situations. People are going to say stupid things to you all day long. Let most of them go. You’ll know when the moment calls for real sarcasm.
Throw your cell phone away. We are all going to die because of them.
Don’t let old people get away with being racist or sexist. Don’t baby them about it, either. Get right in their face and loudly tell them to go to bed.
Rorschach did the inkblots. Horshack said “Meeester Kottah.” Don’t get these two confused in a dinner party conversation.
Unless you’re a farmer with acres of land, and there’s a silo on your property, don’t compost anything or grow weird beets in your backyard.
Zumba is some weird aerobics thing. Rhumba is a robot vacuum. Don’t get these two confused in a dinner party conversation.
Don’t listen to anyone on TV. If you want to wear sweat pants or track suits, go right ahead.
Moisturizing is key.
Don’t stare at women. Ever. If you get caught for even one second, you’re a creep to them forever. Fleeting glances, yes; skull-humping stares, no.
For every game of Scrabble you play on your phone, play two real ones on a tangible board, with tangible letters and tangible people.
You don’t have to wash your hair every time you shower. Maybe every other time. Unless you have long hair. Then, maybe, wash it.
If you watch housewives do anything other than pool boys or pizza-delivery men, you need to apologize to your family.
If your finances allow, put a urinal in your home bathroom.
Hug your friends a lot. They may think you’re a weirdo, but one day they’ll appreciate it.
When you toast someone, say “Cheers” and look straight into their eyes for three seconds. I learned this from a Nigerian guy.
Don’t forget we whooped some British ass way back when. Remind people of that at dinner parties.
When referring to Jimmy Buffett around people who like him, call him Jim Buffett.
Eat a shit-ton of ice cream.
Learn how to string a guitar. Come over to my house and string my guitars.
Get sensual massages more than you give sensual massages.
Just know that the Queen of England has a trampoline. I swear to God. I have seen it.
Don’t go to dinner parties.
Don’t let little kids win at anything. Whup their asses.
If you are going to say, “Tippecanoe and Tyler, too,” make sure you know who the Tippecanoe part refers to.
Organic? Ehhh, I don’t know.
Don’t say the word “regime,” unless you’re referring to some despot. That is it. Not in sports, not in business, not in local politics.
Be able to get at least through the first five and last five presidents we have had, in order.
Stop touching that thing.
Learn how to take criticism. If you can’t commit to that, learn how to fly off the handle well. Really make a scene of it. Pretend you’re a basketball coach getting kicked out of a game. Throw a chair.
Forget about the courthouse. It’s built; get over it.
I say fuck it, wear a fanny pack.
The world is clearly getting warmer. That being said, spray cans of Aqua Net out your window as your drive to the mailbox in your Hummer.
People like to hear that they have pretty eyes. All eyes are pretty to me, so I don’t have to lie when I say it.
Vichyssoise is a cold soup. Laissez-faire is an economic principle focused on freedom from government intervention. Don’t get these two confused at a dinner party.
You used to be able to smoke inside. Thanks, Obama.
Badger hair is the best hair for shaving brushes, but probably the worst for condoms.
Always give people space. Don’t crowd people. Don’t touch them, either.
There’s an ethical riddle present in those who consume vegetarian hamburgers or hot dogs. I can’t articulate it, but I know there’s something wrong with them.
If it’s turkey-based, it ain’t for me, sailor.
What happened to all the Putt Putts?
At some point in our history, didn’t they sell generic cereals and other food stuffs in plain white boxes that just said “cereal”? I feel like they did. We need to go back to this.
Try to not talk about French kissing when in a large group of strangers.
It’s really OK to buy a woman a vacuum cleaner. What if you bought her one of those expensive Dyson ones? You telling me that’s rude? A note to all of you: You can buy me an expensive vacuum cleaner if you want.
Deadlines don’t really matter. Punctuality is overrated. What time is it?
I used to like “Loose lips sink ships,” but I think that may be out there already. So can we bring back “Close only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades”?
Saying “These colors don’t run” is only fun and/or acceptable when you use it out of context.
America is not, in fact, the greatest country in the world. That would be French Polynesia.
Watch how many eggs you eat.
If you don’t think man walked on the moon, get out of my face.
If our plane crashed in the Andes, would you eat me? I would totally eat you.
Don’t let print die. Buy seven papers a day..
Johnny Gazpacho is a pen name of Folio Weekly contributor Danny Kelly. He accepts hate mail at [email protected]