Confessions of an unstable Editor-In-Chief
I would like to become a runner for the Washington Post. I am ready to take the word from Washington about Post to everywhere in the world. I will make post available even in China. China will be full of post offices like it is in Washington. And I will send you a letter from there...
Yes, I'm back from the grave, big as an elephant, twice as bold. It just happened that the owners of the magazine made me work again. I don't know why, I have been here for a long time, but I haven't really have had to do anything much. But I have still got paid. So why do I need to work now? It's a total mystery for me what the fuck happened?
Me, the beach boy!
I was just laying in the beach when one of the top guys, the guy with a black beard, the cruel one, called me to say that I'm in danger. If I won't write something really farked up again, I would have to lay in the beach all the years that I have left
Me, somewhere in the beach? I thought for a bit, and a bit more, and then a bit more, considering my age, bad habits in life and the tendency not to remember anything I did the day before, then I kind of liked the idea. However, as he also promised not to pay me top dollars anymore, I decided it might be a good idea if I actually wrote some shit again.
So right now I'm laying in a beach somewhere in Tuscany, trying to find the purpose of life, drinking my James Bond drink and somewhere in between also trying to write this idiocy. But well, as long as they publish it, why not. The Cheers is an internationally well-known magazine, after all. So as you can see I WILL BE FAMOUS! Even YOU are reading it. Though I can't really understand WHY? Oh WHY? But I must be good if I really made you read this ball-less piece. But just to get some feedback from you please tell me WHY oh WHY are you reading this nonsense? Leave a note to the comments area. I appreciate it. Thank you.
His first sexual experience with a monkey...
Oh yeah, I forgot something. My big-boss-always-watching forced me to write about my first sexual experience. Well, I have none. So I have decided to talk about my big-boss-not-usually-editing experience instead. The way I remember it, it was a great big monkey with dark brown coat and everything. Her eyes were glowing like someone had pushed his finger up to his ass. Well, as it turned out, someone had. It was my big-boss-not-always-sober who found that interesting. He had never seen a monkey in his life before. And now he found so many familiarities between himself and the monkey-girl that he just had to fall in love with her.
Well, at least at that point he really thought he did. But you wouldn't have liked to see him the morning after he had banged the little hairy gal. Or actually, yeah, you would have liked to see him. He had such a tiny puppy face in front of his head, begging me not to tell anyone about it. He was even ready to pay me, pay me a lot, he was ready to pay for my upcoming trip around the world, all costs covered of course. Well, of course I promised I would not tell anyone. Anyhow, why should I? Everyone already knew it, there was even a front page story about it at The Sun.
Together with pictures and everything. The thing was that the big-boss-stupid-as-hell didn't really remember that the monkey was in the zoo and he paid the zoo-keeper to get inside the monkey's cage. And would you really expect that this kind of event stays unnoticed by the thousands of visitors of the zoo. Hell, the zoo staff was even shouting through the loud-speakers that some drunk guy is banging the monkey. They even promoted the event on the streets. And I must say that according to my calculations the zoo made 10 times more money that day than it had made with the previous month all together.
Well,this big-boss-currently-still-in-dark will be out of the country for a bit after this article is published. I would think Alaska is a good place for him. God bless the magazine with owners who don't usually review the contents! CHEERS!