Jim McPartland

www.funnyordie.com/jbmcpart

The night I was writing the first draft of my piece titled "I May See Dead People," it dawned on me that I was lonely.  Not alone, but lonely.
 
Maybe that is why Lawrence, my ghost (aptly named by Dave McBrayer), was lurking around the hallway.  He felt that I needed company. Unfortunately for Lawrence, I'm not gay. Even if I was, I couldn't exchange fluids with him in the truest sense of the word. Ectoplasm only goes so far.

I was sitting there thinking, "I need a date."
 
Where in God’s name am I going to meet a girl at this hour?  I guess I could have just walked in a local Starbucks or a grocery store in hopes that lady luck would be around.  But with all the virtual dating that goes on, I thought Craig’s List MIGHT bring me the quickest result.
 
I’d joined Match.com before with very limited success.  The only girl that I agreed to meet stood me up under the "I'm sick" guise.
 
I am sick too; sick of getting my hopes up that my 'special someone' is just behind the door, waiting for me in her bathrobe.  I am getting tired of the promises of these on-line dating services that “the one” would be wearing Victoria Secret edible underwear and would prefer a ménage à trios.

I should have learned my lesson about C’s List via my Pauline Marshall experience. Refresh your memories---

http://www.funnyordie.com/blog/posts/29329

I decide against my better judgment and posted something anyway. 

Stupid horny fuck that I am.

My ad goes like this:

"I'm Making Dinner Tonight” ~

Aspiring writer, into Curb Your Enthusiasm, is looking to make you dinner tonight. I'm 50, look 40, and prefer to meet females 30-35 that are, single and relatively good looking. Check out my blog at FOD to see if we match.

PLEASE- no spammers or hookers."

I posted it at 6 in the morning on Saturday 10/3.

To my surprise, I got 4 responses within minutes.

They are all personalized, not some kind of re-tread "Hey Baby, let's do it!” They all included normal pictures; one girl was with her Mom, another was with a group quasi drunk chicks at a baby shower.  Fantasies of Mrs. Robinson ensue.

They all say they're in the area, are free that night, and they ‘checked out my blogs and thought I was funny’. There is no better way to get into my heart than that.

I did think was unusual that so many women would be up that early, but maybe they're just morning people like me and are using their Blackberries. I give them the benefit of the doubt.

The first one that intrigued me was Linda; a cute 34 yr. old who tells me she's in banking.  She thinks that I'm funny and refers to something specific she’d read. She then goes on to say that in order to protect herself from nuts like the guy that killed an escort in Boston via a Craig’s hook up, she wants me to use E Verify and provided me a link.

I’m now a fish hooked on a line that’s being reeled in slowly. And, like a fish, I have no idea what awaits me on the deck of the boat ‘Impending Doom’.

According to E Verify, they conduct a simple background check to insure one is not a convicted felon, registered sex offender, and credit score eclipses the median IQ of Louisiana (14). I think I can pass!

I click on the link. Looks legit with official logos and the like. Typical disclaimers. Says the service is for 1 year at $39.95, which I will not be billed for and can cancel within 3 days. Wants a credit card # to start.

Hmmm- I hesitate. Do I really want to give them my number? Do I really know enough about the offer? How can—

My randy finger says “Fuck, yeah!” and clicks.

Oh, God!

It brings me right to some adult porno site. I’m now a member and can scan ‘1000’s of Ukrainian women’ doing God knows what to God knows who and then some.

I’m back to the fish flopping on the boat deck, gasping for O2.

I simply don’t do internet porn. Even if I did for $40 a month, that’s two blowjobs at the corner (not that I do that either, I just know the going rate). Reality over fantasy any day.

And they have my credit card. What’s next? A non returnable ghastly Russian mail order bride? Automatic enrollment into the NRA?

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

I go to my online bank account. Sure enough, the $39.95 is already there. So much for 3 days. Does this have anything to do with the International Date Line?

I scramble. I better run down to the bank and close this account before I get the ghost of Charlton Heston banging at my door, 1free 16 gauge shot gun in hand.

But first, more e-mail invites—all saying E Verify is the portal to true love.

I start to fight back-

“Dear Bonnie- I don’t blame you for not trusting guys like me. Before the advent of EV, I was pretty popular. Most of the fine looking women I met can attest to that. The fact they’re all buried in my crawlspace is simply an ending to a nice time.”

“Katie- I appreciate the fact you want to have dinner tonight. With the full moon on the horizon, EV will tell you my werewolf tendencies are only a once a month issue- much like your female cycle. Maybe next week?? Черняховск[1] is only a short flight anyway.”

I’m waiting by the doors of my bank at 9 AM, trying to get my story straight. I figure no matter what I tell them, anything having to do with internet porn will raise a banker’s eyebrow.

I get to customer service and Renee, an early 20-something, flashes me the big bank ‘How can I get you to invest?’ smile. Maybe this is the karma I was searching for. A tad young, but--- oh, forget it.

I try to explain my dilemma without sounding like a predator. More easily said than done. “Ok, Mr. McPartland, here’s some paperwork to fill out”. That’s basically ‘Tell us why you’re an asshole. Why, as a fish, you’re taking your last few flops on the Doom’s deck. Why does E Verify--‘

Why, why, why?

The question races through my head.

I need good quality quick answers. ‘I can’t differentiate between internet phishing and ‘got ‘em on the hook’ real angling’ comes to mind.

It took me three bank visits, faxes and a notarized oath to get the charge refunded. I had to cancel the card and get another so my comrades did not have a field day buying me stuff that I’d never see.

So I’m staying off Craig’s List.

And hoping some nice fisherman throws me back in the drink to spawn another day.

I’m finishing this at Starbucks.

You never know who has edible undies on, to go with my Christmas blend.

Editor's note- Some of this is fictinalized.
 
The Author does not want your sympathy or a date with your divorced friends who's 'kinda cute in an Oprah kinda way'.

Jim McPartland

www.funnyordie.com/jbmcpart

Happy Pre Turkey to all of you!

Between Census taking, computer issues of biblical proportions, and the inability to finish what I’ve started (around 5 stories in various stages of disarray and the #1 complaint of every female I’ve ever been with), I need to put something here to prove I’m breathing. Duncan Sheik ‘Barely’, but breathing none the less.

I had the pleasure of hockey refereeing Adult Sled Hockey yesterday. These are disabled adults, most in wheelchairs off the ice, who sit on souped up metal sleds swerving around using their butts to guide and two short sticks like ski poles to push themselves. It takes a great amount of upper body strength and I couldn’t help but think of the human propensity to overcome real obstacles when one decides to take the shitty 8/2 ‘Texas Hold ‘Em’ cards God dealt them and turn it into a winning hand by bluffing.

There was one guy nicknamed “The Keg” who had NO legs yet managed to bob and weave around like a Weeble, encouraging team mates and laughing all the while. Scored a couple goals, too.

Remember this the next time you’re stuck in traffic.

A few news items I plucked from the paper last week-

From Ozark, Ark (it’s always the South) - a Policeman was suspended for tasering a 10 year old girl for not taking a shower. Her mother encouraged him to do so.

In an unrelated story, due to recent Republican victories in the once liberal Massachusetts, burning at the stake has been reinstituted as a form of punishment for staying out past curfew and nude textpixing.

D.A. Ed Jagels is retiring in California. Jagels lead the charge in the 80’s that resulted in two dozen child molesters being sent to prison for decade long stretches.

Judges now say the crimes never happened. The child witnesses, now adults, admit they were coached. Brandon Smith’s false testimony sent his own parents off to a cell block city for 12 years.

Since the 80’s, all but one of Jagels convictions has been reversed.

Yet he kept winning reelection.

So, I guess stupidity is not limited to just the south. The West has its moments of brain farts, too.

And so much for our fair court system that I always hope works.

Sacco and Vanzetti, anyone?

Corporate insurance giant Aetna is laying off another 1000 people by the end of the year, 400 here in CT. This, after axing 4000 in the past year.

Republicans will claim this is a precursor to what will happen if the public option becomes reality. The poor insurance companies won’t compete with big bad government and, whooossshhh, more unemployed.

They, of course, will fail to point out Aetna’s CEO made $24,000,000 in salary and bonuses last year and is slated to do more this year.

He was planning to buy all those families turkeys this year, but changed his mind when he realized they all had ‘Tiny Tims’ with pre existing conditions.

Finally, the Catholic Diocese of Bridgeport is in negotiations with the courts to divulge portions of the 12,098 pages of testimony regarding priest abuse in the 70’s. The local Bishop has steadfastly claimed they were taking care of their own housekeeping and telling tales of the past involving mostly dead pastors would serve no purpose.

I could go into a diatribe that abstinence is an unrealistic expectation for any man and only leads to repressed homosexuals becoming laymen, but I won’t.

That’s because I read the last pages of what the two sides have agreed to disclose so far.

Page 12,098- “THIS PAGE LEFT INTENTIONALLY BLANK”.

Page 12,097- “XXXXXXXXXXXXX$$$$$$%%%% with his ^^^^^^^&&&, soon ######!!! his ^^^^^^^^^^.

Father Gallegan then washed his hands thoroughly and proceeded to hear the confession of 9 year old Timothy Shannon”.[1]

Jim McPartland

www.funnyordie.com/jbmcpart

I believe God answers prayers.

Not at the speed of high speed internet- and certainly not in the time frame that I hope for (I.E., pushing me to the brink of bridge jumping/running with {or without} scissors on I-95 in rush hour traffic), but He does.

Eventually.

Sometimes I think that’s why He created Therapists and Lexipro (your job here is to figure out which I use and which now I can’t afford {hint- neither[2]}).

On 9/9, I got a job with the US Census in a management role starting in October. I’d been working on it since May.

To get a job, I had to play every card right. And pray.

“God, look- I know I ask for a bunch of stuff, both for me and everyone else. And I know You’re busy trying to figure out how Your divine plan has gone off on such an aschewed tangent. But, seriously, Ya gotta cut me some slack on this one. You haven’t done a whole lot of mountain moving with my petty requests lately. Actually in such a long time I’m wondering if You have a “Gone fishin’” sign on your chair. Can Ya help a brother out?”

Saying financially I’ve been ‘under the gun’ makes me want to even more strongly oppose the right to bear arms.

And lead to-

The dream.

I was somewhere in the woods, unfamiliar at best. I was by some trees when I looked up and saw someone hanging. It was dark and I couldn’t quite make out what was going on. I remember gazing up, albeit briefly, for fear of seeing a purple face and thinking “This is not good- I need to get some help”.

I started to run to alert police when, BAM, I heard the noose break and the guy fall from above me.

He landed on me.

With a thud.

I woke up, like I’d been hit with a bat. I was out of breath.

That was at 12:30 A.M. on 9/22.

I couldn’t go back to sleep and decided to FOD instead.

It wasn’t until the next day, 9/23, while at the gym at 7 A.M. I saw the first report via scrawl on ABC-

“Census Worker Found Hung in Kentucky”

I hadn’t had the TV on the prior night. There was no way in holy-fucking-hell subconsciously I could have known this.

I’m not clairvoyant. Stooges like John Edwards make me laugh with their ‘guessing games’.

JE- “Do you know someone whose name starts with ‘L’? Maybe ‘Lou’?”

Studio Woman Plant- “No”

JE- “Wait, how about--Lou--Loser?”

Studio Woman looks like God struck lightening.

The skinny on reality-

Census worker Bill Sparkman’s body had been found 9/12 in a cemetery.

It was reported to the public early 9/23.

Why it took 11 days for authorities to report it is beyond me.

Wait- it’s Clay County, Ky.

Big Creek, to be exact.

Here’s a map -

http://www.panoramio.com/map/#lt=37.162312&ln=-83.568802&z=4&k=2&a=1&tab=1

To find the one school, just follow the path at the end of Big Creek Rd. Hang a left by the outhouse. Continue until you see the Confederate flag and bones of the uppity n*ggers hung in ’62.”

It’s by the Daniel Boone Forest, quite the place to get lost should you choose to.

Some demographics (provided by the US Census[3])

There are 1500 residents, 1493 White, 7 Hispanics. No blacks.

60% did not get a H.S. diploma (39% are 8^th grade and below).

The median income is $18,500.

I could you on, but you get the picture.

Real life Deliverance. Straight family trees. In bred IQ’s of 14.

But whizzes at tying knots.

Poor Bill was found with duct tape on his mouth, wrists and ankles. He was naked except for socks. The words ‘FEDS’ scrawled on his chest.

The US Census actually has a term”Dangerous Settlement” for Militia groups. Big Love without the love and Clloe Sevigny. But lots of missing teeth.

Enumerators are not to go there, so my guess is they tracked Bill down or saw him walking with his census ID in full view.

In an effort to be fair, I called Chief Jeff Calhoun of the Manchester County Police Department, which also covers Clay County. It’s around 40 miles from Big Creek. It was like calling Mayberry RFD. How Barney Fife can handle things from that distance is questionable. Actually, it makes total sense- they just don’t. Needless to say, Andy Taylor didn’t call me back. I don’t think their wind up phones work well with wireless.

When I heard Jeff’s heavy southern drawl, I started to think not only does he must know the responsible hillbillies- his brother is probably one of them. So instead of trying to track them down, he waits for 10 days to tell the FBI, giving them a nice head start deeper into the woods. They know that finding them there is akin to Bin Laden in his hills.

I don’t think I’m going to have this problem. We don’t have that many forests in CT and, although I have occasionally seen some KKK lit, I don’t think we have any ‘dangerous settlements’. And I know, generally speaking, we don’t fuck relatives and procreate demented children.

Still, I’m staying away from rope for a while. And probably anyone in a F150 with a ‘Live Free or Die” sticker until we finish counting.

Editor's note- It is being reported today 'authorities' believe he hung himself-

Here's the story--
http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20091124/ap_on_re_us/us_census_worker_hanged

If  you're telling me the local Hillbilly authorities can do the work of the FBI, I ain't buying it. I still think it's their relatives or close 'radical' friends.

Whre's Dr, Henry Lee when you need him?  Or is he too busy dispelling OJ's "If I Did It" memiors?

Jim McPartland

www.funnyordie.com/jbmcpart

I moved to Newtown, CT and am very happy for a change.

My landlord/roommate is Tom.

Cool like a summer breeze.

Feels great.

10 acres of trees and visions of starting my own farm growing pot that I would strictly sell.

At 23 5% TLC, watch out Chronic[2]!

I digress-

 Tom and I were talking Thursday, still in the ‘We’ve made a quasi commitment but will you be there “When I’m Sixty Four?” ‘stage.

I had slept here Wednesday night. Quite restful and I felt good, going to the gym early.

But I had this feeling- a nice one mind you- very different. There was this soothing energy in the room. Like one of those vibrating beds you shoot quarters into in dive motels, not quite as strong.

I have had good karma about this house from the minute I walked in. I knew it was old, but not quite sure just how much. Tom said his bedroom that’s on the first floor was the entire structure built in 1727. That didn’t seem possible but after a google search, it is. How fucking cool is that? 282 years. That means there has to be a ton of history. I may get around to researching the people who’ve both lived and died here. It wouldn’t surprise me some are buried on the property. I may go out in the woods and look but knowing my luck I’ll stumble on a Pet Semetary and have fucking dead cats at the door clawing to gain entry.

Tom told me he’s seen a ‘Yogi’ Bear (about 175 lbs.) twice over the last 18 months. I was like ‘cool, but can you tell him my dog Buck is not a ‘picanick basket’?

Then he dropped the bombshell.

“We have a ghost”.

He said it so nonchalantly, I started to laugh.

“We do. Ask my girlfriend. We hear him walking upstairs sometimes. He’s nice though and whenever he bothers us, I yell up there to stop. And he does.”

Me- “Who is it?”

Tom- “I think it was some old rummy that died in Gary’s room in the 1920’s”

Thursday night- same soothing feeling. But no footsteps.

As I was sitting here Friday night at 8 PM alone trading barbs with Amy4Birds who posted another great blog---

I heard him.

“Hey”

It was a man’s voice very nice and friendly. Sounded young- in his 20’s.

It was clear as a bell. It came from behind me. But rather than being scared and jumping out the window, I just kept typing and said “What’s up?” like a buddy had just walked in the room.

While writing this at 4:45 a.m. Saturday morning, he knocked on my bed stand.

I thought it was my dog, but he’s nowhere near it.

That did make me jump a little, sending brief shivers down my spine.

 I said “Dude, I’m writing- don’t bother me right now. If anything, go get me more coffee please.”

I guess he’s lazy because I still had to get it myself.

Tom does not know his name. Gary, my other roommate, said he hasn’t seen him.

So, I think I need to call him something so we can know each other better.

Your mission, if you choose to accept it, is to give my friend a name and tell me who is and why he’s lurking around.

Jim McPartland

www.funnyordie.com/jbmcpart

With every great idea or product, there is always Satan lurking behind the scenes trying to figure how to take God’s creative gift to man and turn it into another apple.

The internet is probably the best idea since Edison was tinkering in his cellar with some wires; got a 120 watt shock and said “Fuck- that hurts!”- then noticed the spectacles he was wearing were starting to glow.

But the internet begat spam, child porn on demand, and an ability for Bill O’Reily to spew his drivel to the militia bible belters in Kentucky who hung a census worker last week.[1]

When I read a story called “Hand Sanitizer ingredients stir controversy”, I knew ol’ Hell Boy was trying to screw with God’s plan again.

Here we are at the beginning of the H1N1 flu epidemic, where every health official is screaming “Wash your hands as much as an obsessive/compulsive! And for the love of God, kids, use the sanitizer that’s within every two feet of anywhere you walk in school!”

I use hand sanitizer all the time. It’s by the desk, in the kitchen; I even have a small bottle in the car. It gets rid of the Subway onions very well. It’s like a cold towel when I splash it on my face in the morning because I’m too lazy to go upstairs and use a washcloth. Like Listerine, it’s got a strong antiseptic smell and takes on germs as well as we did the Germans at Normandy.

But it’s 50% alcohol- 100 Proof for you liquor newbies.

Some officials are concerned it can be used as an intoxicant.

Despite enjoying a Glenlivet that I can ill afford now myself, I’ve never sat here, said “I need a drink” and thought about pouring it in my mouth- never mind swallowing it. It just doesn’t smell that good—like how gas does. Not that I’ve ever took a gulp of that either, mind you. I just remember toying with the thought as a 7 year old. I learned soon that’s a bad idea because little Johnny from South Street- the kid who you could get to swallow paper clips and dog shit for two cents and a piece of Bazooka- landed in the ER when someone dared him to swig some 93 octane.[2]

Kindergartners are calling it “Magic Soap:”

They apparently already know that ‘magic’ can make you laugh and raise your attraction level to your 27 year old teacher, Ms Stewart, to “I Wuv You” levels, even if you’re not sure what you really ‘want’ from her.

I know what’s going to happen.

The FDA will ban push top self dispensers when reports of 7^th graders, sticking their mouths underneath them like they’re using the water fountain, are found running naked outside during recess- claiming to simply be practicing for their new school production of Hair.

But before that happens, the Marketing Department at P&G will suggest that R&D start developing flavors- or at least add Red Dye #5 and cherry scent to make it smell more ‘fresh ‘n fruity’. That will leave the folks at Smirnoff wondering why their Ice line sales are tanking.

PG VP- “Guys, if Phillip Morris can make Apple Camels, we can certainly do better. We gotta get these 10 year olds hooked before voting age so they can be lifer customers and repeal any laws the goddamn liberal health nuts sign saying our sanitizer cannot be sold without ID.

And, besides, that raspberry sorbet sample does taste pretty good! Can we get a tie in with Jello shots? Throw in some Red Bull? Let’s get moving!”

But then—on I-95 in Fairfield at 2 a.m. on a Saturday, a 16 year old female from Weston is pulled over by Ct State Troopers for going 97 and flashing truckers-

Cop- “Miss, have you been drinking?”

Girl (slurring) “Officecerrr, I only had a ½ ounce of this Menthol anti bacterial lotion” (Pours some, spilling most, rubs on hands, begins to lick fingers ravenously. Cop mildly aroused).

“Smell my breath—isn’t it great?”

Cop- “Miss, step out of the car”

Girl- “If I kiss you, will that help me out of this? I’ll even use tongue---“

We may even learn that sanitizer works well as a ‘stay hard’ substitute. P&G will partner with Viagra. Oral sex in middle schools will be reported on an alarming uptick. Parental advisors and pamphlets will follow with “Watch for these signs--“

Damn ye Satan to hell!