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Recent Advertising Campaign Device, Writ Large
by Steven Smith
posted 07.18.06
Older Man: Greetings, I’m a developing nation.
Young Boy: And I’m the Western World. What you got there, Developing Nation?
Older Man: This? Oh, it’s my dinner: a handful of rice. Would you like some?
Young Boy: Thanks, but I couldn’t eat another bite. My roommate swore he could out-Gilmore
me so we decided to eat three dinners for the hell of it.
Older Man: Three dinners! Man alive, that sounds like a dream. It’s too bad for me that
my diet doesn’t provide the necessary energy to fuel dreams.
Young Boy: Sorry Developing Nation, I missed that last bit. I couldn’t hear you over all
the noise that this game of Guitar Hero© was making. Not to mention the moans from this wealthy socialite I’m banging.
She’s famous because she’s a bitch.
Older Man: I have no legs.
Young Boy: Too bad. I was gonna give you a turn on my invisible skateboard. It’s a skateboard
that’s invisible.
Older Man: (cough)
- - - - -
Older Man: Good afternoon, I’m dated.
Young Boy: And I’m cutting edge. Hey Dated, I couldn’t help but notice the pants and shirt you had on.
Older Man: Ok Cutting Edge, I’ll bite. What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?
Young Boy: (laughing) Nothing, I guess. It’s just so…2006.
Older Man: It is 2006!
Young Boy: But you’re dressed like the 2006 that was, not the 2006 that can be.
Older Man: Well I don’t give a damn what you say, you won’t catch me in one of those metal dresses.
Young Boy: For your information grandpa, this is a hammered tin cassock. It’s clergy-chic,
which is very “to be”.
Older Man: You look like an asshole.
Young Boy: Better to be an asshole in a world full of assholes than one lonely dick.
- - - - -
Older Man: Hey folks, I’m a desktop computer.
Young Boy: And I’m a neural-net processing genital hub.
Older Man: I can help you send e-mails of the grandchildren to your friends.
Young Boy: So can I, only faster.
Older Man: I can help you with your taxes.
Young Boy: So can I, only with greater efficiency.
Older Man: I don’t require any input and output wires implanted in your junk.
Young Boy: ...
Older Man: Now who wants MySpace?