Click here for a complete listing of entries.
September 1, 2000
I'm pretty eager to find a new job--in case most of you didn't know. So, if anyone reading this has need for a circus freak with nasal passages large enough to park a Greyhound bus in, please let me know. E-Mail.
September 2, 2000
Here in Indiana, September brings the cool air of autumn and the smell of stalk-ripened corn. This pretty much describes the smell of my pants. I'm not even sure what that means. Thank you very much. I'll be here all week. Don't forget to tip your waitresses. E-Mail.
September 3, 2000
I haven't given much thought to...well...most things really. It keeps me going. E-Mail.
September 4, 2000
As a boy, I pondered the idea of joining the military in search of far-off adventure and to serve my country. Instead, I joined a comic book club and hope that some day I'll travel to the National Convention if it's ever held in my parents' basement. E-Mail.
September 5, 2000
I've spent a LOT of time watching television in my life. The thing that amazes me the most is that I feel smarter because of it--regardless of what people say. In fact, I think that I can say with great certainty that those Duke boys on The Dukes of Hazard were probably just actors. I had to watch the entire season several times to determine this. I'm just thankful to TNN for airing it in between my favorite fishing shows. E-Mail.
September 6, 2000
Thanks to stress resulting from the random, slipshod management at my company, I have decided to quit and pursue my true calling: armpit virtuoso with the French-Polynesian Luau Orchestra. For those interested we will be performing every sixth friday, immediately following Hal "Crispy" Johnson the amateur fire baton juggler. (NOTE: This is the first-ever entry written from an actual blood-relative of TDJ. Proof once again that cousins SHOULD marry.) E-Mail.
September 7, 2000
This fall, the hillbilly look is in. So put on them overalls, tie yer hair in pig tails, and black out a tooth or two... all for the sake of fashion.E-Mail.
September 8, 2000
I just bought a new car with the gravy option. Yep, hot gravy on tap all the time!E-Mail.
September 9, 2000
I just had one of my worst days at work ever. It was even worse than the time my Aunt Myrtle told the pretty girl in the mailroom about the lemur cyst on my upper thigh, but not quite as bad as the time I got my foot caught in the staff room toaster. E-Mail.
September 10, 2000
I don't enjoy it when I have to work on Sunday. I mean, you can't buy alcohol on Sunday, why should you have to work on Sunday? Sunday is a day for church, a day for rest, a day for family. And in today's case, a day for sky-diving off the roof of my company with two angry ferrets strapped to my ankles. E-Mail.
September 11, 2000
I've been trying to get a better handle on FrontPage 2000 lately for some web design in my job. While many readers out there may think that The Daily Journal pays enough to put the melba toast on the table, they are wrong. You've got bills to pay, expert web designers to pay, sponsors and advertisers to keep happy, and of course, we're trying to save up to produce Police Academy 8: Terror in Gnaw Bone, Indiana. E-Mail.
September 12, 2000
My lack of a uterus is really hurting my chances at becoming the next Miss America. E-Mail.
September 13, 2000
Here in Indiana we have been having a crime wave, which of course means that the politicians will pass more laws. Yeah, like we NEED more legislation relating to Tommy gun toting penguins. E-Mail.
September 14, 2000
Would The Lord of the Rings be as popular if the wizard had been named Steve? E-Mail.
September 15, 2000
My love of cheese is so great that it is outlawed in 14 states. E-Mail.
September 16, 2000
Most of my days are spent looking for yaks and the people who love them. Being a yak matchmaker has been a tough career choice on my family, but if you could see the looks on their faces (i.e. the yaks) you would see that it's worth every food stamp I've ever had to cash in. E-Mail.
September 17, 2000
I'm constantly telling my kids to put their toys away and as soon as I tell them they cry as if I were sending them to a concentration camp. Ok, so I thought that actually sending the oldest one to a concentration camp would have an impact on the other two--my mistake. E-Mail.
September 18, 2000
I've never gotten tired of playing make believe. For instance, I like to "make believe" that the people at work really like me and that they constantly pee on my tires because it's some sort of a cool cultural thing. E-Mail.
September 19, 2000
September 20, 2000
I'm sorry to disappoint you all, but September 20 was all a cruel hoax by a group of swarthy eskimo roadies. It never really happened. E-Mail.
September 21, 2000
I'm the proud owner of yet another e-mail address. If you ever need to reach me with any problems concerning my entries, I'll be at email@example.com. The Boy's E-Mail.
September 22, 2000
September 23, 2000
This morning, as I bit into a nice, ripe, juicy orange, full of vitamins and tasty goodness, I realized that nothing really compares to the taste of a young child's flesh. Although that was definitely a good orange. E-Mail.
September 24, 2000
I spent the entire afternoon and evening today being lazy on the couch, watching football. The weather was lousy, so I didn't feel like going outside anyway. Helping matters was an eight foot tall mutated prairie dog outside my front door. But I have to admit I had a good laugh when it ate my cat. E-Mail.
September 25, 2000 I've been thinking lately that if our penguin friends could actually fly, I bet their wings would be much tastier as a deep-fried treat. E-Mail.
If the other Daily Journal writers had the same problems that I have, then no one has been able to get into Tripod for the past week or so. Which means it's time to start playing catch-up with the entries! Ready, set, go!
I've been thinking lately that if our penguin friends could actually fly, I bet their wings would be much tastier as a deep-fried treat. E-Mail.
September 26, 2000
I can't believe the year has flown by so quickly! Soon, it will be 2001 and we'll all be flying around in spaceships, talking to computers named HAL and having overly long, trippy, funkadelic journeys in to the outer reaches of space. And I bet they'll come up with a new granola bar flavor. I can only hope. E-Mail.
September 27, 2000
Have you ever noticed that when we are in a hurry to write numerous entries at once, occasionally they lack the overall quality and humor of our more carefully thought-out entries? Of course, once in awhile they turn out to be completely hilarious and deeply meaningful, like this one. E-Mail.
September 28, 2000
Did you ever wonder if there is really life out there? On other planets, I mean. Like Jupiter, for instance. Could little strange alien beings live there? Or perhaps huge, ugly, cantakerous creatures capable of coming to earth and destroying our species? I wonder that sometimes. On the other hand, occasionally I wonder why my Mom and Dad still don't like to let me wear pants on Thursdays. E-Mail.
September 29, 2000
When you are really hungry, all you can think about is food. Food food food. So it is becoming increasingly sausage to write this cheese. In fact, I'm having problems soup with my minestrone, although beef tips can sometimes turkey my sauerkraut. Granola! E-Mail.
September 30, 2000
Ever wonder why upper management hates you? Yes, it's true, they do. I'm not sure why, but hey, better you than me. E-Mail.
September 31, 2000 I'm feeling pretty bad today about letting the gerbil nibble on my wife's toes as she slept last night. I don't know if I should take her to the party tonight or not. In fact, I'm never gonna dance again. Because guilty feet have got no rhythm. E-Mail.
I know what you're thinking: There is no September 31! That's where you are wrong. The ferrets have declared that the moment you read this is actually September 31. And the ferrets have made another declaration: Next month, October, shall be known as The Month of the Bad '80s Song. We will celebrate by making sure that every entry contains at least one line of a bad 80's song. Here is a sample entry below...
I'm feeling pretty bad today about letting the gerbil nibble on my wife's toes as she slept last night. I don't know if I should take her to the party tonight or not. In fact, I'm never gonna dance again. Because guilty feet have got no rhythm. E-Mail.