For a classic April Fool’s prank, tell your coworker that you poisoned his lunch with cyanide. Once he gets off the phone with poison control, reveal that you really put in arsenic and check out the look on his face!
-Melissa Chiasson and Jordy Greenblatt
If you are hyperventilating, you can reestablish a more normal respiration rate by breathing into a chloroform-soaked cloth.
That time I went to James Bond’s house for a 007 marathon, he talked for a whole half hour about the importance of diversifying my investment portfolio to include municipal bonds. He ended up guilting me into it by telling me I needed to think about my family, so I now think of them as “shame bonds,” which sounds a lot like James Bond.
Parker Carson used to work as a valet, and she’s continually telling stories about how she had to choose between putting SUVs in the “park or Carson” Center parking lots.
When I went to KFC with Ted Sanders and he told me about his time as a colonel in the Army Reserves, he wouldn’t stop running his hands along the sides of the table, like they were wood sanders.
John Clogger always gets the toilet stopped up, which inevitably results in Jon the janitor guilting us all into going to his next clogging recital.
When Luke, who insists on being referred to as “Dr. Baker,” brings in cookies, I can tell that he uses fake chocolate chips, which reminds me of how people mishear Taylor Swift’s lyric “Fakers gonna fake, fake, fake, fake, fake,” as “Bakers gonna bake, bake, bake, bake.” Someone who only misheard it a little bit would hear, “Bakers gonna fake, fake, fake, fake, fake.’
Earl Goodman is always honest and frank with his criticisms, without ever being mean-spirited. He’s as good a man as John Goodman, who is so great he should be knighted by the Queen of England, which would kind of make him “Earl Goodman.”
Last time we went out for drinks after work, Jim Beam drank so much whiskey that we told him we wouldn’t let him drive home and made him give us his keys. He told us he was fine and after some arguing back and forth he said he’d prove it: he made us all go to his gym across the street and watch him walk the balance beam. Unfortunately we were right, and, long story short, he’s in a coma.
-Jordy Greenblatt, Lincoln Sedlacek
When I press the horn on my sleek red convertible, it’s going to cause some heads to turn. This is because when somebody hears a car horn blare out a complete sentence at top volume, they very rarely ignore it. I am extrapolating from what I imagine my own reaction would be in that scenario, but it seems like a reasonable assumption.
I don’t appreciate figurative speech. I have as much subtlety as the second ‘t’ in the word ‘subtlety,’ which is pronounced exactly as the letter ‘t’ is named. When I look for a car that says a particular phrase or sentence, I want it engineered to do so plainly and audibly.
If the car didn’t announce its purpose loudly and in clear language, there’s no guarantee that passersby would even notice it, let along register its significance as an indicator of my lucrative business dealings. I don’t want there to be any ambiguity or speculation concerning my socioeconomic status. I want people to know that I belong squarely to the upper echelons of society without expending time or energy on arriving to this conclusion.
I have various other ideas to further propagate the news of my wealth using my new car. Perhaps I could affix decals printed daily that bare the date and my net worth as of that morning. If the sheer fact that I spend money so frivolously that I have a standing daily contract with a decal printer doesn’t alert people to my fortune, the enumeration of my net worth will certainly elucidate that point.
Ideally I would like screens on the sides of the car that indicate my net worth, updating in real time. However, I am a pragmatist and I don’t think this technology can be reliably installed on the exterior of a car. Therefore, I am willing to settle for advertising my wealth with the simple and informative car horn message above as an air cannon showers the sidewalks with photos of myself dressed in expensive suits and shaking hands with rich and famous people.
If, in the middle of a presentation, someone asks you a question that you don’t know the answer to, try singing “Gary, Indiana” while slowly backing out of the room.
“Guys, which Teletubby is better-known: Laa-Laa or Po?”
“I’ll do some Googling. See what current political players I can shoehorn into a satire piece with minimal research.”
“What about a piece called ‘The Banana Bunch’? It’d be like The Brady Bunch, except they’d all be bananas.”
“We’ve got to take advantage of this! Who knows when Justin Beiber will say something this stupid again!”
“I want to make a difference with this next piece. You know, say something meaningful. How soon can you photoshop Kim Jong-Un’s head onto a flying squirrel?”
Respond to emails within 24 hours
Assert your dominance by marking your territory with urine and wearing a blazer
Make a list of short-, midrange-, and long-term goals
Lick every inch of your body at least twice a day
Work with other lemurs to achieve your goals
Do not eat young
Pursue your interests, like flute, or yoga, or pooping in a tree hole
PUT IT ALL ON RED 