Likeotomy
Doctors performing likeotomy on a volunteer subject.
A reading from the book of Demotivational Dictionary:
likeotomy |līˈkätəmē|
noun (pl. likeotomies) [ usu. in sing. ]
usage of the “favorite” button on tweets about my lobotomy: too bad you are now unable to grok the likeotomy I gave you.
A reading from the book of Demotivational Dictionary.
I’m pretty much a collector of likes. Feel free to share one of your own. I always appreciate them. I think.
[I] want to say thank you to you. I haven’t had an orthodox career and I’ve wanted more than anything to have your respect. The first time I didn’t feel it, but this time I feel it. And I can’t deny the fact that you like me. Right now, you like me! Thank you.
–Sally Fields, March 25, 1985
Sally Field about to bludgeon a cretin who failed to favorite her tweet.
Thank you, Ms. Fields. That’s exactly how I feel each and every time one of my tweets gets a star on the Twitter Walk of Shame. I’ve personally counted more visits by Halley’s Comet, though.
It works like this: You see a tweet you like (or some other masturbatory form of social media expression) and you like it. So you click the little icon that means favorite, like, upvote, star and/or what not. What’s so hard to understand about that?!
It turns out that “like” is sometimes the wrong tone.
“My father molested me every single day until I was eight years old.”
Do you think, somehow, that “like” seems misplaced here?
It Was Almost Like A Song
I’m not going to lie to you. This image has nothing to do with this post except it will one day be featured at a funeral home in place of my face for my Wake Me Up Before You Go Go. I will remain anonymous to the bitter end.
Nothing too heavy today…
And, regarding my beloved chemical suit, I leave that to … what? Are you kidding me? None of you get that. I’m taking it with me. Bury me in it!
—The Last Will and Testament of Tom B. Taker, Chapter 1, Section A, Article 1
As most of you know, I have been busy most of the last few decades planning my wake. A wise man in a Stephen King movie once said, “Get busy living or get busy dying” and I took to that advice to heart like a leading a guru to tequila and telling him not to drink.
Of course this planning primarily took the form of picking out songs that participants (guests? attendees? celebrants? wakers? invitees? z-list celebs?) would, at least once, get to enjoy my eclectic taste in music.
I thought it was a pretty good plan. Besides, nothing pleases me more than the thought of people coming together to remember my life and having to listen to some random songs while they are left to ponder, “What the hell is this crap supposed to convey to us about Tom?” Ha ha ha! Suffer!
Then, this week, in the name of research, I attended the memorial service for a gentleman I knew and I thought to myself, “See? This is what happens when you fail to plan and allow your loved ones to pick the music on your behalf.”
Actually, I didn’t really know the man that well. He was the father of one friend and the husband of another. After attending the service I have to say I regret not knowing him better. He was a great guy, the kind who would give away the shirt off his back, always with a warm smile at the ready, and the sort who could cheer people up even when the chips were down.
I also knew him from the liquor store where he seemed friendly enough as he handed me bottle after bottle for several years before he got sick. See? We just went full circle. From tequila to the liquor store and back again. That’s what this guru calls the circle of life.
This post will document the set list that was used to send this soul on its way back home.
Continue reading →
A cry for help
Did you hear the one ... ?
When it comes to social media I guess you could say I act just like my real life self: Socially awkward.
I don’t have that many followers on my Twitter. Currently I’m at an all-time high with 68. And a lot of those are people who describe themselves as “founders” of consulting companies, entrepreneurs, and social media experts. In other words, people who will follow practically anyone (self-evident, I know!) and don’t actually know a damn thing about me.
Thankfully most of the people are real and wonderful and considered valued friends that I’ve made exclusively through my blogging.
Credit: Wikipedia
Verily, when it comes to Twitter I value quality over quantity.
And I’m not normally one to come right out and ask for the social connections. Self-promotion is not my strong suit. My strategy so far has been, “just be yourself.” Hmm, on second thought, maybe my social situation isn’t so mysterious after all! 🙂
This time, though, I’m doing a science experiment and I need your help. (Yeah, we’ll call it that.) Last night in front of the telly I wrote a tweet that I instantly fell in love with. I bolted from my chair, but by the time I reached the computer I had already forgotten it. Damn. Then, this morning, a cat rubbed up against my leg and it all came back to me.
@shoutabyss
Tom B. TakerSamuel L. Jackson narrates a new Disney movie: Enough is enough! I have had it with these motherfucking cats on these motherfucking plains!
That’s the tweet. LOL! Sometimes I crack myself up. Too bad most of the world it still missing out on my unique humor stylings and wit. Yeah, it sucks to be them.
So, just this once (yeah right) I’m asking my Twitter and blogging pals: If you like the tweet, please retweet it. Let’s see if we can make it all trendy and shit.
Shameless self-promotion and self-flagellation. That’s the new me.
If you like the tweet, “retweet” it, if you dare.
Shouts from the Abyss 
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