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Vol. 5 Issue 3/4

Oct. 13, 2004

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BOB NOW MOTIVATED BY NEWLY REVIVED CAREER OF TONY DANZA

Reprinted from Bob's private journal

Dear Journal,

Lesson #18 I've learned from Tony Danza: NEVER GIVE UP. When every sign points to the fact that you're a washed up talentless hack, you need to prove everyone wrong and get a daytime talk show. Though it's a similar lesson to the one where you can bang the lonely divorced mother if you work as the hunky live-in housekeeper, it's still different enough to call a new lesson. Anyway, Mr. Danza has taught me so much about perseverance and I now I realize I shouldn't quit my dreams of writing a novel and/or screenplay or becoming a famous celebrity's best friend. Speaking of which, I wrote Mr. Danza another letter where I spell out just how I could be worked in as a recurring guest on his show. I also wrote a letter to Corey Feldman threatening to kill him. I'm not sure why, but it made me feel better.

RETRO BOB:

BOB HOLDS CANDLELIGHT VIGIL FOR TONY DANZA

Reprinted from Bob's private journal (June, 2002)

Dear Journal,

I finally found a cheap place to stay in Hollywood. It's the cutest little youth hostel right next to the famous Mann's Chinese Theater. It's sort of like a bed and breakfast, except with homeless people.  I can tell already it's just like a big family because everyone on my floor shares the same toilet. My bunkmate is named Ziggy and he's a young musician that ran away from home and moved out here to be famous.I told him all about my plans and that I probably could help him once I meet Tony Danza because Tony has just recorded a brand new single and most certainly has contacts in the record industry. At first he didn't believe I knew Tony, but then I showed him my letter from his attorneys. Gotta run now, I'm about to clean the urine off Tony's star while Ziggy gets his scrotum pierced. I'm so bohemian!

READ BOB'S JOURNAL ARCHIVES »


EDITOR'S RANT

by Scott Howard Leva, Editor in Chief

First, a little housekeeping: We are putting the call out [again] for writers, columnists, reviewers and most importantly, flash animators. Many of you have sent emails in the past and, well, I threw them in the trash because that's the kind of asshole I was. But I've had a change of heart because of a recent near death experience which made me both more likeable and more patient with children and shitty, amateurish writers. If you think you got what it takes, we're hiring, so send us a note.

I'd also like to give a little thanks to popular rock jock Doc Reno, for our nearly half hour interview on Miami radio last week.

Update on my future Emmy Award: I drafted a letter that will be sent off to more than 100 production companies pitching a "Bob From Accounting" TV show. Unfortunately, I haven't sent out the letter yet because I can't afford stamps. As a sidenote, any of you readers who work for the U.S. Postal Service should know that stealing stamps and sending them to us is considered a crime of passion and nearly impossible to prosecute.

Tons of T-shirts in the BFA Store

Weekly Columnists Below


Cruel, Cruel Email From Deep Within the Bowels of Slacker Hell.


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Get dating and relationship advice from Debby, the somewhat bitter, mediocre-looking friend of several really hot chicks.

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Gallery of Children's Literature Vol.1, Vol.2

Worst Case Scenario Handbook Vol. 1 Vol. 2 Vol. 3  Vol. 4

"American Idol" Hatemail

Bob and Corey Feldman

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Report: 50 is the New 30 for Delusional Women

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SpaceShipOne Awarded 10 Million "Doll-Hairs" Clarifies X-Prize Committee

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Booty Call Recipient Still Doesn't Get It

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Renaissance Fair Actor Worries About Typecasting, Syphilis

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Martha Stewart Trades Stock Portfolio for Six Million Cartons of Smokes

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archives:

God Still Ignoring Sports-Related Prayers

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LAST WEEK'S BEST!

Liberal Accuses Last Friend of Fascism

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CRAPPY POETRY CORNER

"Judgment Day"

by M. Cartright, Montgomery, AL

Just because I don't smoke pot
And I don't drink what's considered a lot
And I'm saving myself till my wedding day
Never taking the Lord's name in vain

I'm polite to my parents
And rarely talk back
The 10 Commandments
is not a bunch of flack

I never make empty wishes
for superficial things like material wealth
I would much rather die
then be a pervert and touch myself

Think about that next time you make fun of me
Don't tie me naked to a tree
Or call me a dyky bitch
Because only the Lord's scratch I will itch

In heaven I shall be judged one day
And the Lord knows that I'm not gay
I've learned one thing that I know is true
God loves me a lot more than you

Life is really a great big test
Of who gets ahead without showing her breasts
As soon as I leave this high school jail
The rest of you can burn in hell!

Mashed Pertators"

by Alex Dulles, Bloomington, IL

This is a question for all the ages
of you, me and mashed pertators

I'm not complainin', please understand
about the hugs, the looks and the frisky hand

But there's a limit to all this love
Is it the strawberry jelly and the rubber glove?

Or the peanut butter with whipped cream on top?
Pretending you're a pig and I'm your slop

But it's gotta stop now, I'm getting sick
of Cheese Whiz or the giant carrot stick

Can't we make love like regular folk?
It's hard to wash off dried egg yolk

I knew our sex life would need to mend
When I found mashed pertators in my rear end


Are you a crappy poet?
Send it in
Winning poetry entries will be awarded a free T-shirt from the BFA store!

 

 

 

 

 

 





 

©2001-2004 Bob From Accounting/Orange Planet Entertainment, Inc- All rights reserved. So don't steal -- that means you too, Mr. Steven Spielberg.