We asked you, the Rabid Faithful, how you felt about having a whole lot of RobbieRobTown chaffing your nipples. You were, understandably, concerned. Then we told you it was only in T-Shirt form. You were still reluctant, but after a few Hard Lemonades, you agreed.

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You voted to increase our costs in hopes that we would sell you things, but then pull that football out of the way. Well, we’re no blockheads, we might just surprise you yet.

Some of you thought it was actually a good idea. And many of you long for a place where an elf can study dentistry in the arctic. Way it goes, kid, way it goes.

a short sketch about domesticity and time travel by Dawn Dumont

Erin: Why are the dishes still in the sink?

Todd: Umm…I thought you were going to do them.

Erin: Before I left, I distinctly said – “Do the dishes, Todd, its your turn.”

Todd: Oh, I didn’t hear you.

Erin: Yes you did. Because then I said to you, “Did you hear me?” And you said, “Yes, I heard you.”

Todd: Oh well, then sorry.

Erin: I don’t want sorry. I want clean dishes.

Todd: I can’t right now.

Erin: You’re playing video games!

Todd: Erin, remember when we were talking about the difference between asking and bossing?

Erin: They smell! Why didn’t you do them?!!

Todd: Do you want me to build a time machine? Cuz I will build a time machine.

Erin: You don’t know how to build a time machine. You didn’t even pass grade 11 physics.

Todd: There you go. Now I just built a time machine.

Erin: No you didn’t.

Todd: You shouldn’t have goaded me. Now I’ve destroyed the space time continuum.

Erin: Why are the dishes still dirty then?

Todd: Because I did the dishes – and then you dirtied them again. So now its your turn to do them.

Erin: Wrong. Cuz I stole your time machine and did them and then you dirtied them making it your turn again. And I also slept with Jack.

Todd: Why did you do that?

Erin: Because you didn’t do the dishes!

Todd: But Jack has herpes. Now we both have herpes.

Erin: No, I went to the future where they have the cure and I brought it back for us.

Todd: That was nice of you.

Erin: I’m not giving you the cure until you do the dishes.

Todd: Well. I do not respond to blackmail.

Erin: Thats not blackmail.

Todd: Bribery?

Erin: Kind of.

Todd: Doesn’t matter. I just went to the future and plant a car bomb in your car.

Erin: I just removed it and put it in your car.

Todd: I went to the past and killed your family cat.

Erin: Ryley! He got hit by a car.

Todd: No, I strangled him with my bare hands. Then I threw him in front of that car.

Erin: You’re sick. Wait, I just killed your grandfather.

Todd: Poppy! Not Poppy! He wore suspenders!

Erin: Oh get over it. I killed him only 10 seconds before he was gonna die anyway. And I used a down-filled pillow.

Todd: Still, its the principle! I’m so sorry Pappy.

Erin: Do the dishes and I’ll go back and stop myself.

Todd: I killed you.

Erin: When?

Todd: Two hours before we met.

Erin: Asshole!

Todd: Then I went back and stopped myself from killing you. I said, “She’s not worth it Todd.” And I agreed.

Erin: I can’t believe you killed me. Fuck. You know my mother always said you were the type to kill me.

Todd: I’m sorry.

Erin: (Sniffs.)

Todd: I said I was sorry.

Erin: Couldn’t you have at least brought me flowers?

Todd: I did.

Erin: Where are they then?

Todd: Right in front of you. They are invisible flowers. I invented them in year 2135.

Erin: What would be the point of…?

Todd: In time, you will understand.

Erin: I think we should see other people.

Todd: Why? We’re going to get back together anyway. I’ll go back in time, do the dishes, stop myself from killing your cat and then invent the I-Pod and then we’ll move to Borneo so you can study borneo wildlife like you always wanted.

Erin: Cool, then I’m gonna take a nap.

To Doctor Josef Nefario, head of Applied Interglobal Industries, Sept 12, 2008:

Dr Nefario, I’m writing you to inform you that payment is past due for our recent renovations to your Los Angeles office. We had agreed on strict terms, due to the nature of the alterations, which our office strongly advised against. In addition, on our post install visit, our quality control assistant Barry noted that you had failed to apply for the appropriate relaxations and permits, as you had stated you would. Normally, our office would handle these matters, but you were very insistent on this matter.

To reiterate, we are still owed for the alterations, specifically the floor release mechanism you requested to be placed in front of your desk. When we spoke, we shared with you our concerns for potential damage and liability for this. If the flooring were to fail, persons standing above it would fall directly to the area below your office.

When Barry inspected the flooring, he noted that you had replaced the manual release we installed with a electronically governed device of your own. Barry informed us this device is wired to a button on your desk, and that you had told him it was for the sake of ease in operation. I must again implore you that this is VERY dangerous, a simple button push could lead to injury and damage.

Barry also told me that when you demonstrated the device, he noticed you had replaced the storage area below your office with what he described as a “Tiger Pit”. I’m sure he was mistaken, but we’ve had trouble contacting Barry recently, he’s no longer answering his phone or responding to emails.

At any rate, we’re still awaiting final payment for our work, and hope not to have to escalate matters further.

Thanks,

Steve Barrington,
Eagle Contracting

——————————
To: Steve Barrington, Eagle Contracting, Sept 19, 2008

Mr Barrington, my name is Jessica Freemont, I’m the newly appointed CFO and acting CEO of Applied Interglobal, now known as “InterG”. You’re likely unaware, as our publicity team has been working hard to keep things out of the paper, but there was recently what could only be described as a terrorist attack on our Los Angeles office. It seems that a strike team, lead by a British agent entered the offices, confronted Dr. Josef, and proceed to lay waste to the facility. Dr. Josef whereabouts are unknown, and in the interim, I’ve been appointed acting CEO.

I’d like to address your payment concerns, but unfortunately, the majority of our accounting staff has been terminated. Let me be frank, I do not mean this in the “let go” sense of the word. Our entire Accounts Payable team was trapped on the 23rd floor, which was engulfed by fire due to an explosion in the lower floors. Until we are able to get our systems back up and running, we will be unable to process your request.

I am able to provide some assistance to you, in the form of information concerning the whereabouts of your quality assurance expert Barry. While he died tragically, it will be comforting to you to know that it doesn’t appear he suffered, evidence shows the Siberian Tiger was swift and methodical. While the copious amounts of blood in Dr. Josef’s office made identification difficult, we later recovered Barry’s I.D. card from the Tiger, who was also killed by some type of laser/watch combination. You’ll also take comfort in knowing that your assessment was correct, the button rig failed to operate properly, we believe this led to one or possibly more tigers escaping from the storage area.

We at InterG offer our condolences, we also lost over 132 employees during this assault. Furthermore, the board of directors was shocked to discover that Dr. Josef was not, in fact, developing a new solar power orbital platform, but in fact, a weapons array capable of vaporizing a city from space. We’ve been able to glean from various sources, including Dr. Josef’s own journal, that he intended to blackmail nations of the world. Let me be clear when I say that this type of behavior is NOT acceptable within InterG’s corporate culture.

Best wishes to you,

Jessica Freemont
InterG

Dear 15 year old with the Run DMC T-shirt:

I saw you this morning, while I was driving my 6 year old to school. You had the usual teenage attire: Weird looking hoodie, straight leg jeans, and skate shoes.

All of this is a-ok, and normal. In fact, you wouldn’t have even registered on my radar, except for the fact that you had on a RUN DMC T-shirt. Now, i’ll spare you the old guy “It was 1 degree C at the time, you should probably do up that hoodie”, and we’ll skip straight to this:

“What the hell are you doing wearing a RUN DMC T-shirt?” Nothing else in your appearance expressed a 80′s retro vibe, nor did you dress like a fan of Hip Hop in any way. You’re 15, so when they were at the top of the game, you were minus 9 years old. In fact, you were only 2 when “Crown Royal” came out, and that was waaaay past the sell by date. I’m cool with you digging their songs, they had a lot of great stuff back in the 80′s.

So it comes down to this.

1)You’re wearing the shirt to profess your love for the Kings from Queens, which makes you awesome. If this is the case, throw out those stupid looking jeans, and get something loose and big. And get rid of the skate shoes, or at the VERY LEAST, make sure they’re old school Adidas.

2)you’re wearing it “ironically”, which makes you the worst kind of person in the world. Hey hipsters, here’s a tip: The only people wearing something ironically are knights in the middle ages, or possibly Iron Man. You’re just fucktarded. Take off the stupid trucker hats, shave, and lose the air of superiority that you decided one day you’d like to have.

In closing, RUN DMC is awesome, but only for the right reasons. Embrace the coolness, or stop wearing the shirt.

Admin Rock.

Dear Non-White-Male correctness reader:

You know, we were having a conversation the other day at The Correctness. A grown up, political conversation about how infuriatingly hard it is to insult white males, because, as the entitled culture of authority and power, nothing really hurts our feelings that much. You can call me a cracker, or greymeat, or gringo, or whatever, but it just doesn’t sting like our bleachy-white and bleachy-caustic lexicon of slurs we have for you folks. At the end of the day, we still have all that annoying capital, and equity, and those reassuring smug savings plans, and reusable grocery bags made of organic cotton that required ten times as much water to grow than pesticidey cotton. We’re a hard target!

But I’ve got one for you: One that you can use on any white dude you see, that will hurt, that will raise eyebrows, that will damage and demean him, and he will have no recourse. Better yet, there is simply no way any white dude in his right mind will ever try to reclaim this word like our black friends have done with the “N” word, and our gay friends have done with the “F” word (No, not “Freddy Mercury” you misguided GLBTQQA BYOB BBQ hostess). No rich white dude will ever give a high five to his golf buddies and call him this word affectionately.

The word you should try using is: Pedophile.

“Pedophile!” you can shout, as you point at any white guy- Especially if he is a parent, and is carting his kids around the park. “Pedophile!” you might scream again, as you stare sternly at him, your accusing glare unblinking.

At best he will manage stammering “I… I, uh, I most certainly, uh, am not!” but more than likely he will waddle away quickly as he tries to gather up his kids in his arms without looking all creepy.

So, for our non-white-male friends, I give you the best future slur for white males: Pedophile.

Ain’t that right, my pedos? (see? “Reclaiming” it sounds awful.)

Sincerely,

RobbieRobtown

In an effort to expand our horizons, The Correctness has been asking a few funny people to write and article or two for us. Improbably, some of them said yes. This one is by the oft hilarious Dawn Dumont, who resides in Edmonton.

Day 1
What a lark! The local coffee shop has hired me to sling coffee. Perfect employment while I work on my novel. Less Henry James, more Graham Greene, my novel will be fuelled with free coffee.

Boss looks like she might be storing enough food in her bosom to feed a small town during a blackout. Black hair, dark eyes and a nose that reminds me of a chocolate bar. She has the aroma of beans. Not coffee beans. Baked beans.

I had to stifle a laugh as she went over the benefit package to me; I told her not to bother I’m hardly going to be here more than a month.

She told me that the guy before me also had a master’s degree in English. “He ended up strangling himself with his belt while he was masturbating. Weirdo.”

Spent the day learning how to use the cash register. Money – the boring preoccupation of the plebian masses.

Still expecting the job to be a lark! Oh Hemingway, how you would laugh!

Day 2
My trainer turned out to be a goddess named Jennifer. “Call me Jenny,” She said. But in my heart she will be known as Guinevere, the Arthurian queen renowned for her beauty and grace. She taught me basics of steaming, grinding and pouring. “You’re pretty good,” she said, “It took me weeks to figure out the steam machine.” Beautiful and humble. Spend half hour daydreaming about marrying Guinevere and watching her polish my Pulitzer.

The crowds stream into the store like a tsunami; wave after wave of caffeine deranged fools sweeps over me. I am almost swept away into the dark depths of insanity. Guinevere’s sweet face leads me back to the surface each time.

Day 3
Venti half caf extra hot half sweet non-fat mocha with whip – this is the drink that nearly broke the proverbial camel’s back. I hold back the urge to spit in the face of the man who ordered it. Imagine this: it came from a man with a hardhat tucked under his arm. How sad that the proletariat has succumbed to the vices of the upper class. I almost said as much but he appeared more Neanderthal than Hominid.

Worse. I was jotting down a few notes on character development for my novel in the backroom when my boss yelled, “Hey Fancy pants, we need you out here” right in front of Guinevere. I barely conceal my rancor.

Later, a low fat brownie fell onto the floor. Boss asked: “Hey Larry wanna go halfers on it?” I politely said no.

Day 7
During a break from the hordes, Guinevere and I clean the espresso machine together. Guinevere opens up to me. She confesses that she is in between things, trying to decide which esthetic school to attend. I told her that she is thinking too small, “You are too good to be doing anyone’s nails. You should be served, not serving.” Guinevere gifts me with a shy smile.

A woman wearing a “I heart Country Music” t-shirt complained about our prices. I tell her that there’s a gas station just down the street that serves swill they call coffee and add: “you better hurry, they’re giving away a Garth Brooks cd with every fill-up.” She demands to speak to my boss.

Spend two hours constructing perfect pyramid of muffins.

Around closing time Boss takes me aside to chide me for earlier remarks. I refuse to defend myself. Boss also mentions that Guinevere has a boyfriend.

I eat entire perfect pyramid of muffins.

Day 11
Drank bottle of wine and entered world of creative bliss. Word after word found their way onto the page of their own accord.

I drag myself into work. Boss tells me that I look like hell. God how I yearn to whip her with my wit! But I remember that rent is due in two days.

Mess up six drinks in a row. Guinevere offers to trade places with me. I tell her, “Sweet Guinevere, you are an angel in disguise” and kiss her hand with a flourish.

Day 12
Read yesterday’s pages. Cannot understand any of it.

Day 14
While I am outside disposing of the day’s detritus, boss approaches me. She tells me that Guinevere – my queen, my heart, my light through the darkness – no longer wants to work the same shift as me.

I am afraid my expression mirrors that of a Midwest yokel encountering Times Square for the first time, with jaw wide open and eyes bursting with astonishment. I ask her, “I demand you tell me who has told you this lie!”

Boss replies, “Jenny thinks you’re creepy.”

I am speechless.

Boss asks me if I have plans for Saturday: “I have tickets to a Rascal Flats concert…” I murmur about a prior engagement.

Day 15
I work my first shift with Brad. Brad highlights his hair. Brad calls his girlfriend every two minutes. When Brad is not talking to his girlfriend, Brad is talking about techno music.

After an hour, I take off my apron, fold it neatly and leave it on my boss’s desk.

I stuff a box of day old brownies in my bag.

Day 20
A week of applying for jobs has passed. Finally, the phone finally rings. It isn’t what I hoped for. In fact it’s worse than I could have imagined. Capitalism invites me into her smelly, steaming core: Walmart.

Oh Guinevere, you have sentenced me to Dante’s inferno!

(3D model courtesy of Guy van der Walt www.plasticboy.co.uk)

So you are flicking around on a lazy Sunday, just seeing what’s on, kind of half watching three different shows when suddenly BLAM there it is. A movie that makes you put down the remote, despite the fact that it’s on cable two or three times a week, and you have seen it countless times.

Perhaps it’s just a throw back to the old days…when putting a movie on TV was kind of an event. Then came home video, and the higher cable channels and it just become less and less special. (That’s right, I’m old enough to remember BEFORE home video)

Now, the entire Star Wars Saga is on in marathon form every other holiday on Spike TV. But there are movies that still snag you, give you pause, make you smile, and make it increasingly difficult to turn the channel.

These are the SURF STOPPERS!!!

For Amber, my wife, that list includes Titanic, Dances with Wolves (I think she has a secret crush on Wind In His Hair) Sleepless in Seattle, You’ve Got Mail and anything with Sandra Bullock in it.

Here are a few from my list:

THE GODFATHER

For some weird reason I almost always come into this when Michael is about to take care of the family’s little problem with the Turk and McCrosky the dirty cop. Once I’m there I absolutely can’t turn the channel until Michael drops the gun and walks out. If I have time, or I’m not getting heavy sighs and rolled eyes from the wife, I try and hang in at least until Vito hold his meeting and says “If something should happen to him, if he should be shot by the police…hanged in his jail cell…if he should be STRUCK BY LIGHTNING…then I’m gonna blame some of the people in this room…and that I do not forgive.”

I have a similar problem with Godfather part 2 now that I’m thinking about it. “I know it was you Fredo…You broke my heart!!!!”

It’s a shame they didn’t make a third one of those.

No, they didn’t.

THEY DID NOT LA LA LA LA NO THIRD MOVIE DOES NOT EXIST LA LA LA!!!!!

ALMOST FAMOUS

This is the last time we will feature Jimmy Fallon in a photo, we promise.

This movie makes me happy in innumerable ways. The soundtrack, the script, Philip Seymour Hoffman, the love letter to an era at it’s cultural peak, and from what I can tell, the only great performance in Kate Hudson’s career. Watch her face when William tells her she was just traded for 50 bucks and a case of beer. It goes through about 5 different levels of hurt, indignation, despair, and finally the urge to pull it back together with a joke. “What KIND of beer?” she asks with a sad smile and tears still streaming down her face. She DESERVED that Oscar nomination don’t doubt it for a second.

I used to identify with William the most, nerdy writer, obsessed with rock music, out of his element, dealing with a hopeless unrequited crush. Then it occurred to me that in reality,as I get older and crankier I’m Lester Bangs.

“Yeah well, you’ll meet em all again on their long journey toward the middle.”

The whole “Industry of Cool” speech explains EXACTLY how I feel about the current state of the music industry.

And Zooey Deschenel whispers “One Day…you’ll be cool” to me in my dreams.

LAWRENCE of ARABIA

"Do you think we'll get raped by Turks, Ali?" "What the Hell, Dude?"

This is what Dune should have looked like. The camera loves the desert every bit as much as T.E. Lawrence does, and when that music swells, and the camera pans across caramel colored ripples of sand…I mean man, I HATE the heat as only fat people can but this movie makes me ache to see the desert. Funny thing though, this only applies to anything before they take Akaba. I have no real desire to see T.E. Lawrence’s probably fictional rape fantasies being carried out. So yeah, it’s fast and loose with history but who cares? And what a cast! INTRODUCING Peter O Toole? Omar Shariff, Alec Guiness, Anthony Quinn, Jose Ferrer, Claude Rains? There were more knights in this movie than there was in Excalibur. Which reminds me…

EXCALIBUR

"Uhhh, no...I AM IRON MAN, BITCH!"

What a big, gorgeous awesome piece of goulda THAT movie is. If you don’t get chills when you hear the Carmina Burana and hear “Lancelot! Lancelot is with us!” as he emerges swinging in the mist…well I put it to you that you are not a man. So…you know…double check yer junk. This is a veritable buffet of Who’s Who with a healthy side of “Who’s that? You’ve got Patrick Stewart, Liam Neeson, Helen Mirren, and Gabriel Byrne, who manages to nail a hot chick while still wearing his armour, thus providing us with a vivid demonstration of Dark Ages safe sex. I love Nicol Williamson’s weird and goofy Merlin, with that great Shakespearean delivery of the charm of Making (Yes, I’ve memorized it. So what?) I love the guts, the gore, the pervasive sense of honor, and yes even the armor. This one stays on for as long as I can get away with. To this day whenever I see a spoon in mashed potatoes I mutter “He who draws the spoon from the Potatoes…he shall be king!”

ANY FIGHT IN ANY ROCKY MOVIE

Afterwards, they are going to go get a "Stew on"

If I know the fight is closing in…the channel stays right where it is until the battered and bruised Rocky staggers out and calls for his girlfriend/wife (Depending on which one you watch) I still like the fights in One and Three the best, but for some reason people have a real soft spot for Four. The appeal is completely lost on Amber. Mind you, I don’t know any girls who dig Rocky. I guess Rocky is like Rush…chicks just don’t get it

THE EMPIRE STRIKES BACK

Just LOOKING at this makes me smell popcorn retroactively.

If Star Wars is on, I’ll often flip over to it just to see where it’s at. For some reason I always seem to be coming in at the Death Star trench run when I’m flipping around. Which reminds me…Porkins? Really? There’s a fat guy and you call him Porkins? Seems a little cruel. It seems like he got teased a lot.

“Hey Porkins, we just built you a Double Large X-X-Wing to fly, but good luck getting it off the ground”

“We greased the Cockpit for ya, buddy, you’re ready to go”

“I think his Artoo unit is a deep fryer!”

“Awww Jesus, there’s Gravy on these controls…Poooorrrrkiiiiinnnssss!”

I digress.

Anyway, I flip Star Wars and Jedi on and off, catch favourite bits and move on. But when Empire comes on…it stays on. House rule.

INHERIT THE WIND

"Your Honor, I move to strike all references to Kirk Cameron and bananas from the record"

Before there was Intelligent Design, there was just flat out prosecution

The Scopes Monkey trial fascinates me…I suppose it’s my passionate feelings on the issue but I love this play, and I love the original movie even more. I just watched a bit of the made for TV remake with Jason Robards and Kirk Douglas from the 80′s. Oddly enough, I have no problem turning that one off at all. But Spencer Tracy and Frederick March snag me just about every time. Gene Kelly also does a great job as a snide big city journalist trapped in the backwoods covering the ultimate science versus religion showdown.

Also of interest, Harry Morgan, Colonel Potter from MASH is playing the judge. Jesus, how old IS that guy? We are approaching Abe Vigioda territory here.

So gang, what stops your remote? Let us know below!

A Glossary of Terms that have yet to, but ought to come into everyday usage. Today’s Correctness Glossary term:

DEXTER : (DEXter) v. 1.) to harm, mutilate or kill someone who richly and deeply deserves it.

EXAMPLE: Did you hear about that guy who left his baby in the car to die while he was in the Casino? Someone ought to Dexter the shit out of that guy

Pretty straightforward I think. Go ahead and make your own examples below. Or let me know if the chick who plays his sister (and is his real life wife) is hot or not, because I can’t quite tell and I keep flip-flopping on the issue.

Oh, wait, just thought of another one…

“Sexist bloggers who treat women like objects ought to be Dextered.”

A Glossary of Terms that have yet to, but ought to come into everyday usage. Today’s Correctness Glossary term:

Nicklebackery (Nikl-bak-ery) n..pl. 1.) the act of enabling or encouraging mediocrity .

Example: The canceling of Arrested Development was a heinous act of Nicklebackery.

Our society is rife with Nicklebackery, everything being whitewashed for mass consumption, poured over endlessly by suits and every last ounce of creativity is squeezed out of it and what is left is the artistic equivalent of gruel. And we, a nation of abused Dickensian orphans line up and ask for more. Image is calculated, prefabrication no longer anathema but rather standard operating procedure. People go to concerts and talk about what the performers wore instead of what they sang. The press covers the latest Lady Gaga outfit not as if it were relevant, but rather as if it was VITAL.

Personally, I blame Nicklebackery for :

Scott Pilgrim’s poor box office showing
The proliferation of cop shows with initials in them
Two and a Half Men
Keys to the VIP
Katy Perry
The careers of Megan Fox AND Michael Bay

And a whole host of societal ills that are poisoning pop culture and making it every bit as disposable as its critics say it is.

So your job, dear reader is to take this term and use it to label every boring, bland, committee based piece of pop culture garbage there is.

I hope you have a few weeks vacation…it’s going to take awhile.

Dear Supposed RobbieRobTown Fan club:

Some time ago, TBinns became convinced there was a vast, sexy conspiracy surrounding me. As a consequence of his delusion about my “fan club”, TBinns suggested we hold a contest to win a Dream Date with yours truly.

Here are some contest Fun Facts:

Total number of entries: 2.

Total qualifying entries based on rules: 0

Number of times Emma Stone, who I specifically invited to enter the contest, entered the contest: 0

TBinns is a dear friend, and certainly must not have intended to prove how immensely and universally disinteresting I am to women, gay men, and the complexly transgendered.  Nonetheless, he has proven that only people who have personally met me are interested in a date with me, and my writing does not, in fact, speak for itself as some hilarious envoy of my sex appeal. My writing, in terms of its metaphorical function in acting on my behalf, is less like an diplomatic envoy, and more like an out of date newsletter with a strip of tearaway numbers, perhaps advertising the sale of a NES or a used mattress. There are bite marks on the controller from my sister.

Now, to be fair, the stakes may have been a bit high, the pressure is always on you folks to say “the funnies”, and I am sorry if that dissuaded any of you from entering. God knows, I feel the hot breath of the failure monster down my neck every time I submit the briefest quip to this intimidating website. Let’s take a moment to congratulate our two brave  entrants for their work:

NotVictoria (whose name is actually Victoria) submitted a literal dream date she had with me in it, during which I committed felonies, apparently. Victoria was sadly disqualified because I can’t really make her dreams come true, nor can I eat at McDonalds without experiencing immediate, and violent, diarrhea. She is the winner by default though, and we are arranging dinner, anywhere but fucking McDonalds, that greasy nightmare fuckhole.

Irene (whose real name is Irene) submitted an excellent date involving passage aboard the Nostromo, and a show at Westworld, amongst other things. Irene was disqualified purely because of distance, she is in Singapore currently.

Emma Stone was disqualified by not entering at all, likely due to her fear that I am an insane fan who would harm her. I would not, but I guess young Hollywood can’t be too careful these days. Plus, she has never met me, and consequently has no idea of my improbable personal charm. She would be tearing my phone number off and shopping for a NES.

I think this should put to rest any questions any of you may have had about me, the contest, or Emma Stone.

Next contest: Name TBinns Baby! Rules: TBinns will name his baby whatever you suggest, no matter how stupid. Contest closes in 7 months or so…

P.S. Currently seeking the Ramona Flowers to my Scott Pilgrim- Though, if you are Kim Pine, that might be cooler…