Wednesday Every Wednesday # 12

Ladies and gentlemen, this is NOT a test. Comedy So Serious! has taken over your net-waves… DO NOT attempt to adjust your dials.

Do you even understand that now antiquated reference to a bygone technology?

Well, DO NOT attempt to open a new tab because…

IT’S WEDNESDAY

Um… internet takeover?

I, your humble and recently abandoned editor, have been left alone at the helm of my own ship run aground. I am broadcasting to you from a remote island of cyber-solitude, screaming a message of questionable importance into the digital ocean-spray.

EVERYTHING IS NORMAL, FINE, NOT WORRISOME AT ALL

You need not doubt your senses as they survey the landscape. This is, indeed, a strange and troubling dystopian ecosystem. Rather than work in tandem, gaining momentum and accomplishing our aims, we are beset with predatory advances.

Office life…

The odds seem insurmountable, and if it were merely up to us alone we would surely succumb to the overwhelming negativity strewn in our paths.

Ouch, Sheep… but valid.

Editorial: It’s A Jungle… ‘IN’ Here

It’s been a while since our last post. My sincerest apologies to you, the reader. I have to admit, our troubles started when I made a claim that our writing staff’s jobs were “so easy, even monkeys could do them.” Outraged and offended, the entire staff of Comedy So Serious! staged a walkout. Needless to say, productivity has hit an all-time low.

I keep telling him to give it a second to load, but…

Yes, times have been tough for your modest moderator of internet inanity. With a staff comprised mainly of ill-tempered Baboons–and one Gibbon–I’ve spent most of my days hiding under my desk, tossing binders into the office across from me to misdirect the pack of savage simians. And although I’ve had numerous ideas for titillating editorials, the sound of typing on my keyboard incites murderous rage from the eldest Baboon. Fortune smiled upon me, however, in the form of a phone call!

Different phone call…

I picked up the receiver as fast as I could so as not to alert the monkeys and whispered, “Sal’s Pizzeria & Crematorium: We bake for your wake…” As I listened to the chilling, crackled voice on the other end of the line, it became apparent who had called me…

My Publisher

DEADLINES!!!

My publisher failed to see the heroism of cracking jokes at a time like that–monkeying around while the monkeys are around, if you will… YES! Still got it!–and instead offered some constructive criticism regarding the site, most of which I completely agree with.

I can totally see where you’re coming from…

And after several long pauses and awkward interruptions, my publisher offhandedly mentioned that local animal-control had received reports about monkeys in the area. She informed me to avoid the office; I informed her that I voided my bowels in the office, and we hung up mutually reassured, I’m sure.