Angry Interns Welcome The Miffed Manufacture® (Not)

By (Like You Don’t Know)

Hey you … yeah, you.

That’s right-YOU! Stop reading (if that’s what you call it) this weak excuse for a magazine and come here. Here! You half-wit. Stick your head down here. Closer. That’s it, put your little head right down on the page. Now listen: WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU!?

Three years of squeezing you ingrates into my busy, multinational schedule (even postponing my appointment for Relki massage) and The Miffed Manufacture® gets one lousy letter. All because blockhead punks like you don’t have the brains or balls to step up to the plate and let him (greatness always refers to itself in the third-person) take a swing. Only one man was brave enough to step forward and be heard. Just ONE MAN among you with the guts and mustard to place pen to legal paper and expand his place in this world. You see, in spite of what all of you think about me and my ©apitalist zeal, I do have a soft side (directly adjacent to my rich side). A side of me that wants to teach, to nurture and … well, show a little love.

Now never mind that my sole correspondent, we’ll use his alias, “Irish Flee,” is temporarily housed in the California State Prison system. That’s a small detail to a martyr-someone so convinced he was in the “right,” he had to do “a little wrong.” Never mind Flee sleeps in a serial-numbered cell and bed. My attorneys have informed me that his temporary incarceration was not serial in any other nature. In fact, I routinely find myself in situations similar to what currently has Irish Flee asking Charles Manson to “please pass the salt.”

Admittedly, there have been times in the Miffed organization where it may not have been “right” to raise prices, horde profit, union bust, exploit cheap foreign labor, and violate the environment like Mike Tyson at a beauty pageant. But that never stopped an American ©apitalist from doing what was in the best interests of business. That’s what ©apitalists do-reap shitloads of profit for as little investment as your accountant can arrange. Our new friend Irish Flee is a patriot-martyr to the system that put a man on the moon, a television in every house, and a new greenhouse-fume-emitting car in every driveway (not to mention direct Internet access to real, live pornography for any kid who can dial a phone with a computer).

To not stand up and commit a little wrong is to turn your back on this great nation. ARE YOU GOING TO TURN YOUR BACK ON THIS GREAT NATION!? Answer me! ‘Cause when the going gets tough, the tough change their citizenship to the West Indies where there are no taxes …

One man!

One Irish, incarcerated man. Ah well, who cares. I have just made an executive decision, right here and now, not to burden Irish Flee with the bulk of this column until I get some more letters from the rest of you ungrateful, snowboarding punks. That’s right-I’m holding Irish Flee’s letter hostage! Now let’s speed-dial up the old Angry Interns¿ or whoever they think they are this month and throw a few quotes from Flee’s brilliant missive to them, we’ll see how much the market will bear in order for this to make it to the printer on time …

INT. TRANSWORLD MEDIA OFFICE. OCEANSIDE, CALIFORNIA.

Administrative Assistant: Times Mirror Skiboard-I mean, TransWorld Media.

Miffed Manufacture®: Code zero asking for clearance to thrust and dock.

A.A.: Did you say, thrust and dock?

M.M.®: No, I asked for Mr. Jones to hand me the black hat.

A.A.: Thank you, Mr. Miffed. Permission to enter the green zone permitted. Please hold the line.

Angry Intern¿ #1: Knee pads.

M.M.®: Hello, nasty.

A.I.¿ #1: That’s Angry¿. How did you get through security you foreign-currency-farting ©apitalist? And where’s your column? It’s late, as usual.

M.M®: Your security codes have always been the work of an amateur mind. Get your butt buies on the line, we need to talk business.

A.I.¿ #1: But …

M.M.®: I’ll hold.

Shuffling noises. Conference call is initiated.

A.I.¿ #3: Okay Miffy, we’re all here. Do your worst.

A.I.¿ #2: Yeah, why are you calling anyway? No one wants to hear it, as you can tell from your one lousy letter. From prison. As soon as Monica Lewinsky, our goddess and patron saint of all Interns¿, is on the make for column inches instead of … well, wads of Bill, your words on snowboarding are finished!

A.I.¿ #1: We’ll give her all the space she needs to keep going down in history! Har.

A.I.¿ #2: to A.I.¿ #1 Misogynist.

A.I.¿ #1: replying Frigid.

M.M.®: interrupting-Funny you should mention the letter. Let me read you a quick excerpt, and I quote: “I think you need to change your name to the “Tired And Lame Interns¿” because if you were really angry you would be out doing some good drugs or drinking yourselves into insanity and … ” I can spare the nasty bits I think. Almost a ransom note, wouldn’t you say?

A.I.¿ #1: If you’re going to skip the nasty bits, tell me in private.

A.I.¿ #2: to A.I.¿ #1 You want him to show you his private parts?

A.I.¿ #1: replying I’m warning you …

M.M.®: interrupting again Excuse me! We are negotiating.

A.I.¿ #3: The art of the swindle …

M.M.®: clearing his throat in frustration I’m sure these are all minor details to media tyrants like yourselves. I’m sure you wouldn’t be interested in how my little Irish Flee wanted to know, “Should we be writing to snowboarders who live by the f-king ocean? … When all you do is hang out at a beach with … “

A.I.¿ #1: How do they know who I hang out with? It’s none of your business who I hang out with-any of you! This is a personal issue between me and my family! I mean … it’s none of your business.

M.M.®: Business, eh? I love the way that word sounds. You know why?

A.I.¿ #3: No, and we’re afraid you’re going to tell us …

M.M.®: … Because I love business! Biiiiizzzzzzznnnnessssssss. Say it slow, Angry ones. Feel the letters curl and smolder in your mouth as they roll from letter to letter and end in that wonderful snaking 'S’ sound. Ooo, that feels perfectly sublime …

A.I.¿ #1: Just what is your business Miffy? You and all the ©apitalist crap you worship are …

M.M.®: … Are going to hold this letter and my column hostage until I get more mail from your lame rag. Strike up the presses! Bulk up the circulation! Alert the Newsstand Consultants! Call the grocery stores of America and enlist their help in forcing your immature wares upon the innocent souls who labor and toil their fingers to nubs for a few moments in the john with your magazine in one hand, while the other hand firmly shuffles back and forth. Back and forth.

A.I.¿ #3: Hold on! Jeez … okay, okay. We’ll get you more letters. We’ll do something, just … take it easy. Rent The American President again.

M.M.®: oblivious One man!

A.I.¿ #2: What? One what?

M.M.®: Never mind you worthless peon, just get me letters and I mean now, or you’ll never see this column alive again!

A.I.¿ #2: Peon? Is that what you consider us? After all we’ve done …

A.I.¿ #1: And who.

A.I.¿ #2: Don’t start with me unless your ass wants some special prosecuting!

They grapple. Their phones go dead.

A.I.¿ #3: sighing Fighting amongst ourselves again. That’s how you stay on top isn’t it Miffy-divide the working masses and conquer.

M.M.®: Divide, conquer, and screw. Don’t forget that part.

A.I.¿ #3: How could we forget, it keeps coming up-with a little Viagra.

M.M.®: Take it where you can coerce it-that’s good business.

A.I.¿ #3: Oh, eat us.

M.M.®: I told you that one day you’d be begging me for it. I’m afraid I’ll have to transfer you to customer service, please hold hangs up. Oh, it seems I’ve lost the connection. Pity. I always enjoy a good discourse. Preferably a nooner, after a nice lunch. You know, someday I’d like to have an Intern¿ or three in my own office. My very own, special little friends to get coffee, chase down figures, and do most of my work for, well, nothing. What do the French call them? Pages. As in, no more room on the …

To apply for your free, unpaid Internship¿ with The Miffed Manufacture® send an essay of how deserving you are along with measurements in care of The Angry Interns¿, 353 Airport Road, Oceanside, CA 92054. FAX: (760) 722-0653, e-mail: Internship¿ does not include benefits or laundry expenses. The Miffed Manufacture® is an equal-opportunity exploiter.d we forget, it keeps coming up-with a little Viagra.

M.M.®: Take it where you can coerce it-that’s good business.

A.I.¿ #3: Oh, eat us.

M.M.®: I told you that one day you’d be begging me for it. I’m afraid I’ll have to transfer you to customer service, please hold hangs up. Oh, it seems I’ve lost the connection. Pity. I always enjoy a good discourse. Preferably a nooner, after a nice lunch. You know, someday I’d like to have an Intern¿ or three in my own office. My very own, special little friends to get coffee, chase down figures, and do most of my work for, well, nothing. What do the French call them? Pages. As in, no more room on the …

To apply for your free, unpaid Internship¿ with The Miffed Manufacture® send an essay of how deserving you are along with measurements in care of The Angry Interns¿, 353 Airport Road, Oceanside, CA 92054. FAX: (760) 722-0653, e-mail: Internship¿ does not include benefits or laundry expenses. The Miffed Manufacture® is an equal-opportunity exploiter.