5 Things More Likely to Kill You Than a Terrorist Attack or my Drunk Driving Accident

Here’s a parody article I wrote to the type of article “Things more likely to kill you than a terrorist attack.” I didn’t actually get in a drunk driving accident, although I keep trying really hard.


When will there be another attack? How many will lives will be taken this year? Who is this faceless enemy?

It seems that whenever we talk about public safety, our biggest fear is terrorism, or my 2012 drunk driving accident that took the lives of eight high school students.

Although acts of terrorism can be extremely tragic and unsettling, they are actually far less likely to kill you than many other common things, and the chances of me getting behind the wheel and plowing through eight teenagers behind a fence is even less likely, so can we stop treating me like I’m some kind of monster?

Here are five things that are more likely to kill you than a terrorist attack, or my drunk driving:

Drowning in a bathtub

The statistics don’t lie on this one. The risk of being killed by terrorism compared to drowning in a bathtub is 1 in 800,000; That’s much more likely to happen than me being involved in another crash as well, since people take baths everyday. I don’t even drive anymore. I ride my bike, so you guys don’t have to treat me like I’m some kind of serial killer.

Airplane accident

I’m not talking about an airplane accident involving a terrorist. I’m talking about a random malfunction or a bird hitting the jet engine. You wouldn’t treat the bird like a pariah, would you? Those teenagers were drinking too, yet NO ONE brings that up. Why were they even behind that fence? I took that route specifically because no one should have been there.

Car accident

Of course, I’m talking about car crashes other than my 2012 crash. This wasn’t a great example.

Killed by police officer

That’s right! There are more instance of police officers killing innocent people than there are terrorist attacks on US soil. Our very own Officer Martel put thirteen year old Terry Willis in the hospital and you guys practically threw a party for him. I can’t even shop at the local grocery stores anymore without getting my tires slashed. I didn’t expect to come back to open arms, but everyone’s been violently aggressive..

Accidental suffocation/choking

Historically there are more choking or suffocation deaths than any deaths caused by me for drunk driving, so stop calling me the grim reaper.

As you can see, there’s no reason to live in fear, or cough “murderer” when I pass by. If anything I should be pitied. Two of those teenagers were my kids after all.


I hope you enjoyed! Let me know what you think in the comments.

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The Last Dragons [An Slightly Erotic, Bizarre Fiction about Dragons]

 

Prior to this, I’ve posted this on my official site, JoeCabello.com, and quickly realized (through the power of analytics) that many people were finding it by googling “dragon sex stories” or “dragons having sex with humans stories.” That’s, unfortunately, not what this story is about, though it does have some erotic elements for the sake of comedy.

Hopefully you enjoy it as it was intended, as it is not “sexy” enough to be considered successful erotic literature


 

Graydis was only one of three dragons left in a world once thickly populated with dragons. He was on his way to mate with the last female dragon, Kirdana, but he was dreading it. Kirdana was nice enough, especially considering the slim pickings, but having sex with dragon women was awful.

Male dragons had smooth, almost glass-like phalluses, however, female dragon vaginas were filled with sharp barbs. They were a vestigial trait from eons before to help dragon mate while in the air. Many dragons would slip out in mid-flight. Ironically, the barbs became so awful that the male dragons began avoiding mating at all costs. Most were happy just to pleasure themselves and call it a day. Graydis greatly preferred it.Continue reading “The Last Dragons [An Slightly Erotic, Bizarre Fiction about Dragons]”

A Poorly Worded Proposal from a Student Photographer to his Highschool

I wrote this a few weeks ago but hesitated posting until now since people can’t seem to get their shit together and not shoot up a movie theater or a school every week. Despite these atrocities, hopefully we can still find the humor in this.

 

A letter from a student in response to the second year in a row of no school photos due to budget cuts:


After being ignored by the school faculty for so long, I’ve decided to take things into my own hands and execute a school shooting. I’ve made my choice and this is something I’m going to do. Each and every one of our student body deserves to be seen for who they really were at this school. They deserve to be shot.

Last year there was no year book due to lack of funding. With things going the way they are now, there won’t be a yearbook this year either. Instead of a yearbook, we’ll have my legacy. I will shoot every student personally, as well as every faculty member. Then I’ll make sure everyone sees it.

I’ve been amassing equipment for months now, and I have more than enough to take care of all the students. They’ll all look like angels when I’m done with them.

I’ll shoot Jessica and David together, since they’re such a lovely couple. They deserve to be done together. There are others who will get “special treatment.” I can’t stop thinking about how I’m going to shoot certain people. I daydream all day about bursting shots during football practice, getting the team when they least expect it.

Please don’t try and stop me. I’ll do this one by one, little by little, in the shadows if I have to.

Go Spartans!


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Chapter 9 is here! And it’s funny?! You decide!

My last post got some good love, so as promised, here’s Chapter 9. If you haven’t read the introduction yet, read it here.

Lessons In Debauchery: The Topher Weyland Story is an adventure comedy novel about an aspiring TV personality who gets recruited by the CIA to be a distraction, but things quickly get out of hand when he forces himself into their mission and is thrust into saving the world.

I’ve included a little blurb about the events leading up to this chapter so you won’t be super confused, and you can read some of my thoughts on it at the bottom of the post.

Chapter 9
Fired

Topher has literally risked his life to get back to the studio to film an important episode of his show when his producer, Frank, summons him to his office looking furious.


“I knew you were a scumbag, but this is low!” he yelled.

Frank’s face was as red and swollen as his wife’s vagina after our lovemaking. That was my opener when I walked into the room, hoping to diffuse the situation. It didn’t work, but at least I had a funny anecdote to use when I told people about it later.

“You had sex? I thought you just kissed!”

I tried lie #1. “It’s not what you think. She must have had sex with a guy who looked like me. You know how small her brain can be sometimes.”

Lie #1 backfired, which it often does. Luckily I don’t always start off with my strongest lies.


Lesson:

Don’t waste your good lies early. You want to have a couple of great options to fall back on.


“Shit,” I said without missing a beat, “I meant, whoever told you this is obviously a big liar. I say we buckle down and find out who this person is, what they want, and why they’re trying to frame me-”

“I saw you! I have video of you two kissing!” he shouted, pointing at his office security camera.

“Can I have a copy?”

He whizzed a stapler at me, but my lightning reflexes kicked in and my hand blocked it, which broke my pinky instantly.

“Frank, just calm down. You have to understand. I didn’t know she was your wife. I thought she was your daughter.”

He whizzed his other stapler at me, but I was too busy wondering why he had two staplers to block it in time.

He hissed at me, “You’re fired. We’re having you replaced with Glen River Howard.”

Glen River Howard was a two-bit Youtube host at best, and the closest thing I had to a rival.

“Don’t be a stupid asshole, Frank. Glen River Howard doesn’t have half my talent, and I’ve seen him make eyes at your wife. You don’t want two guys screwing your wife, do you?”

He feverishly searched for something to throw at me, but there was only paper. “You may be hot shit right now, but I’m going to make sure everyone knows what you really are: a selfish, sociopathic prick.”

I needed to get him back on my side. “I hate to say this, but you’re sounding like a really big, dumb asshole right now.”

Judging by his heaving chest, it didn’t work. Luckily instead of finding another stapler to throw at me, he quickly composed himself and sat down.

“Get out.” His eyes darted down to his desk. He couldn’t even make eye contact with me. It was a good thing since I was checking my phone anyway.

Things were looking grim. Frank was completely ruining my big break. There had to be something I could do.

The chemicals in my brain started to churn, which meant I was getting a great idea.

“Who else knows, Frank?” I asked.

“I’m making the announcement after you leave,” he said, the wind out of his sails.

I stood there, weighing my options: Leave a shamed man, and work my way back up the entertainment ladder. Or…

He pretended to shuffle and sign some papers. “You’re still here? What part of leave didn’t you understand?”

I slowly walked to the door and locked it.

“What are you doing?-”

My wingtip smashed into his face with one of my patented front kicks, which I was hoping would knock him out instantly, but it didn’t so I had to keep kicking.

After about 46 kicks I stopped and he was out cold. With my shoes bloody and weathered, I had no choice but to take Frank’s. I know what this sounds like: I beat a man to near death after sleeping with his wife, and then stole his shoes. I guess while that is literally what happened, it makes me sound less heroic. I stuffed him in his closet and tied him up, but I made sure to leave a note:

note

I told myself that after I filmed this last episode of “Do You Have Your Keys?” and got a new dynamite hosting gig, I’d buy new teeth for Frank. After all, I didn’t want to hurt him. I was just doing what I had to do. It’s not like I was a monster.

I rifled through his desk for other things that I could steal when there was a knock on the door, and I saw the silhouettes of two suited men through the opaque glass.


 

Some of my thoughts:

A lot of this chapter is still pretty messy, focusing more on the comedy than brilliant prose. That’s something I want to work on as it develops. First and foremost with this book are the laughs though, and I think this chapter gives a good indication of Topher’s unapologetic nature.

So far I’m about 34,000 words in with an aim of about 40-45k words total. The chapters are meant to be small, around the length of the chapter above to make it a nice, tight read.

I can’t wait to get done with the full first draft and appreciate any feedback or if you are aching to read some more, even if its very rough still.

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Chapter 9 of my book? Who’s interested?

Hello!

I recently released the introduction chapter of my book, Lessons in Debauchery: The Topher Weyland Story. Read it here. Let me know what you think in the comments, please, but I bet it doesn’t give you much sense of the story and how it plays out, does it?

Well, I have a solution for that! I have Chapter 9 ready to roll out if there is enough interest in it.

I know what you’re thinking:

Chapter 9? Isn’t that like 9 chapters into the book? Start with, I don’t know, Chapter 1?

That’s actually a really good idea, but Chapter 9 is the only really polished chapter (although I’m sure they will all get heavily edited by the time it’s official “done.” Either that or burned in a insurance fraud house fire). It’s exceptionally funny, if I’m allowing myself to toot my own horn, and I’d love some feedback.

If this post gets enough likes or comments I’ll share it ASAP!

 

Ways to Know Your Office is a Toxic Work Environment

Do you know if you’re working in a toxic work environment?

Americans spend roughly 1700 hours a year in the workplace. That’s a lot of time to be spending in a place that could be emotionally and physically damaging.

Here are some ways you can tell if you’re in a toxic work environment:

-There’s a cloud of gas in or around the building.

-You suffer from constant hallucinations.

-You work for an evil organization, or an organization that stops evil organizations. (Evil organizations often store toxic gas and have apathetic employees. Let’s be honest, evil organizations don’t employ the best and brightest, so toxic gas accidents are fairly frequent. If you work for an organization that stops evil organizations, you are most likely constantly attacked by toxic gas.)

-You’re encouraged to wear a hazmat suit.

-There’s a guy named Nuclear Dave who gives a daily speech, referring to you as his “toxic warriors” and how you will “topple the world powers.”

-You’ve grown extra appendages since working there.

-There’s a company funeral every other day.

-Your boss is a dick.

About the Clown I Hired for John’s Birthday

I’ve been busy doing nothing ever since recovering from my surgery, but I do have some exciting things developing, including a book announcement very soon. I appreciate any encouragement, and please subscribe to get more info on the book as it comes out.

Enjoy.


 

First I want to address that, no, the clown I hired was not an actual clown. I admit that, and I am sorry, but we have to look at the good here.

Was he a clown? No.

Did he do funny tricks, songs or dances, as was expected? No.

Did he hurt anyone? Yes, but it wasn’t anyone in our family, so we’ll count it as a no.

Was he talented at what he did bring to the table? Absolutely.

I agree that he was absolutely not dressed appropriately for the party. He was not wearing clown pants, or pants at all, and what looked like a blonde clown wig from afar was actually a live bee hive, but was that not a sight to behold?

I remember the neighborhood kid, Jackson, yelling, “He’s got a beehive on his head!” He was so excited. Sure, one, if not many of the bees stung him, and his excitement could have been mistaken for fear due to his severe bee allergy, but that energy was infectious. Soon after he started yelling, everyone else was too.

I truly believe that more people had a good time than a bad time, or at least that there were more people not stung than there were stung, and that’s saying something considering the amount of bees in the hive. I also think you fail to see that our clown in question was not stung once. I for one, thought that was pretty impressive, and worthy of the $200.

I’ve heard the things you say about me. I’m the screw-up uncle, I’m a loose cannon, I owe you $5,000 etc. I know that you think I forgot to book an actual clown, and instead found a homeless man off the street and paid him money to pretend he was a clown, while also urging him to wear the bee hive on his head (even more amazing that he wasn’t stung), but I assure you that I booked him way in advance, so I was just as upset as you were about the whole fiasco.

I hate to say it, but I fear a bit of racism is what fueled your anger towards the man I hired. We both know he was Italian (or at least looked and smelled Italian) and that’s what really bothered you, not that he caused the neighborhood kid Jackson to be stung over 80 times, tried to kiss your wife, and yelled obscenities at all the kids.

Let’s agree to split the blame on this one 70(you)/30(me) and call the party a success. Anyways, I’m ready to accept your apology at any time. Maybe you could do it when you pay your share of the clown money and drive me to Jackson’s funeral.

P.S. I need a ride to Jackson’s funeral.


 

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Concerns Over Your Music Player’s New User Agreement

Dear Alpha Computers support,

I’ve been using MusicSource to play and buy music for years, and I really love it. I especially appreciate the regular updates and new features, like your recent June 2nd release. For some reason, before I downloaded the new version, I decided to glance over the new user agreement, something I rarely do before agreeing to those things. Although I’m excited for the new Instant Mash-up feature and enhanced interface, some parts of the agreement stuck out as strange to me, so I’ve forgone updating until I could clear up some parts of it. Like the following:

XIIa. Your blood is ours.

Firstly, I’m not exactly sure what that means. Secondly, it doesn’t sound good. So, here’s a few questions:

Do you plan on taking my blood? Would you be taking it all at once, or would you take a little at a time? If I get a blood transfusion does that blood count as yours? If I have a jar of blood that I’ve purchased, will that blood also constitute as yours? Are we talking specifically to phlebotomy, or does “blood” equate to “kin?”

Aside from the blood aspect, there was also this part of the agreement:

XXXIII: You won’t see the eyes of the demon, until he comes calling.

This doesn’t seem like something I can control, so I’m hesitant to agree to it. I feel like that’s more in the hands of the “demon” whomever that is. Which raises a good question, who is this demon? Does this have something to do with the blood thing?

Then, of course, there was this section:

XL: You will be a sacrifice to the demon Omutep.

This one definitely makes sense of the preceding two, but I just wanted to make sure no words were getting minced here. Let me know if i have this right: Omutep will be coming to take my blood, which will be legally yours, and I won’t see his eyes until he comes calling, something I’m sure Omutep will be arranging himself. Is that about right?

If so, I’m on board and ready to start making some mash-ups, but if it comes with some fucking bullshit U2 album or something I’ll be pissed.


Twitter @joecabell0

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Superheroes & Safe words – Other Articles This Week

Here are some articles I wrote on other sites this week! Let me know what you think!

Opinion

superhero

How to Make a Great Superhero Movie

Humor

safewr

I Think Our Safe Word is Too Long


Twitter @joecabell0

facebook.com/joecabellowriter

 

My Sling

About two weeks ago I got into an ATV accident and broke my shoulder (An ATV is a four wheeled, small vehicle people ride to guarantee hurting themselves). I’ve since had to wear a sling and it’s changed my life for the better.

Suddenly I’m very popular. Like how people who had Segways when they first came out were popular, even though that’s not the case anymore (Segway is a two wheeled vehicle people ride to guarantee ridicule). Everyone wants to talk to me and ask me whats’ going on. Even strangers. Especially strangers, actually.

The other day a really cool looking guy in a wife-beater and red pajama pants stumbled up to me on the street asking, “when did that happen?” as if we’d known each other forever, or at all. It almost made the constant pain worth it.

Talking about it can get pretty exhausting, but I’m getting pretty good at responding. I feel the way actors must when they go on a press junket. At first they’re really self-conscious and nervous about their answers, but then they get so sick of answering the same questions over and over so they start coming up with really confident, creative answers.

It’s not that I’m lying to anyone about what happened. I’ve just been trying out different inflections or attitudes. Like a really weathered, “been here before” tone, like a soldier shot for the hundredth time (in total, not in a row. For obvious reasons). That one is my favorite.

For some people I play up the sadness and horror, and for others I’ve even been known to try a really jovial way. Like how Santa might act if he broke his shoulder.

I’ve enjoyed it so much that I’ve even started to wear my more complex, sleeping sling out in public, even though I don’t even need it anymore. It’s five pieces and makes the injury look 10x worse. To be honest, I don’t even need to wear the normal sling anymore. I wear it more to ward off any hard pats on the shoulder, or to avoid getting beat up. I’m not 100% sure on the psychology of people who beat people up, but I assume that there’s some kind of code to leave people with slings alone. There’s no sport to it.

I think a lot of it has to do with the way I look. I mean, people walk around with slings and injuries all the time and don’t get the attention I get (I’m assuming). I even avoid people with injuries. They just don’t feel safe to be around.

Here’s my theory: People will treat a guy wearing a sling totally differently if he’s wearing a suit opposed to wearing a Monster Energy Drink shirt. Not that I wear a suit all the time, or at all, but my style leans more on the side of suit than it does Monster Energy Drink shirt. I never had the nerve to buy one. Seems like something you should get for free.

Being a clean-cut, well dressed man, people must assume I was attacked, or a victim of some unfortunate accident. As if it somehow wasn’t my fault that I ran an ATV into a tree. I guess the lesson is, if you comb your hair to the side like a British boy, and wear button-up shirts (not button-down shirts. That’s a different thing), you’re admonished of all guilt when it comes to personal injury.

Once I’m fully healed, I can see myself continuing to wear the sling every once and a while. Maybe one day I’ll even get so good at wearing my sling that I’ll make up a more interesting story on how it happened, or wear a Monster energy drink shirt. It couldn’t hurt. Not anymore than running an ATV into a tree.