Solipsist bashing has become all the rage with professional philosophers. They find someone who espouses solipsism, then beat him or her senseless, taunting the poor solipsist by shouting, “stop hitting yourself! stop hitting yourself!”

Femtocuddling: cuddling for the briefest possible amount of time. Originally done by young males as the minimal post-coital cuddle, now has become an event in itself, with teens attempting, sometimes through technological means, to cuddle so briefly that they achieve Planck-state affection.

Roof Tarring: in parts of the Pacific Northwest, teens discovered that the fumes from roofing tar produced a mildly intoxicated state. They then began “free-tarring,” i.e. illegally trespassing on the property of homeowners with poorly weather-proofed roofs, and illicitly tarring these roofs so as to catch the fumes (sometimes called “doing a roofie.”)

Politicizing Infants: big amongst teen-aged supporters of tariffs on manufactured goods, this involves attempting to sway the opinions of infants by offering them greater job security and mother’s milk. You’ll occasionally see infants wearing “Made In The USA” onesies, and these are usually victims of the politically mis-guided teenagers.

Phone-poling: the act of climbing up a telephone pole while dressed as an official telephone company technician. The teens then wave joyously to passersby and shout Anglicisms like “hullo, guv’nor!” or “pip! pip! cheerio!” The purpose of this activity is still unknown.

The Absolutely True Memoir of My Special Feelings And Pain

Everything herein contains 100% emotional truth, and is told based on my memories of all the really terrible things through which I have lived.

However, I have far too much respect for the people who did awful, awful things to me, and for myself, who also did terrible and unjustified things to many others, to reveal who we are (except for me.) So I changed all the names, but then it just seemed obvious that saying something like, “My mother, Kim ‘Tootie’ Fields, threw me down the stairs,” would still implicate my real mother, especially after I mentioned that everything that I wrote was real and true except for the names.

So I changed other things as well: in each instance where I relate some of the horrible things I did or suffered, I looked at the sentences on the page (and what is a page, but a tray full of sentences?) and I changed, in each sentence, the noun, verb, and any ancillary terms in the predicate. But most importantly, the feeling are not changed. They remain the same. Emotionally, this is so totally true that it’s hard to write, and would be harder if it were not just emotionally true, but also factually true.

So for example, when I write “A gang of 8th graders chased me down a dark alley, shredded my schoolbooks, and then made me recite the pledge of allegiance,” I’m probably really talking about the time I cut the school bully’s face with a safety razor and laughed while he bled. But also, and note: in that last sentence, where I talk about cutting the school bully’s face? That didn’t happen. I changed that too. But it refers to a real event, which I cannot reveal, due to my ethics. But it’s a real event that feels just like what it would feel like to either be cut by someone who laughs at you, or to cut someone and then laugh in their face.

So when you’re reading this book, and you think, “that couldn’t have really happened,” you’re not wrong, exactly. I mean, it didn’t happen, but in a sense, it did happen, and in that sense, it could have happened. It just didn’t. Or at least, not in this way. But in some other way, that’s so much the same that it’s like being hugged by a strange man who sees you crying in a mall, it did happen. And it happened again and again and again, until I wrote it down and told it to the world so I could be free from the pain and you, the world, could have it.

UPDATE! Our Earth environment has defeated the snowbot invaders!

A friend of Spoonbot noted the following: “Snowbot invaders do even less pre-invasion research than the aliens from Signs.” Spoonbot is proud to have such perspicacious friends.

At the beginning of time, there was herring and crisp bread enough for all, and people shared the bounty.

Then one day Lars and Ingmar were walking in the fields of paradise, and Lars said, “It is wrong that all people should enjoy herring when some are tall and blonde and brooding, and others are joyful brunettes who do not go to saunas. Let us, who are possessed of an existential cinema, gather the herring to ourselves, that we may eat it after our massages.”

And so Lars and Ingmar went to all the peoples of the world, and they said to them, “Dark and short people: lend us your herring, and in a few days we will return it to you with a mustard sauce, or perhaps pickled in sweet wine.” And the people thought this was a good idea, so they brought the herring to Lars and Ingmar, and they waited.

But they waited and waited! For Lars and Ingmar did not return, but rather sat upon their low-cost, home-assembled furniture, and laughed. And to this day one says “like a thieving Swede,” whenever someone uses herring which is not properly his own.

How many Irishmen does it take to screw in a lightbulb?
None. The Irish shine with a literary and spiritual brilliance so bright they have no need of earthly illumination.

What do you call an Irish terrorist?
No one knows, since no Irishman would commit a cowardly and vile act like terrorism. The Irish, though, will not back down from the fight for freedom, no matter where that fight takes them. They’re just that brave and virtuous.

Two Irishmen walk into a bar. After consuming a reasonable amount of alcohol, in line with that shown to increase longevity and arterial health, they clap each other warmly on the shoulder and return home to their wives, who, like all Irish woman, are not only beautiful, but also wise and good.

What’s an Irish seven course meal?
It could be anything, because the Irish have adopted the culinary traditions of myriad cultures. But at its finest, it will include a perfectly boiled potato, the likes of which are unknown outside the gleaming shores of Eire.

Act I
Hamlet: I’m bummed.
Horatio: Dude.

Act II
Ghost: Kill Claudius.
Hamlet: Umm…

Act III
Ophelia: I love you!
Hamlet: Whatever.

Act IV
Ghost: Could you, like, freaking kill Claudius now?
Hamlet: Stabby stabby!
Polonius: Ow!

Act V
Hamlet: Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are dead. Also, Laertes is dead, and Gertrude is dead, and Claudius is dead, and, also, I am dead.
Fortinbras: Awesome.

The end.

Q: What time is it?
A: It’s a little before 11. 11ish, basically.

Q: If you’re not doing anything tomorrow, would you want to, umm, like, go to a movie or something?
A: O, I totally, no, I, I have this, this thing, so, uh, no.

Q: Are you ok?
A: Yes! Why do you keep asking me that? Ferchrissakes! I’m fine, ok? OK?

Q: What’s up?
A: Not much. You?

Q: Did you see that!?
A: Yes! Omigod! What the fuck was that?!

Q: What’s the name of that film/person/event that I can’t currently remember? The one with the salient element?
A: Escape to Witch Mountain/Kim “Tootie” Fields/The Tunguska Event

To: Eli Sunday

In re: Your milkshake.

I drink it. I drink it up.

Sincerely,
Daniel Plainview

Spoonbot has been accused of being irrelevant in that it focuses on larger philosophical questions and not the specific problems that haunt modern life: abortion (we’re in favor as long as the fetus consents), gay marriage (to those opposed we ask: in what way is marriage not gay?), and of course gun control. Here we present the two sides of the gun control debate; choose for yourselves!

Anti Gun
Guns are just inherently evil, in the same way that cartoon cats and Donald Trump are evil. Also, guns kill people. Well, people help, but really the guns are whispering to them “kill…it’ll be fun, and then we can have ice cream!” and who can resist that? Plus, the Second Amendment which says that blah blah blah the right to bear arms (do you know that zany bumper sticker that says “the right to arm bears”? that’s hilarious…) really only applies to militias, unless you’re forming a militia, then it’s just stupid and ignore it, ok? Finally, won’t someone think about the children? Excuse me, I have to report back to my Communist masters now.

Pro Gun
Not only do we have the right to own fully automatic weapons and futuristic death rays, we have the right to drive on the sidewalk and litter and eat lots of cholesterol, and you faggy do-gooders can’t stop us because God essentially said “hey, get some shotguns and kill anyone who’s on your property!” (Deuteronomy 23:1, roughly translated). Also, after a hard day sending all our jobs overseas to child slave labor camps in Cambodia or Paris or some shit, who doesn’t need to unwind by blowing up Pepsi cans with an AK-47 and some C-4 plastic explosive? Really, who?