Olmec, the Legend of the Hidden Temple, Seeks 2012 Presidential Bid

Mr. Olmec is staging his campaign on saving existence.

Legend of the Hidden Temple  Seeks Presidency

Game show host launches campaign for chief executive position

One time game show host, Mr. Olmec, from Nickelodeon's “Legends of the Hidden Temple,” has announced he will actively run for the American presidency in the 2012 election.

“When I look at those other candidates, I see rulers with great potential, but I also see rulers who will not get us past December 21^st when the apocalypse occurs,” says the big giant head. “Does America really want a ruler who will only lead for seven weeks, when Olmec can rule for all eternity? Choose them, and it is apocalypse now.”

The December 21, 2012 phenomenon is based upon Mayan long count calendar ending at that date. Mr. Olmec claims that as a true blood Mayan god himself, only he has the ability to prevent the damnation of the entire planet.

Mr. Olmec's Mayan lineage places him squarely inside the good graces of the Mayan people, and his ability to commune with other Mayan spirits will transform them from evil into benevolent. And what sort of benevolent spirits have ever brought about the end of all life as we know it?

But this relationship raises many questions about the legitimacy of his campaign. With it being a modern day election, people might ask to see Mr. Olmec's birth certificate. However, Mr. Olmec cut this line of questioning before it could even be asked.

“Yes, I was born in Tenochtitlan, Mexico, I have never claimed otherwise,” says the former game show icon. “But upon my birth in 1035, there was no United States to call a home, much like Presidents Washington, Adams and Jefferson, among many others. Should we invalidate their presidencies because they were born British? Goodbye Monroe Doctrine, you're apparently invalid.”

Ever since returning Benjamin Franklin's electrified key in a season 2 episode of his show, Mr. Olmec has been a true blue American. No other candidate has indebted itself to this country as much as Mr. Olmec. From seeking out Harriet Tubman's lost walking stick to recollaring Davy Crockett, Mr. Olmec and the heart of Americana go hand in hand.

Mr. Olmec realizes the kids who fell in lovewith his Shrine of
the Silver Monkey-filled gameshow are not of voting age.

“I might not have been born in the United States, but that doesn't change my love of this country,” said Mr. Olmec.

In addition, Mr. Olmec supports repealing any charter that supports the Department of Health.

“I know where Ponce De Leon kept his Fountain of Youth. With eternal youth, who needs health?” the stone aperture questioned.

To support the campaign, Mr. Olmec has launched a Twitter handle at @Olmec4USA. The big giant head proclaims if anyone has questions about his platform beyond saving all humanity, he's more than open to talking about his radical initiatives through this social media platform.

When asked how the possible revival of “Legends of the Hidden Temple,” would affect his ability to lead this country, Mr. Olmec bluntly replied that presidents not only can moonlight, they're expected to do so. He then cited how President Barack Obama appeared on an episode of “Mythbusters” and President Bill Clinton contributed numerous saxophone solos to All-4-One's self-titled debut album.

“I can host a game show, and I can lead the country. They are not mutually exclusive.”

Indeed they aren't mutually exclusive, but what is, is choosing one of the other guys while planning to do something in 2013. It just won't happen without Mr. Olmec firmly in charge at the White House.

I Had the Mostest Fun on my Summer Vacation

Unless you live in one of those Communist oligarchies that foolishly starts school before Labor Day, it's almost time to go back to school. 

For kids aged second to sixth grade, they're going to need to endure a dread September ritual, the horrendous "Name something fun you did over the summer" question. Since all kids do nowadays is play Skylanders, they have no way to answer this question. Even if they did manage to grab all of the purple chompies, nobody cares in the slightest.

But don't worry, I realize you're young and it probably seems like I'm talking down to you, and you want to go cry into your Cynder footie pajamas. Don't do that, because I'm actually here to help! I'll supply you with such a great Summer activity story that all your chums will think you're super nifty, and eight out of 10 girls will seriously want to hold your hand.

Before I can do that, I need to lay down a couple of ground rules for how this storytelling procedure will play out. I don't do this just because I have a degree in writing stuff good and you probably still eat stuff... that shouldn't... be eaten (mushrooms), but because I speak from experience of the time where I just summarized an entire season of Disney Channel’s “Even Stevens” as my summer activity. That became especially strange when I got to the season 3 episode 17 episode “Snow Job.” 

But I digress.

To create a rocking story, make sure you never ever use the phrase "bear" when telling it. If that happens, people automatically know you're trying to catch them in a tangled web of lies. I'm also not the biggest fan of using any homonyms of that word as well. No “bare,” no “care bear stare,” nothing.

If you want to frame your story around a national tragedy, feel free. I highly recommend using Michael Phelps not medaling in the 400M Individual Medley as a great hook. You can even use the phrase “His failures were akin to him reaching into my mother’s womb and sucker punching fetus me.” That will earn you points for being so poetic.

Never use limericks, they’re the lamest of all poetic devices, because to see if they’re actually true to form, you have to stand in front of the room and clap out the rhythm. And that’s not an image anyone wants to see.

Also, feel free to fill in missing plot details with plot summaries stolen from "Breaking Bad." After every reference you make to that Emmy-award-winning series, make sure to then use the line "It was the mostest fun I ever had."

How I Spent My Summer Vacation--by having
the mostest fun ever!

Now that we have that fairly exhaustive list out of the way, here's the winning story you must tell.

"Over the Summer, I did things... with people... and occasionally without."

Hmmmm, that seems to be running a tad short... and it seems to imply a totally dirty thing, which third graders will definitely pick up on and giggle mercilessly in your general direction. Everyone knows the delighted third graders’ shrieks are like kryptonite to anyone, so we’ll probably want to avoid that tack.

Oh screw it, just go with the following paragraph.

And then Mr. White and I made a fresh batch of blue meth, choked out a bear with our bare hands, blew up our biggest rival, made a really funny haiku and jumped in a pool while wearing all our clothes. Unfortunately two time Olympic medal loser Michael Phelps was there. But who would have guessed that unicorn would sweep in and carry us all across the New Mexican outback? It was the mostest fun I ever had.

Beaker Bocker Beaks Sock-in-a-Sock in Battle

It's sleepover time, and that can only mean one thing. No, not that, get your mind out of the gutter. I'll rephrase, it's sleepover time for a bunch of nine-year-olds, and that can only mean one thing. Beaker Bocker fights.

Again, get your mind out of the gutter, I said they were nine! What I'm referring to is taking your sock and placing it in another sock to make a form of crude weaponry, generally used to inflict mortal wounds upon fellow sleeper overers.

Why are they called Beaker Bockers? I actually have no idea. I just know that's what my brothers and I called them growing up. It's like the mountain lion of sleepover weaponry. You wanna call it a Beaker Bocker, feel free! Sock in a sock? I don't see why not. For a brief while, I even called my Beaker Bocker weaponry “Awesome Boom Boom Sauce,” and that sauce instilled much fear in the hearts of my competitors.

Although that didn't actually happen, I've only ever referred to my Beaker Bockers as Beaker Bockers. Having heard someone refer to it as a sock-in-a-sock while in my early 20s, I was completely in shock. Something I had known all my life was something completely counter to something someone else had “known all their lives.”

Only a Beaker Sock Sock Bocker fight would solve this life-threatening threat. But before I could engage in this battle, I must ask the question, why would nine-year-olds resort to this form of weaponry when they had easy access to actual weapons like pillows or that MAC-10 that Billy's dad keeps unlocked a way in a thoroughly pointless gun safe.

Then I realized we must keep in mind, these kids are nine, and no parent in their right mind would let children of that age use a pillow, it will just get sucked into the ickiness of a bed wetting episode from which there's no escape.

But nine-year-olds do have access to socks. And what's a sock but one step away from being a sock in a sock?

Because of this ease of creation, I have decided to bring back Beaker Bockers as a full-on-27-year-old adult in a sort of Hunger Games-esque fashion. Let me warn everyone though, once the word on Beaker Bockers gets out, everyone will be bocking. Society as we know it will collapse as everyone succumbs to cotton-inflicted injuries. You can survive this though with general knowledge of sock-in-a-sock philosophy.

Please note how my Beaker Bocker instills
fear in my cat.

For survival, always carry a pre-made Beaker Bocker with you. I don't care if this necessitates going to the store and purchasing a whole package of socks to make your weaponry. If it's pre-made, you have no need to fear. Most Beaker Bockerers will just use the socks they have on, and although it's a simple step, placing the sock inside of another sock is an action that can take upwards of 39 seconds, depending on how many knots they tied in their shoes. That's time in which they might be brought to death at the hand of your pre-made sock weaponry.

Some might say this runs counter to the philosophy of placing socks in a sock, but to those people, I say they've obviously never been nine years old, and thus they deserve a cotton coated death.

I realize with this whole endeavor I'm ushering in a dystopian future. And I'm actually okay with that, because if anybody does take issue with the whole ordeal, I've got a sock serendipitously placed within another sock. Who wants some?

Score one for the Beaker Bocker nomenclature group, my sock placed within a sock has won out. My Beaker Bocker wins.

I Would Help You Find Something, If I Worked Here

“Can I set this here?”

“... I don't see why not.” I respond as a random person starts unloading a cart of random crap onto a counter. “You do realize, I don't work here, right?”

And so ends my journey to Value Village.

You'll note my cat has on a red shirt and a name
tag with her name on it. Odds are, she works at Target.

It seems like ever since I started working at Target nearly four years ago that everyone assumes I am some omnipotent retail deity who works in all, knows in all. Recently, I've been asked to help people in Best Buy, Old Navy, the library, the library (twice), Portugal and a 9-year-old girls dream about Justin Bieber (no, I do not have an extra backstage pass, they're ALL MINE!). I have worked in none of these place, except for that part about Portugal, but alas I failed at that because Eu não falo Português.

Making the Value Village questioning even weirder is I do not look like an employee there. For those that don't know, Value Village exists in some sort of weird middleground. It's not a Goodwill store, and it claims to not be a for-profit store, it's just some store. One that kind of exists. As a result, there isn't really a dress code for the employees. And as a result of that, someone who's wearing khakis probably doesn't work there. And I was wearing khakis, because I was on my way to actual work.

Yes, I do work in a retail store, but that doesn't mean I work in every single retail store/public municipality in existence. One thing this background does let me do is intuitively know where I need to go without having to bother the employees. I'd much rather listen to my MP3 player than talk with someone who's being paid to be there. Oh yeah, I forgot to mention, in all of these run-ins, I'm almost always listening to music, earbuds firmly in the canal. Why these questioners think a store would allow that, I have no idea.

Since I'm showing this indifference to the employees and I seem to have my head on straight, people must automatically assume I'm working there. Even if I'm dressed like a hobo. An upscale hobo, but a hobo nonetheless.

Note the lack of uniform on my other cat. Odds are he
doesn't work at Target. Jury is still out on if he works for
Captain Crunch.

I suppose part of the problem lies with me. The first time I was at an IKEA, not only was I incredibly lost in the labyrinthine maze of the store, I felt a bizarre desire to go up and help people at random. I figured I was confused, other people must be confused, and my retail background would let me know. But they actually wouldn't IKEA is a maze and a fortress from which there is no escape. If I had given into my whims and they asked me where the spatulas that are also meatballs were located, I wouldn't have had any clue. Hell, the IKEA workers probably wouldn't have known either. That is, if that person in the black pants and yellow shirts actually works there.

When I see people walking around my Target wearing red and khaki, a little song plays in my head. It goes like this “Bad choice of clothing / Bad choice of clothing.” I also synchronize a clap with the lyrics. Many people won't ask actual employees questions, but they'll zero in on these bad accessorizers to ask something this red-and-khaki-er wouldn't know.

Here's a surefire way to tell if a person actually does work at the store where you're shopping. They'll be wearing the store uniform, a nametag, they might have equipment, they're offering to help and odds are they're pilfering out large amounts of rutabagas in their pants pocket. At least that's what the guy I asked at Value Village claimed.

Ramsay, I Don't Need Your Hotel Hell, I've Lived It

I don't need to watch tonight's premiere of Gordon Ramsay's “Hotel Hell.”

Sure, with this attitude, I'll probably miss him calling someone a “donkey” or some other hotel related insult (“Semen Bed?”). But it's really unnecessary for me to watch. I don't need to see this, because I've already lived through Hotel Hell.

Recently, my girlfriend and I stayed on an island near the Canadian border called San Juan Island. While there, we decided it would be best to stay at the cheapest hotel on the entire island, The Orca Inn.

And that is where I completely overlap with Hotel Hell. I can guarantee you that just about every single hotel featured on the show will be the cheapest one in the area. I'm not even including like a Motel 6 in that equation, because even that is more expensive than what I endured.

When we checked in, the adequately friendly clerk was on the phone telling a former patron that even though they left early, they were still in the room for a while and therefore they were being charged for it. On the surface I thought this was just a situation where they stayed past check out time. In hindsight I now realize they checked in, saw the room and immediately left. But since they probably stepped in, the hotel management deemed it occupation and set the meter running.

I'm also assuming that there was an hourly meter, because well, this is a Hotel Hell sort of establishment like that.

When I first walked in the room, the only response I could muster was “Oh my.” The door opened and I looked into literally the smallest room I had ever seen. It did have a full size bed in it, but that compromised the majority of the room. My 5'11” frame could nearly reach from one end of the room to the other.

Welcome to, welcome to hotel... HELL!!!!!

Exploring my cell, errr... room.

Thoughts immediately went to wondering if this place is mainly used by prostitutes, but I really didn't know how active the prostitution community was on the island. What I did know was I needed to take drastic measures if I planned on getting through the night.

I couldn't merely set fire to everything or go around in a “The Shining”-esque fashion, because that would be too expected of me. I just let out a brief sob and got out of there. At this point we cursed ourselves for not bringing our own sheets, blanket, bed and entire hotel room.

Welcome to, welcome to hotel... HELL!!!!!

Lumpy bed, limited internet connection (as in you could only access it if you stood in the smoking area), hard pillow, werewolves, this place had it all. Even a microwave. And I suppose that, combined with its relatively cheap price would qualify it as a two star establishment. This kind of Hotel Hell would cause even Dante to not make it through the second circle. But I still knew where I was.

Welcome to, welcome to hotel... HELL!!!!!

The one bit of solace I could take from the whole experience is that although it was totally a Bates Motel sort of setup, I knew we couldn't be murdered to death in the shower, because there just wasn't enough room for that to happen. The shower was one of those submarine showers that could only fit one person and a bucketful of STDs. Just try and Norman Bates me in there, it's not going to happen.

Welcome to, welcome to hotel... HELL!!!!!

So Gordon Ramsay, I stayed in that room. I stayed in that Hotel Hell. If you encounter anything like what I went through, you are guaranteed to not make it through to your next FOX series.

The Cover Letters that Didn't Work Part 12: Getting Social with Myself

As three of you might have guessed, when I wrote my post about cover letters last week, I included a part one in the title. That means there's most likely going to be a part two.

But that's just wrong, I've decided to completely skip convention and just launch into part 12. Trust me, it's for the best, as it glosses over many dark and disturbing cover letters that mainly talked about the decline of the “Alvin and the Chipmunks” series of films.

They were dark.

But cover letter 12 came with this video. It actually got me an interview, and even got me no job! A very multi-faceted and accomplished video it is. Even better, it was a very multi-Kevined video!

Without further ado, here's that renowned vid.

Oh, and as a bit of ado, I do know the sound is off in bits. I edited it in Windows Movie Maker, which as the name implies is actually not good at all at making movies. I've also redacted the name of the company, because, why not?

The Cover Letters that Didn't Work Part 1: The Unsafe Ad

I recently secured myself one of those job things. For people who don't remember any pre-Great Recession times, a job used to be when you'd do work an people would give you moneys or kittens in exchange.

In Recession times, this became much harder to do. And it's during this time that I wrote several hundred cover letters. They ranged from straight businessy, to the one... to the one you're about to read in its entirety.

Please note, the following cover letter did not get me a job. In fact, it would probably only be capable of doing that in the fields of advertising or Men Without Hats roadie-ing. And there's already too much overlap between them anyway.

It did, however, let me breakdown in a very Don Hertzfeldt-ian fashion that helped me write the letters that got me positive notice.

Oh, and at this point, you might want to cue up Men Without Hats' “The Safety Dance.”

Subject: The Safety Copywriter

We can ad if we want to

We can blow your client's mind
'Cause if I write creative copy and develop brand,
Well, we're in for a good time.

Say, we can ad where we want to
A place with expanded mind
And we can ad like we come from out of this world
Leave the real one far behind

They can see!

My copy can go where you want to
Writing is fun and so am I
And I can impress real neat with copy to a beat
And surprise you with my agency vibe

Say, we can wow the client if we want to
If we don't nobody will
And you can act real true and be totally moved
And I can write like a Shake-a-speare

And say! We can ad, we can ad
Everything will reach our goal
We can ad, we can ad
We're doing it from pole to pole

I can ad, I can ad
Everybody look at my resume
We can ad, we can ad
You should really take the chance

Safe to ad
Oh well it's safe to ad
Yes it's safe to ad

We can work if you want to
We've got all your thoughts and mine
As long as we can dream it, never going to lose it
Everything will work out right

I say, we can ad if we want to
We can work it anytime
'Cause I work at Target, and if I need the time off
They surely won't decline

I say, we can ad, we can ad
Everything's under control
We can ad, we can ad
I'm doing it for $15 per hour

You can contact me, you can contact me
Everybody look at my resume
You can contact me, you can contact me
You really should take the chance

Well it's safe to ad
Yes it's safe to ad
Well it's safe to ad
Well it's safe to ad
Yes it's safe to ad
Well it's safe to ad
Well it's safe to ad

It's a Safety Ad
Well it's a Safety Ad
Oh it's a Safety Ad
Oh it's a Safety Ad
Well it's a Safety Ad

-With respect to those brave men who foolishly do not have hats,
Kevin Nelson