I recommend reading the McSweeney’s article from the screenshot above. It is pretty damn funny. Whether you read it before uninstalling Comic Sans (and its almost equally obnoxious font stack successor Marker Felt¹) or afterward is up to you.

Uninstall Comic Sans on your computer, and on any others you get your hands on. Especially your office manager’s computer. I say that because in my experience, office managers are often known to post signs printed in Comic Sans. The reason for this is that such signs are most often either 1) announcements of upcoming events which they want to portray as sources of fun, or 2) admonishing you about the sorts of things your mother used to when you were a kid, like cleaning up after yourself in the break room, copy room, and/or bathroom, and attempting to dilute the nag factor by using a “cheerful” typeface. I hardly need point out that in either case, Comic Sans has the exact opposite effect than the one sought by the woefully misguided office manager.

Don’t stall — uninstall! Here’s how.

C:\Windows\Fonts

Last week Page Six stoked a rumor that Howard Stern is a possible candidate to replace the departing Simon Cowell on next season’s American Idol. Today the shock jock addressed the reports on his satellite radio show, admitting the job wouldn’t be out of the question. “There’s not a better job on the planet than judging a fucking karaoke contest,” Stern said.

…Idol producers are rumored to be considering offering Stern a contract that mirrors his five-year, $500 million deal with Sirius XM, but considering Paula Abdul and Idol split ways over a few million and Cowell will only make a reported $50 million per season to executive produce and judge on The X Factor, that figure seems a little excessive.

…“If I do say so myself, I can’t imagine anyone else but me replacing [Cowell],” Stern said. “I mean, how else are they going to make that show work? Who knows how to broadcast and who knows how to be interesting? And who’s not afraid to speak their mind?”

ME.

Howard Stern? Please. For one thing, the guy has a face for radio. Look, I don’t claim to be Brad Pitt or anything, but I think I can fairly say I’m pleasant-looking — at least compared to Howard Stern (which is hardly bragging; it’s kind of like being taller than Danny DeVito). American Idol is network television. What happens when Howard finds out he can’t make the girls take off their tops if they want to go through to the next round? He’ll lose interest before week two.

So he can be loud and obnoxious—big fucking deal. For that kind of money, I will judge the shit out of those kids. I will be mean enough to make Paula Abdul cry off her permanent eye-liner even though she won’t be there. Plus, I know a hell of a lot more about singing and musicianship than Howard Stern. And Howard doesn’t need the job! He can go right on saying “fuck” on satellite radio, get paid more hundreds of millions than he already has, and his listeners will love it. To hire me, on the other hand, would effectively strike a blow against the recession.

To top it off, I can walk to the Kodak Theater from where I live. That’s right, FOX—you won’t even have to validate my parking. So what are you waiting for? I am the new Simon. Or rather, Simon is the old me. Let’s do this thing.

“He’s not in at the moment,” I replied truthfully, although if he had been here I would have said the same thing. “Could I take your information and have him return the call?”

“Yes, please,” she answered. “My name is Jingle, that’s spelled J-I-N-G-L-E.”

I stifled the impulse to say, “Get the fuck outta here, it is NOT!” Mr. Professional. Instead, I let her give the rest of the info and think I was writing it down. She wasn’t calling from an overseas call center, but from a company I’d heard of in New York City. I ended the call and sat back to ponder.

My first several thoughts were probably what you’d expect: what kind of sadist would saddle their child with a name like “Jingle?” I’ve known some people of my generation whose hippie parents gave them names that were a little loopy, but come on. If your name was Jingle, wouldn’t you gladly trade it with someone named Summer or Leaf or Harmony?

Or, wait – could Jingle be a nickname? Maybe an approximation of a foreign name that Americans wouldn’t be able to pronounce? Still, in either case wouldn’t a sensible person adjust her name in adult life to something a little less… I don’t know, hilarious?

Then it dawned on me… OK, I get it – “Jingle!” What else could she be but a telemarketer?

Seriously, people, have you ever encountered someone with a more ludicrous name? Any theories as to what her last name might be?

You may have hired the wrong direct mail
marketer when…

I have this friend from work who used to sit on the same floor as I do, although we technically work for different companies. Recently his company got separate office space a few miles across town, so every couple of days I bundle up the mail for him that still arrives at our building and forward it along. Pictured at left is an item I sent to him today, including the post-it note I couldn’t resist attaching. The first comment on my note is self-explanatory; the second… suffice it to say they got the name of the company slightly wrong.

Barney the guard dog went berserk at a teddy bear exhibition in England and ripped the stuffing out of Elvis Presley’s beloved bear Mabel, exhibitors said on Thursday.

Wookey Hole Caves, a popular holiday destination in Somerset, southern England, was drawing children with its display of 1,000 precious teddy bears. The collection was so valuable that the insurance company insisted the exhibitors guard it with dogs.

[The museum's General Manager said the dog] “started with Mabel… almost severing her head, and then went mad. It took about 20 minutes to bring him out.”

Dozens of other bears were shredded too. Mabel is the property of a local aristocrat, who says he paid 40,000 pounds ($75,000) at auction for the bear.

As for Barney, “he’s going to be retired to a farm where he can chase chickens,” the manager said. “We’ve told the security company we don’t want anything nasty to happen to Barney, but we don’t want him back.”

But wait, there’s more. Cheek and Bluster has managed to finagle an exclusive interview with Barney the doberman. He spoke to me earlier today by telephone from his new home at an undisclosed location in rural Britain:

“The bear was looking at me funny,” Barney explained. “They pretty much all were. What was I supposed to do?”

Barney the newly-retired security guard
(Photo: Flickr/geordiekid)

The former guard dog explained that there is long-standing animosity in the canine world for stuffed animals. “Ask any dog,” he declared. “They don’t actually DO anything, they just sit there. And yet kids want to cuddle up to them! Why? What have they fetched, eh? Who have they scared away from the front gate?”

The reddish doberman stated that Mabel, the teddy bear formerly owned by Elvis Presley, had specifically provoked him.

“She said, ‘Hey mutt, you think you’re special? You know everyone’s coming here and paying to see us and not you skinny kennel-dwellers, don’t you?’ I mean, I’m a professional, but there are some things that can’t be tolerated, you know?”

Even without trash-talking, the lure of pouncing upon a teddy bear is virtually irresistible, according to Barney, 4. “They stare at you with those beady eyes, and you just want to throttle them. They’ve got those plastic noses, and that stuffing… I’m telling you, there’s nothing like getting your jaws on one, whipping it around and watching the stuffing fly. It’s cathartic.” He paused for a moment to control the drooling reflex.

“Retirement is all right, I suppose,” said Barney, whose future plans include fundraising for his own neutering-reversal surgery. “Chickens aren’t much of a challenge. How far can they really wander off to, you know? I don’t get to eat them when I catch them, either, so it’s all a bit dull. Still, there are always plenty of new sniffs to be had, and the sheepdogs are a friendly enough lot. We have a laugh, chase lorries down the lane, that sort of thing.”