. . . FROM ALL OF US AT
HIRSH HORN'S WEAKLY BLOW!
A HOLIDAY GREETING FROM THE EDITOR
As Editor of Hirsh Horn's Weakly Blow, it is my obligation to wish each and every one of you a lucrative and terror-free Holiday Season! It has been two or, possibly, three months since we launched this blog and dozens of readers have hit us, on purpose or by accident, several times. We have achieved many achievements, including a donation from my aunt and a death threat from a gun nut, or "firearms enthusiast" as he prefers to call himself. Hirsh Horn's Weakly Blow is not afraid of controversy and we will not back down from a position of principle, merely because a firearms enthusiast has threatened to "separate [our] souls from [our] liberal [bottoms]."
On a personal note, my aunt and self have MOVED OUT of the basement of the DuStentch Ammonia and Households Solvents Packaging Facility in Brass Castle, NJ and now live somewhere far away from there. Also, I remain single and would like to meet a nice, plump lady. Please try to remember that information, because love is the true meaning of Christmas and many other holidays.
Once again, on behalf of myself, my aunt and our 16 cats,
HAVE A YULETIDE CHRISTMAS
AND A RESOLUTE NEW YEAR!
Conrad Coleridge, Editor
And now . . .
A HOLIDAY MESSAGE FROM
HIRSH HORN
PUBLISHER of HIRSH HORN'S WEAKLY BLOW
Thanks Kenrod! You folks don't know me yet, but you will. And you will like me . . . or you'll regret it.
HA! I'm kidding. The truth is, you will like me because everybody does. What the hell is not to like?
Like Kenrod said, Happy blahblahblah. My name is Hirsh Horn and I pay the bills around here, which is why the sign upstairs has got my name on it. Don't worry, I can afford it - I'm President and CEO of DuStentch Ammonia and Households Solvents, Inc. I've got seven plants all over South Jersey and about 300 employees. Most of 'em are Guatemalan or something and over the weekend I gave out Christmas turkeys to every last one of 'em. You may not believe it, but some of those people never saw a turkey in their lives. It feels good to give 'em one and watch 'em look surprised, 'cause that's what the holidays are all about and blahblahblah. People like to get free food and turkey only costs ten bucks a bird if you buy 300 of 'em.
Anyway, I hear this blog thing is working out okay and according to my wife, who's always got something to say about every damn thing, I should tell you the story behind how it got started and also make a Statement of Principles. So, here comes all of that:
The story behind this thing is that Uncle Sam's Internal Revenuers will reach into your pocket and take whatever they can get as long as there's a coin or two jingling around down there, next to your balls. So instead of lettin' them have it, you might as well spend it in the interest of the public interest, by buying girl scout cookies or paying for a soccer team or whatever the hell. So, if you're like me, you make the same damn mistake you always make and you ask your wife what to do and she says you should publish a bleg or a blog or something. And you say, What the hell is that? and she says, Well, you get a writer to make up articles once a week, like in the Burlington County Advertiser. So, okay.
Now, mind you, I didn't get to be CEO of DuStench by doing things half-way. If I'm gonna do something at all, I'm gonna do it right. So I set out to find the best damn writers in the world!
But I couldn't. I don't know any damn writers and I'm glad I don't. So I forgot about the whole thing for a while, but then my wife started yapping about it again. She met somebody whose son is a college boy, and she's a nag, my wife, so I listened to her again and met with this snot-nosed kid who's too lazy even to put on a tie. I ask this mutt, as politely as I can, if he wouldn't mind doing a little writing for Hirsh Horn's Weakly Blow, in the interest of the public interest. And what does he say? He says he wants ten bucks an hour and he wants health insurance and he wants, get this, an "editorial budget."
And I'm thinkin' to myself: What in hell . . . ?!
Because there is no effin' way I'm gonna pay some crumbum writer more than the minimum wage. I've got Guatemalans all over South Jersey and every last one of 'em gets the minimum wage and, believe you me, they are happy to get it. And here I am, trying to publish a blog, even though I'm still not sure what the hell it is, in the interest of the public interest, and along comes this university brat who's worse than Uncle Sam's Internal Revenuers. Put yourself in my shoes - what would you do?
I'll tell you what you would do. You'd say, Why, you little thumb-sucking three-card-monte hustlin' college boy son-of-a-bitch! How fackin' old do you think I am? And then you'd sock him in the throat.
I know, I know - I gotta watch my temper. You can get in a lotta trouble, sockin' a kid in the throat. But, listen, I've got the best effin' lawyer in Jersey on a $3 million retainer and that kinda money buys a lot of justice. Try reporting one of my plants to OSHA and you'll find out what I mean.
So, after I punched-in that fella's windpipe, I thought to myself: Well, Hirsh, satisfying as that was, you've still got to find some fruity intellectual namby-pamby to write this blog of yours. And then my secretary, Tamika - nice gal, she's from Newark - Tamika reminds me that there's a guy named Kenrod that lives in the basement of one of my plants. And this guy's a writer - a good one, too, for all I know. So I rang him up and, oh boy, was he game! No health insurance, no "budgets" and, you can be damn sure, no ten bucks an hour.
I just let him write whatever he wants, which is why he writes mostly about himself - or so I hear, anyway, I never read this crap.
Alright, what else? Oh, yeah, my pain-in-the-ass wife - I call her The War Department - says I have to state my principles. So, okay, wait a minute. I think I gave my principles to Tamika and she put 'em somewhere.
Okay, here come the principles:
As publisher of Hirsh Horn's Weakly Blow, it is my duty - and I'll let you in on a little secret, it is also my pleasure - to see to it that the decent, hard-working people of this community, if there are any, aren't robbed blind by a pack of money-mad pirates or any other kind of pack of something. And I'll let you in on another little secret: I think I'm the man to do it. You see, I have money and property up the wazoo - I mean it. Let's say I lose a million dollars this year, publishing this effin' thing; and then let's say I lose another million next year and the year after that. At the rate of a million dollars a year, I'll probably have to close this blog in . . . sixty years!
HA! Ha, ha, ha! Sixty years! Good one, right?
So, for the next sixty years, I guess, I'll be . . .
. . . feistily yours,
Hirsh Horn, Publisher
Charles "Chuck" Hirshberg wuz here & thanks everyone else who wuz, too!
HAPPY HOLIDAYS!
-cc-
