FCN's Last Post Ever of All Time

Farewell according to F

It's that time of year again.

No wait! It's not that time of year. What am I saying? Fine, this isn't a good post anyway. It's a very sad one.

Fact is, our little baby blog here - FCN- it's been having some problems. It's been slowly lounging toward its own ... you know. We did everything we could to ease the burden. We reduced the frequency of posts. We even reduced the funniness of posts. Nothing seemed to work. FCN kept ... you know.

So now, we find ourselves collectively standing at FCN's bedside, listening to a gradually weakening "beep ... beep ... beep ..." I'm clenching my jaw in a manly way, secretly trying to hold back tears. C has his latest future emotional baggage weeping on his shoulder. N has his phone out. Chip couldn't make it but sends his best and promises to be at the funeral (as long as there are crab cakes). Jessica is just standing there. She's just standing there! Ana is in the hall arguing with the orderly. Mommy G is waiting in the lobby with brownies. Uncle Wally is sitting in the corner, asleep.

We've all come to a consensus.

You like that?

Consensus.

And this is what the consensus is: it's time to pull the plug. We can't stand to watch our baby be a vegetable. The doctor promised it'd be painless. Personally I think the doctor is full of it. It won't be painless. This is the hardest thing I've ever had to do - well, hardest ever since I gave my first edition copy of Chicken Soup for the Soul to a homeless guy (in exchange for a back rub).

FCN has always been there for us. She's what - 3 years old now? 4!? She's seen us through some hard times, and we've seen her through some too. And now it's over. We're finally euthanizing her, for real this time.

Goodbye baby. In the immortal words of Wham!:

"Wake me up before you go-go, cause I'm not planning on going solo. Wake me up before you go-go. Take me dancing tonight."

Oh! Just one more thing I really ought to say ...

I am Iron Man.

Farewell according to C

I'm going to be more sentimental than F because I am so confident in my masculinity that a little reflection does not threaten my identity. When Funny Class Notes first started, I was a high school student who was tired of paying attention in class. I succeeded in distracting my friends and decided to go viral with my tomes, essays, satires, doodles and what not. In the last few years, FCN has become my repository. Teachers, classes, cars, relationships, favorite celebrities and, yes, teeth have come and gone but FCN remained constant. This page was a place of comfort, where I could dump my partially censored thoughts into cyber-space with pseudo-anonymity.

Of course, the few people who read these expressive and revealing posts were also the people who mattered. Friends would email me with the subject line "REALLY WORRIED ABOUT YOU" based on FCN content that was, I say with only a little shame, 85% true. Others would speculate about where the tale left the train tracks of veracity and entered the fanciful world of fiction. Still more people would refuse to talk to me again based on their portrayal in an FCN post. I'm sorry Carrie, really. As addictive as comfort food -- and almost as dangerous -- FCN was a bridge that made me almost as many friends as it lost. And it was worth it.

I'm going to reflect on my time as an author with a pleasant grin. I'll probably reread some of our posts and chuckle at their sophomoric creativity -- such is the perspective provided by time. None of this would have been possible without the amazing support of you, the faithful FCN few. I have regularly thanked you for your continued loyalty and supportive comments -- but no expression of gratitude suffices to fully articulate the high esteem in which we hold you. FCN was here because you were here. Thank you for the fun times.

[Note: Hyperlinks in this paragraph direct to a friend's blog, Vague Apprehension. It comes highly recommended without reservation.]

FCN has long been the Lady Gaga of blogs: We're popular, but no one really knows why. We produce content, the critics scratch their heads and we gain social currency. The similarities don't stop there: we also prance around in our underwear, have the musical taste of a baboon and have very public dating lives.

I hope Miss Germanotta (a.k.a. "Lady Gaga") takes the hint and follows our lead. Retirement is, I am told, very comfortable for former pop stars. Just stop releasing new songs and rest on the laurels of such magnificent pieces as "Alejandro" and "Telephone."

Like F, I will close this farewell with a pop culture reference. Mine is to Lee "Hacksaw" Hamilton, who put it best when he said: "Good night now!" Good night now, FCN!

Will the Last Person Leaving FCN -- Turn Out the Lights.

Farewell according to N

It's been a long run.

A LONG run.

Not literally of course. In fact, not figuratively either. More like a bumbling walk. But that's how we like it. Slow and stumbling wins the race. Or finishes it at post 865.

When I started writing with C in 2005, I was in 8th grade. I really didn't worry about college. In fact, now that I think of it, I wasn't particularly concerned about high school. But here I am on May 22th, 2010. Yesterday was my last day as a senior of secondary education. It's time to move on to a new part of my life.

No more Life Tips. No more hours on Wikipedia looking for applicable hyper links. No more picking up chicks by telling the ladies I was the one who actually wrote C's posts. (Sorry, F. I promised I'd tell you what my secret was when we shut FCN down.)

I will miss it. But most of all I will miss you. Yes, YOU. Not him, not her. YOU, my most favorite reader of all. Don't tell the others, but I loved you the most. I always have. Sniff.

I bid adieu with the immortal closing words from Nancy Pelosi's statement on Healthcare Reform:

"Thank you, my colleagues. Thank you, Mr. Speaker. I thank the gentleman for yielding. I thank all of you for bringing us to this moment."

Thank you for the wonderful moments you have brought us.

Farewell according to Chip

Hooey, people. Those tears are going to melt your faces. When I joined FCN I was an obese old splutterer whose only claim to fame was tenth reader status, participation in a short highjacking attempt, and a peculiar facility for producing "tawdry laughs." FCN's extraordinary longevity (both in time and in wordiness) doesn't give me fond tears or fond memories; it just reminds me that one more thing in this world isn't as short as me.

Yes, it's been a good run. Especially after the women got involved (which is exactly when I started running). But all good things must end, and when they do, they have funerals with free refreshments. It's been great to work with you, F, C, N, Jessica, and Ana. You've given me more chuckles than anyone except Marilyn Manson, and you've filled my homework hours with joyful and unproductive laughter. I don't know what I'll do without you. Good bye, dear readers. I have never seen you, but I believe you exist anyway. Farewell, FCN! May your august archives continue to pollute unsuspecting minds for years to come.

Can I have my crab cakes now?

Farewell according to Jessica

10:30pm. Began writing farewell post.

10:31pm. Turned on Pandora to the “Boys Like Girls” station. Skipped 3 songs, changed to the “Explosions in the Sky” station. Serious/solemn times call for serious/solemn music.

10:38pm. Resumed writing farewell post, now armed with copious amounts of ice cream and a box of tissues. Who knew this would be such an emotional turning point? Now I know how Kevin Jonas probably secretly felt when he got married. Happy a new chapter of life was starting, but sad to say farewell to millions of adoring female fans who would gladly date him without commitment. But, unlike C, I’m not looking to date anyone. And I’m not a dude. That analogy is starting to crash. Backpedal. It’s time to reminisce.

10:45pm. Blankly staring at computer screen. Skipped another lame song on Pandora. Finished first pint of ice cream. Logged in to Facebook. Oh, the hours I used to spend reading FCN. I guess now I'll have to turn to Facebook to fill those empty moments.

11:37pm. Still on Facebook. It’s almost like a pain-relieving narcotic. I completely forgot about FCN’s dissolution for nearly an hour.

11:52pm. Decided to face the facts and focus on the good times rather than the saddening reality of FCN’s conclusion. Skipped more songs until Pandora started cursing at me and exploded. Time for silence I guess. But that’s fitting. FCN deserves her moment of silence. Farewell, FCN. I’ve spent more time as a FCN reader than as a FCN writer. And frankly, I’m really sad to see the magic stop. Yes, it’s time. All good things must come to an end, and we just have to let them go. But did that kind of advice lessen the sting of the phase-out of eight-track tapes for Bill Lear? Doubt it.

This is it. Goodbye hijackers. Goodbye Anonymous. Goodbye faithful readers. We're sure you have more important things to do with your time online, like maintaining your farm on Farmville, or compulsively clicking the StumbleUpon button... but if you get the chance, look us up. These posts will be here as a lasting monument to the good ole days of blogging.

Like the Wicked Witch of the West after an accidental shower… I’m meltingggg…

Farewell according to Ana

I wish I could say that I'm sad to see FCN go. I wish I could cry a couple crocodile tears. I wish I could pretend to be a fragile female and fall into a faint at the thought of saying "Farewell, FCN." But I can't. Instead, all I can do is breathe a sigh of relief that this phase of my life is over. No longer do I have to dissect every aspect of my life, trying to extract something funny from every occurrence for the amusement of mere strangers somewhere in cyberspace. Instead, I can now simply go through life, laughing at the humorous moments and then promptly forgetting them. Finally, I can stop being a bum student who takes notes on strange things that go on in class, and I can instead take notes on what the professor is actually talking about (I wonder what that will do for my 2.37 GPA?). In short, I'm not really sad to see FCN depart. While it's been a big part of my life for the past 4+ years, I think the time has come to say goodbye. So goodbye, FCN. And goodbye stranger in cyberspace. It's been fun. Ish.

Something Changed!

Wait! Don't go!

Don't freak out. Don't freak out. Something changed. Don't freak out.

This is still FCN. Your old buddies. Sick, not-very-funny satire written in the back row of Spanish class for the last few years. It's us. Remember us? We just changed our look. Slowly, gently. Ease your mouse off that big X and read on.

Here at FCN, we're about more than just brownies, girls, and bad grades (though of course those are all wonderful things too).

I don't remember where that was going.

So let's get to the point: we've branched out. FCN now has a Twitter - yes, a Twitter - and a FormSpring. This allows you to ask us questions about anything, and allows us to tweet about anything you forget to ask about.

To symbolize these - upgrades? - we're tweaking the site format a bit as well. The tired old header that has graced this site for the past year or so has been replaced by a new, soon-to-be tired old header that will grace this site for a year or so. We decided to go for green as an apology for not posting anything on St Patrick's Day.

Check us out twitter:
http://twitter.com/funnyclassnotes

And ask us something on formspring:
http://www.formspring.me/funnyclassnotes

Oh and PS: this new format is a work in progress, so everything you hate about it is theoretically temporary.

Welcome to the all-new FCN

It's bigger, it's badder, it's ...

Okay, it's not. Unless badder counts for being worse. Like ... 80% worse.

Here at FCN, we've always taken a sort of pride in our mediocrity. We're a vastly inferior blog with bad layout, poor taste, and tacky ideas. Basically the only thing we ever had going for us was post frequency. We've given you about 800 posts in the last few years: enough humorous content with which - by means of fire - to roast more than a few marshmallows.

In a recent FCN team meeting which we did not tape or video, we came to an important decision. Here are the notes, which were kept by the copiously attentive F:

FCN TEAM MEETING LATE OCTOBER TOO LAZY TO CHECK EXACT DATE Role call. Everyone present. Mommy G does not approve of N's dating behaviors. N is a very sorry little boy. Haha to you, N. Whats her face wants to post less often. Sounds cool to me. Instead of voting, let's play Halo.

What that means, for those of you who are unaccustomed to the complex formatting and lingo of meeting minutes, is this: we can't keep posting 5 times a week. It's burning us out. We need oue beauty sleep, and we need to wake up in time to get our nails done and our cereal poured. Time is of the essence, and it today's fast-moving world no one has enough.

We don't have time to write a bunch of posts each week, and you don't have time to read them. So let's simplify.

Starting immediately, we hereby reneg on all previous promises of constant content. You may no longer depend on us for a post EXCEPT on one day: Saturday. Saturday is a very special day. On it, we will - you know - post something. So come back then. And if you wanna come back between, you have 800 posts to catch up on. We're sure you missed a few here and there.

We love you, our faithful FCN reader(s). Lots and lots. Hearts! Please don't leave us. Just come to terms with the new distance in the relationship. Okay? Okay.

PS. Welcome back!

Sabbatical

One of our writers is pregnant.

One of our writers has contracted a very violent and contagious disease.

One of our writers is afraid of the Internet.

One of our writers woke up on the wrong side of the bed.

One of our writers was left in the drier.

One of our writers was mauled by a mythical animal.

All of our writers are out of ideas.

One of the above excuses is true.

Please give us some time as we sort this out. We will be on sabbatical until the first of November.

Ideas are appreciated in the interim.

Thanks and see you in a month.

FCN

Short Post Marathon

For the next couple of weeks, we will have lots of short posts, put up throughout the day. Nuff said.

FCN Sells Out

Take a look around this page. Do you see anything different? New? Anything at all? No? Look again.

Yes, that's right. Very good! Go buy yourself Snickers TM Bar, Everyone's Favorite Candy Bar TM.

FCN has become ... ahem ... *monetized.* It means we have ads. Theoretically, those ads will mean we will eventually make money (and by we, I mean the 3 founding fathers of FCN - not the newcomers, who still allow us to beat down on them).

It's illegal for us to ask you to click on them. It's pushing the envelope to even point out that they exist. But we can't resist. Because if certain things go right in our world, we'll be ro-sham-bo-ing for the happy meal toy six months from now, courtesy of you, the faithful FCN reader.

We hope you enjoy our new, intrusive, tacky ads.

Spring Break

Funny Class Notes is on Spring Break. We are lounging by the beach, drinking our drinks with umbrellas and doing all the things we always wanted to do but never did because we had other things we had to do. Check back in for more content on April 13th. Until then, happy Easter!

And...we're back

It's hard to believe we haven't published on this auspicious site in almost two months. I can't remember the last time I was this far away from FCN - maybe when the site was hijacked or perhaps when I got that nasty bubbly thing on my index finger that oozed puss and was generally unfriendly to my friends. It was actually right by the webbing on my right hand such that when I reached for the "H" from the "J" key, I felt a slashing pain - like a paper cut with lemon juice in it. Only when I...what is that? I am getting the TMI signal from the booth. I'll reign it in.

So we're back. The beach was good, the tan is dark and we're ready to switch out of these aloha shirts into our Belichick hoodies. But the FCN you see before you now is not the same FCN that left you suddenly and inauspicously a few weeks ago. Yes, faithful few, we have changed. Two writers of fancy prose have been added to our ranks. I like that word, fancy; it's the kind of thing a redneck might say about his foodservice. The word fancy is also apropos because our two new writers are...wait for it...female.

A sudden wave of energy washed over the FCN reader like the heated recoil of a beretta. The reader shook his head, denying what he had just read and willing the words on the page to change. "May it not be so!" he muttered out loud, gripping his mouse with a ferocity usually reserved to the physically fit. The mouse strained against the filthy mousepad, making a creaking sound like the floor in front of the bathroom. "May it not be so! FCN is a male haven, a glimpse into a man's psyche and a college student's thoughts. Wait...is this what mysogyny feels like?" the reader thought.

To break into your reverie of self doubt and shock and maybe ease the pain of knowing that there are more X chromosomes than Y chromosomes on the writing staff and this haven of masculine dominance has been invaded by those who may actually suffer from misandry, you need to understand the tale behind the predicament.

You see, FCN did not set out to get a girl on its writing squad. We meet enough women as it is and, believe me, don't need to test our luck within our ranks. Rather, it's F's fault. He was on a date with Jessica, a pretty girl with an NRA dad. F ran out of things to talk about so he mentioned that FCN was looking for humor writers. Jessica said she could write. She showed us some writing samples but we didn't like them and told her thanks but no thanks. After a visit from the NRA dad, Jessica had a position. Welcome Jessica to the writing staff at FCN! Yay!

Ana is our other contributor. We've known Ana for a long time. She's like our older sister in that she is older, she's a girl and she bosses us around. Ana emailed a few weeks ago demanding a position. She said she would box our ears and tell our moms all sorts of nasty things if we didn't oblige. So we obliged. Welcome Ana to the writing staff at FCN! Yay!

Man, my index finger is hurting again. I feel like the groom in a shotgun wedding. But we should welcome these newcomers. They probably feel like John McCain at a computer terminal or Barack Obama in the Oval Office: out of place. They are brown shoes in a tuxedo world. Say hi; let them know you aren't a hater. Don't be a misanthrope. Welcome these talented and pretty people who have agreed to assist us in our pursuit of dereliction.

Sabbatical

In case you hadn’t noticed, FCN has been pretty much swamped the last couple of weeks. And I am using the word swamped in the Fay, Gustav, Hanna and Ike sort of way. We haven't posted very often and we haven't announced our light schedule very well. We have totally abused your confidence as readers, and for that I apologize with all the sincerity of my youthful heart.

There are a number of reasons for the dirth of postage. First, dereliction is hard work. Sometimes writing about our escapades gets the back burner (mind you, the escapades still happen, they just don't always get published for your titillation. It's a George Berkeley kind of situation). Second, these days school is very, very academic at this time of year. And I mean that in the most redundant way possible. Even a C student has to work sometimes to keep his grades up. Thirdly, F dropped out of school and has the emotional commitment George Clooney (Sarah who?). This means that we lost a very verbose contributor and the architect behind Desperate Student. Your classes miss you, bro! Fourth, it's the girls man. Mrs. L figures this is probably the biggest reason, and maybe she is right. Working the bellows in a meager social life is difficult enough without taking time out to blog about it.

Anyway, FCN needs to catch its breath and we don't want to string you guys out like voters in a two year campaign. So we're taking a little breather - sort of like Michael Phelps, but shorter and with smaller ears. We'll be back here at the beginning of November with lots of new content and, hopefully, lungs full of air. Yes, we will be windbags.

In the meantime, if you are interested in becoming a guest contributor for FCN, please fire us an email with a writing sample and your mother's maiden name. After we empty your bank account, we'll read the writing sample and laugh at you. No seriously, we are looking for some more authors to bring on board who share our commitment to laziness. If that describes you, we'd enjoy the addition to our team.

Thanks as always for your faithful readership. We look forward to blogging again in a couple of months.

Fine. The Funny is Back.

I thought I'd have the self-control to leave FCN for good. I have principles you know!

Okay let me try that again.

I thought I'd have the self-control to leave FCN for good.

There. That's a much better start.

The fact is, the last three months were utter [lasagna]. I managed to keep the days full but there was just something missing. I often layed awake at night wondering things. Most of them had nothing to do with FCN. You know - zebras, the Egyptians - that sort of thing. But every now and then, I had a spasm. It went something like:

spasm"I have an FCN post!"/spasm

Said spasms just kept getting worse. Last night it was really bad. It was more like:

spasm"[Cranberries]! I need to write a post right now or I'll [flake] my [potato]!!"/spasm

Well, you've all flaked your potatoes at one time another, so you know how painful that can be. I knew drastic measures were in order. I had three options:

1. Join rFCN.
2. Start the FCN Zombies blog.
3. Go back to FCN and beg for forgiveness.

Option one involved tracking down the rFCN email address. Option two involved some level of technical competence. Number three was clearly my ticket.

We had a conference last night. I'll give you the short summary: there were spatulas. Owie. But we're good now. I even made up with Chip, who's a lazy rotten small-creature-infested scumbag, so that's really saying something. The team agreed to let me go back to the usual posting schedule, whatever that means. And I got my old position and pay back, whatever THAT means. I mean what the [petunias].

Anyway.

I'm back. I know, it's pretty small news next to Chip getting official last week. But it's true. I'm back. I'm only slightly more bitter and cynical than I was when I left. And I'll get started right away supplying the ... content you've come to expect from this blog. [Hurray]! Effective immediately, F is back!

Chip, FCN Few; FCN Few, Chip

Ladies and Gentleman, boys and girls, androgynies and undecideds:

FCN has officially expanded and, for once, we aren't talking about our waistlines. After much hee-hawing, negotiating and threats, we managed to get a brand new writer to agree to join our team. It was our Bannister moment, our scaling of Everest and life accomplishment. Yes, faithful few, with this accolade to pin to our collective vest and dust nightly, we have nothing further to accomplish. We have climbed the ladder, sailed the sea and pumped the gas. This is, without a doubt, the third proudest moment in FCN history (behind, of course, the naissance of rFCN and our 366th post). But enough hype. Today we welcome into our fold our fourth contributor, Chip, as an official member of the FCN team.

Rather than pontificate on the credential and caliber of our new member - an activity we will leave for y'all in the comment section - we devote the remainder of this self-aggrandizing post to a first person account from the one and only Chip:

Hello all. I am Chip. No need to get up, I'll just make myself comfortable. Thank you. Tea with lemon, please. And a scone, if you have one. I am proud of my name. You could say I am one off the old block, except that the old block is just a pack of derelicts anyway, which is not much to speak of, and I am in fact a delinquent, which is even less to speak of and not something I would want to make the old block responsible for. That's a silly pun anyway. Besides, I share my name with my favorite food, a happy coincidence that has contributed both to my delinquency and my belt size. You could say I'm a potato Chip, not a micro Chip. Only, don't.

Having been honored with permanent FCN status, the least I can do is offer a few suggestions regarding how to solve the havoc I've caused. You are aware of course that FCN is an acronym, not only for the original contributors’ names, but for the title of their website. Funny Class Notes. That is a clever, descriptive appellation that fits nicely into a url. Unfortunately, my arrival upsets the equilibrium. What should the new name be? Funny Class Note Chips (FCNC)? Chipped Funny Class Notes (CFCN)? Funny Chip Class Notes (FCCN)? Funny Class Chip Notes (FCCN)? Class Chip Notes Funny (CCNF)? Class Funny Notes Fun Chip Ssalc Seton Pich Class Ynnuf Ynuff Ynuff! (CFNFCSSPCYYY!)?

I don’t know about you, but all of these seem to miss the sweet spot - like Jessica Simpson's "music." So my proposal is this: Keep the name as it is, but in your heart, in that bosom place that we just don't talk about at parties, think of my visage as the figurehead of FCN. They have the name, but I've got the face. That will uphold both the site’s prestigious name and the dignity of yours truly. Not that I am blessed with any great reserve of dignity—but I would appreciate the gesture, all the same.

Plus, my mom always told me I was a handsome man. Maybe I can improve on the current looks of the FCN team.

As homage to me and as a way to make up for not including my name in the blog's title, I ask that my fellow contributors use the word "Chip" at least four times in every post, as well as in the exact middle of every post. Doing so would increase post size by exactly 0.5% on average, or if they so choose, reduce the effort of writing a post of normal length by the same percentage. You see, I usually write posts about 800 words long. Adding four instances of “Chip” would make it possible to increase my word count by four, which is 0.5% of 800. Thank you, I actually used a calculator, so it wasn't that impressive. Still, it's pretty cool that I know that. And now you know that. Of course, the advantage would not be so pronounced for prolific (and insanely verbose, if you ask me) writers like C, who always spits out more than a thousand words unless he’s scrimping for his Pacifican posts, or for the writer of the Desperate Student serial novel which is reportedly projected at current rates to end up thicker than Queen Latifah.

Besides, if the middle word of every post were “Chip,” you as readers would know when you were half done with the post, and you could conveniently skip the rest or keep going, depending on the wittiness of the content. You'd risk missing the epic conclusion, but you would probably also miss all the after-inspiration rambling that goes on when the main impetus of a sickly post has been expended. And you could get through more CFNFCSSPCYYY posts at one sitting.

And so with this simple recommendation, I happily accept my new position. I would like to thank the great folks at FCN for making this all possible. Also my second grade writing teacher, who always ripped up my doodles and corrected the spelling of my name. And my little sister, who gave me my cynical, sarcastic streak of humor. Of course, I could not close this post without mentioning In-N-Out Burger, the ultimate fast food chain. I don't know why I'm mentioning them, but I feel like I'm giving an Oscar acceptance speech and that justifies a lot of nonsense. Nor should I fail to express my gratitude to my pet poodle who died two years ago but who still inspires me today, and to my wonderful fellow citizens throughout the state. In fact, if it weren’t for humanity itself, I wouldn’t be here. Thank you all! I love you! I hope you enjoy FCN as much as I do!

FCN Classics Fortnight

We tried this last summer and it was a smash hit. No, I'm not referencing an evening spent with the local country hicks cow tipping, although that was pretty fun. Neither am I referring to the time I decided to go 36 hours without sleep, because that wasn't a smash hit. Rather, FCN is going to return to the popular classics format for a couple of weeks to showcase all the awesome content that is relegated to the back pages of this site.

And we need your help. We have our ideas about what our "favorite" post is, but we have already established that our tastes look Amy Winehouse look normal. I still think our best post was that piece about whether George Washington really existed, but most of you can't even remember it because you have subconsciously blocked it out. The memory of the post caused too much pain and had to be expunged.

We are derelict college students, which naturally disqualifies us from any right to select good clothes and, by extension, good humor. But you, the faithful FCN few, are, at least in theory, perfectly normal people and perfectly normal fashion tastes. And, by extension, you have good taste in humor, your frequenting FCN notwithstanding.

This is FCN's 534th post. That's a lot of dereliction. It's also some hidden gems that you maybe haven't read or are good enough for a second look. In the comment section of this post or by emailing us at funnyclassnotes - at - gmail - dot- com, please identify any posts you would like to see honored in a Classics series over the next two weeks. Just a line or two of descriptive text or a hyperlink would be great. The posts don't have to be the "obvious" favorites (i.e. they can be posts that C has written), but they should reflect above average writing on the part of the boys here at FCN.

Speaking about the other guys for as second, we are dealing with some pretty hefty egos. People that need to kind of approval and affirmation offered only by the anonymous internet. I know, it's pretty bad, but it's the truth. If you can, please try to them the kind of encouragement that will keep them writing on into perpetuity. It doesn't take much, but a little nod can keep the heart of selfish egomaniac palpitating. For that matter, I wouldn't mind a nomination or two.

So get digging, folks. Our archives are open to your perusal (see the links on the sidebar). Pottery Barn rules do apply, so don't manhandle anything (what a sexist term!). But do browse to your heart's content. And then comment with which one of my posts you want reposted.

F is for Freedom

I had intended not to post on this blog ever again, but after that libelous post last Friday I just couldn't stay silent. I do care a tiny bit about my legacy. I had hoped I wouldn't have to say this, but my hand has been forced. It's time for the truth.

I didn't abandon FCN. I was ejected. What C, N, and Chip conveniently neglected to remember in their last post on the subject was that, in a series of staff meetings all through May, my opinions were not only ignored, but actively suppressed. Eventually I found out why: because I had the distinction of having written the longest post in FCN history, topping 2400 words (none of which were swear words). The other contributors were resentful. I even heard one of them whispering when he thought I couldn't hear about how I was a stuck-up take-over hopeful. I guess they never really got over that one incident last year, either, even though I apologized from the bottom of my heart and everything.

The atmosphere around the FCN water cooler was growing increasingly poisonous. Last week I finally decided to broach the subject, and everyone hemmed and hawed and muttered into their mountain dews. I made a speech, complete with emphatic gestures in the air and a final cry at the end in which my voice broke. My fellow contributors were unmoved.

I wrote a dozen posts and put them in the queue, but whenever I tried to post them someone would take them back offline immediately. I tried everything I could think of. I even baked chocolate-chip macadamia cookies as a peace offering. N was let out of the hospital the next morning and doctors say he'll have no permanent scarring.

Well, what's a fellow to do when faced with insidious backstabbing? I couldn't stay. I wasn't wanted.

So I'm gone, and where I am now you can't hope to find me, unless you use the tracking beacon that was implanted in my brain because of a government experiment, but that's another story - and one that will probably never be told unless rFCN recruits me or something. Or maybe I'll start my own blog. I'll call it: Mental Atrophy Farm. Or: Six Years Under the Command of Captain Spooner. Or simply: I like Zebras.

But for now, only one thing is certain. I'm leaving, never to come back again. But I'm not one to leave on a bitter note. Let me offer my final adieus and thank yous, in no particular order:

C: If it weren't for you, my posts would look significantly less brilliant. So thank you for that. Oh, and your banner art is lame - do I really have to tell you that MS Paint is an embarrassment to the United States and border countries? Please. Download GIMP or something.

N: Well, the slow-release album ended before we could get your picture up. That makes me happy. Because you get less fame and glory. See what I'm saying? The things that make you sad make me happy. We're opposites. It's because I don't like you anymore.

Chip: I think you had this planned from the start, you dirty scum. You replaced me. I hope you get sucked into an escalator. I hope the chef puts a rock in your crouton salad. I hope you slip on a wet floor in front of your girlfriend and then you see a wet floor sign right next to you and you're all embarrassed.

Yeah. I just went there.

Mommy G: You always gave me a shoulder to cry on, a brownie to munch on, and a spatula for the other contributors. I'll miss you. Good luck with those wolves.

Uncle Wally: Maybe you should look into the fast food industry or something. They're always hiring. You know? Just a thought.

Em: I know you're embarrassed whenever I mention you. But I don't feel bad about that anymore. This post is for telling it like it is, and no goodbye would be complete without a shout out to you. Goodbye forever, Em.

Loyal Readers: You may be few, but you are strong. You'd have to be to read the sort of things we post here. I'll be sure to let you know if I join some other blog (like the Daily Kos - oooh - nice). So when I do, you can all drop everything and go over there. And FCN will flounder.

That's right, you backstabbing contributors. Flounder.

Flounder.

Flounder.

Storm's coming.

F abandons FCN

"Commitment" is a hard word. It's three syllables long and has a lot of repeating Ms and Ts, which renders the spelling arduous. The principle behind the term is similarly formidable. Commitment requires not backing down or giving up, even in the face of, well, artistic differences.

Here at FCN, we've never laid much of a claim to commitment. "Lackadaisical" seems like a better description of our approach to life and we've never had a hard time changing course if it meant finding an easier path. But we demand a higher level of integrity from others. Nobody kicks us to the curb, leaves us out to dry, runs out on us or abandons our ship. No siree, sir! When the wind blows against your sales, we expect you to make good use of the jib to keep your sloop on an honest bearing.

This is more than a credo. It is a mandate; a directive so puissant, no amount of badgering can get us to renege. Ever. We expect others to never give up. Not after six pieces of pizza, three coke classics and two bowls of onion rings. Never.

In fact, we expect out of you and each other the same thing the Obamination sees in Billary: the can't quit attitude.

At least that's what I thought until last week, when I got a rude awakening to the realities of today's internet world. Apparently "yes" doesn't always mean what the Greeks said it means, because F gave the world a new interpretation of the term, and entered a another chapter in the FCN Manifesto, by packing his cyber bags and walking out on FCN.

That's right. No last post; no train of long goodbyes (or even a single adios). Just a forlorn and empty user where F used to write his funny tomes, cutting social criticism and relevant satire. It's an empty locker where Mean Joe Green's jersey once hung. It's a deserted and quiet Carnival after a night's frivolity. It's Seattle after Boeing left.

And now it's just me and N and, of course, Chip, our guest contributor. We'll do our best, but things won't be the same without you, F. If you are reading this, please come back. We need you. Heck, I need you. I'm a mess without you. I miss you so dang much. I miss being with you, I miss being near you. I miss your laugh. I miss your scent; I miss your musk. When this all gets sorted out, I think you and I should get an apartment together. Maybe I should stop talking for a little while.

No! I can't be groveling. We cannot reduce ourselves to sniveling dogs, circling the table for morsels that drop from our master's table. I will command. F? You come back and make a public apology. You have lost all credibility, like the time on the local news channel when the camera panned back and revealed the anchor was barefoot. You need to earn back your respect in the humor community. You grovel; cry and fill a cereal bowl with tears. Then we'll see about letting you back into our little club.

Please, man? I mean, you'll always have a place here if you want to return.

FCN readers, your consideration and condolences are appreciated during this particularly difficult time for the FCN team. We want to be cheery and happy, light and funny, but it's hard when you lose such an integral piece. Please use the comment section to remind F about how much he means to you and maybe we can get enough of an outcry to bring him back even if it's just to say goodbye.

Why don't you link to other blogs?

If you have followed my web publishing career for a long time (by "a long time," I mean at least fourteen dog years), you may recall the tall, vapid list of links that became a staple on my earlier blogging endeavors. These scrawling shout outs cluttered the page unnecessarily and camouflaged new content to such an extent that readers had to hunt for actual posts. I thought I'd created a website adventure but the not-so fun loving who read the site were irritated out of their minds. The blogroll wasn't attractive, useful or necessary, but it reigned supreme on my sidebar like a vestigial organ waiting for it's listectomy.

A well meaning friend asked me the other day why FCN doesn't have any such blogroll. Of course, I say he was "well meaning" because I am about to insult him. Of all the questions to ask about FCN, is our lack of a blogroll the most earth shattering? Why not ask why Todd dies in his second episode only to live on through several more? Why not ask how three derelicts manage to rise so early to get a post on the internet (Pacific Time, doubters!). Why not ask about Desperate Student? There are plenty of valid questions there.

Then again, the germane question is usually the one that goes unasked, so maybe I shouldn't be too hard on my friend.

Here at FCN, we maintain no list of friendly, reciprocal or even fanciful "blogs we like." In fact, our linkage is very minimalistic. While most sites keep at least a small blogroll with friends' sites or other interesting fare, we don't. Why?

There are many easy answers: We don't have any friends. We don't have any friends who blog. Even if we did have friends who blog, we wouldn't link to their sites. We have such varied taste in blogs that the disputes created by a definitive list would cause a rift between us contributors. Linking to other blogs is morally wrong. No other blogs would like to link to us. Linking requires work.

Like most easy answers, all of the above options are false. The real reason has to do with our rebellious nature. Remember those association games you played as a kid? Blue > water, water > thirsty, thirsty > hungry, etc? Well, oe more we can add to that list is "blog > link list." Where a blog is a useless amalgamation of hyperlinks will be also. Links are considered the "currency" of the internet, whatever that means. They open the door for other sites and the truly globalized internet is the blogrolled one, or so they taught us in blogger 101. "You gotta have 'em," as one wizened author once told me.

This culture of "I'll link to you if you'll link to me" has become standardized across the great servers of the world. Blogs have come to demand links from others, as if it is their birthright to see their name underlined. Don't link and you are using cash in a Visa check card world:



To us here at FCN, nonconformity is more than a virtue, it is a creed. We aren't normal people (who is?) and, in case you hadn't noticed, we broadcast that abnormality through this site. When others say jump we think twice and prepare our estate before asking "how high?" When others write sincere essays for their college entrance, we prepare a passel of indefensible lies.

Not publishing a list of links is our version of growing our hair out. My economics professor hasn't cut his hair or shaved since 1964, a fact that is readily apparent from his dilapidated personal appearance and that is a regular source of pride for him. Since they haven't yet found a way to give blogs hair, we make due with what is available.

That doesn't mean we haven't provided some links now and again. To continue an already tenuous analogy beyond its expiration, some hairs do manage to escape our cyber razor. To wit, see here and here.

Keep in mind that our content exists for the entertainment of ourselves and, of course, our moms. We also sometimes consider the faithful few, but only for fleeting moments. If you want us to link to you, your content needs to be entertaining and captivating. It needs to grab us by the chain and yank, in exactly the way PETA wouldn't approve. Alternatively, it can be funny. We have twelve readers, most of whom will probably at least look at your page if we provide a link, but your material needs to be worthy of their attention.

Please remember that the mere fact that you have a blog is not worthy of our reader's attention. Heck, I have a blog. That's my four word refutation. If you want a link, send us a page of your best content and we will give it fair consideration. That is, we will assign it heads or tails on a coin and make sure the toss is conducted properly.

Okay. Who am I kidding? We are so strapped for content we'll probably post anything. Send us a picture of your Grandma and you'll get face time. Well, maybe not, but it's worth a short, isn't it?

FCN's Golden Age has ended!

The hijacker relinquished full control of FCN back to us yesterday, much to our dismay. We got down on our knees and begged him/her to stay. "Please don't go," we said. We said it just like that. We used those very words. Alas, they were to no effect. He/she insisted on leaving, so we're back, and we have to come up with content again.

Rats.

We know there were some pretty harsh things said about the hijacker. He/she was accused of being unoriginal, pandering, and dull. We would come out and say this was hogwash, but we don't want to disagree with a reader publicly. So we'll say that, while this may be true, there are other angles from which to approach the situation that may lead to seeing the facts in a different light.

We think - no, we declare - that the hijacker's short tenure represented FCN's Golden Age. With a legacy of intellectually stimulating and entertaining posts on a range of relevant topics, this hijacker is leaving not in shame, but to rest on his/her laurels, satisfied with a week well run.

So now we have to plod on alone, as we've been doing for a year or two, depending on how you measure it. We don't even know what we'll do for you guys tomorrow. Maybe we'll sing a song. We'll see.

People like the hijacker, who presumably has a personal blog elsewhere, are the reason FCN is still more than 78 million years away from global domination. We don't mind the wait. We're in very good company.

Why do girls read humor blogs?

It's a phenomenon as antiquated as the medium it expresses itself upon and yet it remains as enigmatic as the retrograde motion of the stars. If Ptolemy, Shen Kuo and Hipparchus were alive today, it would no doubt stump them. If Hwang Woo-Suk were still a credible member of the scientific community, he would falsify data and claim to have busted the phenom. If Winona Rider saw the solution in a department store, she would shop lift it. But that isn't necessary, because we here at FCN put our best minds to work on breaking the code and discovering what it is, exactly, that makes humor blogs so popular among the female gender.

While we may have falsified some data, no cute dogs were killed in the process. Take that, Hwang!

In the interest of full disclosure (never a priority here at FCN, but still occasionally stimulating), the good people at Life From the Toaster first brought this quandary to our attention last week. If you want a free CD and are a guy (some people just aren't liberated, we know), visit his site and place a comment on his post. What CD, you ask? What are the chances of winning, you ask? We don't know; just go comment already!

Goodness, full disclosure can be really painful.

Uncle Wally put some work into the Malthusian science of Demographics. He installed a (chocolate chip) cookie on our blog that logs arcane information about visitors like screen resolution, web history and propensity to spend money online. By cross-referencing this information with a database of "technically" legally retrieved information purchased from a seedy Haitian-based web dealer, he discovered that the vast majority of FCN's readers are females. The results of his study, complete with mind numbingly complicated line charts will be published in the April First issue of the journal Science.

Now to that "Woo-suk" data we promised: FCN's readership clocks in at 11 unique visitors since December of 2006. We are proud of each and every one of these visitors who form the entirety of the FCN few and make up what we like to call "The FCN Dozen." In the spirit of the baker's dozen, we are one shy because we gave up early. But we still find a way to be proud of our accomplishments.

Gender ambiguities in Uncle Wally's data don't let us know for sure how many of our readers are female and absent an absolute guarantee from him, we are reticent to share his conclusions. We will, however, say that the majority is undeniable.

The limits of Uncle Wally's research were reached when we asked the basic question "why?" That's when we put FCN's best minds to work (sorry Wally) and came up with the following 5 reasons for feminine preference for humor blogs:

1) Spending Opportunities. FCN gives you, the faithful few, many opportunities to flex your expenditure muscles and invest in our gear. Actually, "invest" isn't the best word, since our products depreciate faster than that real estate you're holding a sub-prime mortgage on. But that difference does not matter to our female readers. No sireesir. The average woman spends 400 hours a year shopping or nine years over the course of her lifetime. Fully a quarter of that time is spent (note the pun?) on clothing and FCN is loaded with great clothing items.

2) Relationships. When the three of us got together a couple years ago to start writing humor, we didn't strategize ways to fit every sordid detail of our failed love lives onto this site. We simply resolved to tell mostly truthful stories about ourselves and, for some reason, messy relationships, failed dates and poor decisions with women dominated the content. Just about every major series on FCN and many of the minor ones involve a girl. And none of us has a serious girlfriend just yet, so more stories are inevitable.

3) Relationships, continued. If Days of Our Lives couldn't resolve its relationship problems in 43 years, we shouldn't be expected to do so in one paragraph. Guys that are interested in relationship issues are the exception and those are the guys reading FCN. Girls who are interested in relationship issues are the norm, hence the popularity of relationship humor among that demographic. Boy that sounds nerdy.

4) We are just unfathomably cute. Despite the fact that we have never uploaded an unaltered picture of ourselves and the faithful few who don't know us in person have no idea how handsome or ugly we may be, our daring good looks translate well through our writing and attract the opposite gender. C came up with that theory all by himself and he is really, really proud of it, so please don't knock it in the comment section. We haven't figured out why our unfathomably cute looks don't help us out in our real lives, but we maintain confidence in this theory nonetheless.

5) FCN offers a rare glimpse into the mind of a college male. Granted, that glimpse is also offered in most popular media, television, music and movies, but we like to consider FCN unique and valuable despite these ripoffs. Just as we watch chick flicks to understand women, you read FCN to get to know guys. Our unrestrained honesty is an education for female readers whose friends lack our unwaivering commitment to transparency and are unwilling to submit themselves to embarrassment and self depreciation.

If that doesn't make things crystal clear, I don't know what will. As always, ladies, we appreciate your readership, even if, like so many other things about you, we don't understand it.

Spring Break

It's that time of year again. Students the country over are taking a week off of school to get into untold mischief and generally blow off enough steam to survive the second half of the semester. The smart kids lose a little of their shine and the party animals completely lose it. Teachers, parents and bartenders look the other way as thousands of students perform the timeless rituals associated with this charming break.

Whoever said idle hands are the devils workshop has obviously been to Cancun in mid-March.

As admitted derelicts, we refuse to be left out of the frivolity. And we need an excuse to take a week off. So for the next few days, we will be doing things that will eventually be published here for your titillation. Call it research. If we survive the ordeal, we will post again on Monday, March 17. Until then, don't tell our moms what we're up to.

The Etymology of a post

Special thanks for the aged wisdom, useless flaunt and inane facts provided by Mr. L in preparing this post.

In typical FCN fashion, I will now presume to know how the faithful FCN think. There. I admitted it. You can now burn me in effigy and sacrifice me to the media gods for public ridicule. I submit freely and willingly to your abuse and reserve no right against slander with regard to my admission of presumption. Happy now? Then read the post.

It's very easy to visit a regularly updated humor blog like Funny Class Notes and assume the posts spontaneously generate themselves or that they come to be out of nothing. Some will even argue that our posts are in fact nothing, but that they are carefully packaged and positioned to look like something, but these people don't know the world of hurt they create with their cutting reviews.

Hang on a second while I collect myself.

I am here to dispel that presumed (by me for you) myth (the one about spontaneously generating posts; the question of whether or not FCN is "nothing" is still open, sniff) and give you an inside look into the etymology of FCN's content - or lack thereof.

Posts begin as little light bulbs that go off inside a contributor's head. This is the equivalent of the twinkle in your grandfather's eye idiom. The light bulb is completely unpredictable, although it usually goes off in times of complete and utter boredom like during class (as opposed to while lying in bed or in the shower). The average FCN contributor has a light bulb go off anywhere from seven to eight hundred times per day, but we are so lazy that we rarely write more than one post per day. All the other light bulbs dissolve in our heads, turn to gray mush and join the rest of the junk in our brains.

You are what you eat, my eight hundred dissolved light bulbs!

If the illuminated light bulb is strong enough to compel a post to be written, the writing invariably occurs clandestinely during class. Instead of texting our friends we write humor, but the result is the same. The scribbled note is usually nicely adorned with doodles that don't translate well to the blog format. We would scan more of our doodles for you to see, but, quite frankly, if you think we don't make good humorists, you should see our drawing.

In the case of F, who does not sit in class, he writes posts at work while his supervisor has his back turned.

When a paper version of a post has been prepared in huggermugger fashion, it still needs to be typed up. N once tried putting his note between the lid and the keyboard on his computer overnight in the hope that the CPU would incorporate the content by osmosis. Not only did it not work, the post actually broke his laptop!

Since N's experience, we have been typing up posts by hand, a practice that is as tedious as it sounds.

Once a post is typed, it needs to be scanned for the blog, an electronic process controlled entirely by Uncle Wally. History will never know what devious methods Wally uses to format posts for publication, but we are sure that if his deeds were public knowledge he would either be given the Noble Prize or incarcerated for insanity. We retain hope for the prize.

One thing we can tell you is that Uncle Wally has developed a Macro which searches the internet for a random photograph using search terms culled from the blog. The photo is automatically cropped and rehosted and is hidden from the FCN contributors until the time of publication. We therefore are unable to take responsibility for any offense taken at our graphics.

Sometimes Uncle Wally's methods cause digital disturbances in our posts. The problems can manifest themselves as anything from a spelling error to a major grammar faux pas. These "mistakes" were never present when the post was originally written by FCN, but are universally and without exception the fault of Uncle Wally.

The next step in the crawl toward publication is the mandatory censorship. Every line of every post is carefully weighed, debated and analyzed by the loving mothers of the FCN contributors and Mommy G. You can therefore blame them for anything that gets through the Mom filter.

What follows next is lovingly dubbed "fermentation" but, in other circumstances, is called bureaucratic delay. Like a starving actor waiting for his big break, posts need to sit in a hopper, patiently attending an opening in our busy posting schedule. When the time comes, the post zips out of the queue like a baby from the womb and nestles in among all the others.

FCN posts are, then, mechanized. We are a humor machine, not unlike Gene Gene. We approach comedy with the calculated air of Hal, except we are not as prone to practical jokes. You are reading a prefabricated product of the post-consumer society, a recycled and rehashed content that has more calories than nutrition. In the humor world, FCN is the freezer burn laden processed food.

But, unlike Harry Truman, the buck doesn't stop here; we always have someone to blame.

1st Do It Yourself Post

Ever since we phased out full-length Wednesday posts, we've been dependably getting comments from regular readers reminding us that Life Tips and Notes to Self "don't count." It's been so regular and dependable we've actually taking to setting our watches based on the "don't count" comments.

"Hey, adrialien just told us that wasn't a real post. My watch is 3 minutes fast!"
"Well, it's nine o'clock. Where's batman?"

Much as we love the normal routine, we thought we should consider shaking things up some. The obvious choice was to just start posting Wednesdays again just like any other day. But we don't want to do that. We have all kinds of great reasons, the last one of which is actually true:

- Wednesdays are unlucky.
- We want to shake things up.
- We don't have enough content.
- Wednesday is the day when the the fish of the sea were created.
- We're too lazy.

So, in lieu of a standard post, we'd like to give folks like adrialien and batman (and the rest of you) a chance to make the post yourself. You don't even need a post idea. We'll take care of (almost) everything. Here's how it works: we'll post a short something - usually just a single sentence - including at least one blank spot. You'll complete the post by commenting with the completed phrase. We'll always kick things off with the first comment (unless you're really really quick and comment between the time we post and the time we comment - for which you get brownie points) to give you an idea how it works.

The more people participate, the better this works, so don't be shy. You don't need to be clever. Look at us. We've been running this blog for eons in blog-time and we didn't have to be clever. We just posted something and eventually people came and read it and went lol at it. That process was repeated ten times - count them - times. So comment. It takes fifteen seconds and when you're done people will say good things about you and flowers will grow and birds will sing.

Well, enough with the preliminaries. Let's make a post!

__________ is the new __________.