FCN is looking to hire a web designer

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, we are getting ready to make like a Hollywood chauvinist and kick Uncle Wally to the curb. We are prepared to pull up our proverbial USB cables and LAN lines and settle in elsewhere. This is a major step for us laze prone derelicts, but one we have determined is necessary. Our style conscious moms, fed up at last with the site's drab formatting and unimaginative organization have pressed us to get the thing redesigned. And, like a pansy in a Taco Bell ad, we are ready to succumb to their remonstrations.

Uncle Wally did a great job and will continue to work for FCN to keep the comments running and the hit counter accurate, but we are looking for some improved HTML programming (see? Even FCN can use four-letter acronyms) . Uncle Wally was born before the internet age and his concept of design is as antiquated as the U of Michigan T-shirt he wears on the weekends. He is a great guy with an excellent personality, but something went wrong with his color pallet shortly after birth. Just between us, we don't think he was breastfed.

Here at FCN, we pride ourselves on being cheap. A trip to the movies on discount matinée often turns into a train of "also saws," until the midnight premier when the ticket checker goes on a bathroom break (hehe). We always get samples at Cold Stone before ordering the smallest size and we go to Costco hungry for a reason. Even on holiday, buying the clam chowder on Fisherman's Warf is a big waste of money when they give away so many tiny "tastes" of the stuff. I can't even remember the last time I laundered this pair of socks - or is that too much information?

I am getting the TMI signal from the booth. So I'll stop.

Anyway, FCN is ready to pay cold hard Federal Reserve Notes (or, as Ron Paul calls them, debt certificates) in exchange for assistance redesigning the page. How many luscious greenbacks and the amount of work required to earn them are all up for negotiation. Thus, we fade to the blue "infomercial end" screen and put up the relevant contact information:

Email us at FunnyClassNotes - at - gmail - dot - com and give us your pitch.

What sites have your designed? What kind of starvation wages are you willing to draw for your labor? How many cyber acronyms can you rattle off in a minute? Can you lock one contributor out while giving the password to the other two? Would you do so for a little extra cash? Do you know how to hack the Daily Kos? Who is hotter, Audrey Hepburn in "Breakfast at Tiffany's" or Maureen O'Hara in "Frontier Gal?"

The answer to these questions, no matter how irrelevant they seem, will determine your compatibility with FCN.

As far as the changes we have in mind, they are largely up to the developer. Do you want to see zebra stripes on the main page or slap Nancy Pelosi's mug on the title bar? Be our guest. Do you want to make the comment hyperlink move away from the mouse when readers from certain IP addresses try to comment? Give it a shot. Do you want to make our color scheme pink and put Amy Winehouse music on in the background after the page loads? We will still pay you. As long as the changes look expensive and give FCN a veneer of quality, we will be happy.

What are you waiting for? Send us an email!

The Top Ten Threats to America

There are a lot of people saying a lot of things about this country and it's time we sat down and cleared the air a bit.

1) Badly popped popcorn getting stuck in the back of your throat. Pieces of popcorn shell are like danger on a stick, the only difference being that they're not on a stick. We would discourage thinking too hard about that one.

2) Mothers-in-law. We're talking some major scariness here. Now many of us have great mother-in-laws and/or are great mother-in-laws and or know great mother-in-laws, etc, etc, and those sorts of things and such stuff and all the rest, and whatnot. But the fact is, mother-in-laws are scary people no matter what. I mean, they're the mothers of your spouse! That is, they are the mother of your spouse. She is the mother of your spouses.

See. Scary.

3) Orbital bombardment. Imagine if some massively advanced alien race showed up in the sky and started raining super-hot plasma bombs all over everywhere, scorching whole continents into glass and debris. We'd launch ICBMs back at them but the missiles would just bounce off their shielding and fall back onto the planet and blow up and kill more of us. That would seriously just ruin the entire day. It would probably be best to sleep in if that happened and miss the whole thing.

4) This isn't my toothbrush. If you share a bathroom with someone you know what we're talking about here.

5) Bermuda grass. Also known as cynodon or dog-tooth grass, this stuff spreads like spilt milk and is only slightly harder to get rid of than the entire Asian landmass. It has been known to hide in bushes or behind corners and jump out on unsuspecting passerby, scaring the smoothie out of them.

6) Death. We bet you didn't expect to see that one on the list! But it's a simple fact that death is very dangerous and rather widespread. About 155,000 people die every day. Don't think it can't happen to you. After all, as Cal Naughton, Jr so aptly pointed out in a movie we definitely did not see: "98% of us will die at some point in our lives."

7) Snickers bars. That's right. Snickers bars. You didn't realize that every time you bit into a Snickers you were contributing to one of the top ten threats to America now did you? We didn't think so. Well now you know. Don't let it happen again.

8) Dance Dance Revolution. It was invented by evil people specifically to take over the world. And that's exactly what it's doing. We know because we saw someone standing outside GameStop earlier today with a sign reading:

"DANCE DANCE REVOLUTION WAS INVENTED BY EVIL PEOPLE SPECIFICALLY TO TAKE OVER THE WORLD. AND THAT'S EXACTLY WHAT IT'S DOING."

9) Stubbed toes. Just when you're really on a roll and you're off doing something, kachow! you're on the floor clutching your toesie-woesies and looking for someone to strangle. Yet another reason you should have slept in today.

10) We can't say. We know what the 10th threat is but we can't post it here because, well, this is a family friendly blog - or at least it is during the week. Let's just say that the number one threat to America starts with "Daily" and rhymes with "boss." Hint.

I'm baaaaaaaaaack: The 'F' in 'FCN' Returns!

Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to FCN.

That's right, FCN. Not CN, but FCN, which stands for Fight like Chuck Norris or Freaky College Nerds. Or Free Core Nutation, Florida Center for Nursing or Force Change Now. Sorry to disappoint, but our beloved contributor has returned from his unexplained tour of Scandinavia and the sub-continent (to say nothing of the Orient), and is now ready to reassume the mantle as one of the most pathetic writers in the blogosphere, second only to his fellow contributors and the dudes at the Daily Kos.

I was gone for five weeks, and a lot happened while I was gone.

Before proceeding, I'd like to reflect in a vague, unhelpful way on the fact that I just switched from referring to myself in the third person to doing so in the first. Third person sounds more professional, first sounds more personal. The agony of decision. At least I don't have to worry about consistency anymore. On with the post.

A lot happened while I was gone, not including keeping up with CN (now FCN, for all of you with continuity complexes). I didn't read a single thing from this blog in my absence and, from looking at the hit counter, so did most everybody else. When I got back, I skimmed the titles and noticed with displeasure that only a paltry handful of my works were worthy of being considered classics. My fellow contributors assured me that the selection process was completely scientific and unbiased, so I guess I can't complain. Still, something seems fishy.

Enough of this. Let's cut to the chase.

I found a new stylist.

My hair was sprouting off in all directions, thank goodness. I was well on my way to undoing the damage caused by my well-meaning but incompetent former stylist. I could shake my head, and my luscious locks would flutter around, much to my satisfaction. I began to get careless and unruly. I quit shaving. I stopped doing anything to my hair after the toweling stage. Then, I collapsed under the pressure and stole a beanie from one of my homies while he was looking the other way (at a fruit snack, of all things). It was clear that I needed a trim - just a little something to get my hair back into presentable condition. Enter V. E., an amateur snipper with the mad h@x0r skills of a seasoned hair dressing veteran. I don't know where she got it, but she had the technical know-how to do Nancy Pelosi's hair, and trust me, I don't say that lightly. I wouldn't let just anyone mess with dear Nancy's image.

So I knelt down in a badly embattled hallway and explained to friend V exactly - and I do mean EXACTLY - what I wanted. She proceeded to give me exactly - yes, EXACTLY - what I, you know, wanted. I went into the men's restroom and did a double take. I looked good. I mean, I looked way good. My ruggedly handsome visage was so knock-down stunning I nearly lost it right there. Whatever it is.

Anyway, I was pleased. My five weeks spent away from home were well-rewarded. If I ever need another cut (and that is a distinct possibility), I know exactly where I'm going. So consider yourself warned, FCN readers: I'm here only as long as the hair is.

And that's the story of my trip. No, nothing else really worth mentioning happened. Not one piddly little thing. Seriously.

Ninth Reader!

Uncle Wally blessed my morning with some excellent news. He's been keeping close tabs on CN's readership information since we rebuked him for falling behind on it late last May and his vigilance has paid off. Today we celebrate our 9^th unique visitor since we moved to this domain nine months ago. The growth rate of one unique visitor per month is the fastest of any of my previous writing endeavors and we are elated with the numbers. Nine visitors also means that there are three readers for every writer on CN (or will be when Desperate Student returns from his Orangatan Dung (OD) expedition).

The ninth unique reader is a testament to CN's resilience. Despite a cyber-napping onslaught from Really Funny Class Notes and a week of re-runs, the CN family is still adding new members.

As soon as he got the signal, Uncle Wally initiated the tracing procedures that have proven successful at pinpointing the location of new readers in the past. We like to know what kind of people are reading our blog because it makes us feel better about ourselves and because it's like spying on your personal life through the Internet. In that regard, it makes us feel like Google.

In order to help us fulfill these carnal desires, Uncle Wally hooks a 9 volt Duracell battery to a light bulb that is designed to handle a smaller voltage. He closes the circuit by connecting the light bulb to a two way radio and then turns the radio on quickly. By short circuiting the whole connection, Wally is able to blow the bulb and create a small energy wave which actually enters the Internet like a radar ping. The closer he is to a DSL connection, the fewer light bulbs Wally has to waste to get this to actually work. Any new readers who happen to be reading CN reflect this ping and send back to Wally. Our Uncle will then use a cybermetric scale and a stopwatch to determine with reasonable accuracy where the reader is from and pass the data on to us.

As a side note, if the energy wave were any more powerful it would act like an E bomb, tearing blogs off the web like so many papers off a bulletin board. We are saving up to purchase a light bulb big enough to blast away Daily Kos, but we'll keep you informed of our progress.

We were beginning to think the system was broken because our readership wasn't growing and some in our midst were concerned that maybe the whole logic of reverse pinging the World Wide Web is a load of TooTee HuWee Bollucks. This new information is a reaffirmation of the utility of the system and a Uncle Wally deserves a huge pat on the back for his groundbreaking work.

As far as our Ninth Reader is concerned, we know virtually nothing about her. We don't even know for a fact that she is a “her,” but we think it's safe to assume given that most of our readers to date have been male and we're about due for a female reader. Uncle Wally's Ingenious Pinging Reverse (or IPR, as he likes to refer to it) was foiled by an ingenious system he believes could only have been developed by the United States Government.

Wally's ping was returned in a mangled state. It looked as if someone had laid down on top of it in a bath tub full of water and used the hairdryer. Any information about gender, location or favorite colors were completely and utterly eviscerated by a catastrophic event. We can only hope the reader survived.

Uncle Wally, heart of gold that he has, prepared a graphic that shows what we know about the new reader. We reproduced it below:

Here at CN, we are elated with the regular growth this blog has experienced. Nine readers is probably fewer readers than most of the 50 million plus blogs out there, but we are growing and we are satisfied with where we are.

To our Ninth Reader we say, welcome to Funny Class Notes! Please have a look around and get to know the site. If you are the new reader and want to let us in on who you are, what your IP address is and what kind of browser you run so we can customize the page to you, please fire us an email and let us know. Or you can leave a comment at the bottom of this post.

To those who have been part of the faithful few for longer, thank you for being loyal to this site and laughing at our jokes and being such an awesome gang of readers. There may not be many of you, but you guys are the best readers any blog could ever ask for.

Or, because you're not supposed to end sentences with prepositions is it "you guys are the best readers for whom any blog could ever ask"? Gotta love the flow of that sentence.

I know, AWWWW and happy sighs, but seriously, pat yourself on the back. You too, Uncle Wally.

/Vacation

Well, we're back.

And four days earlier than we promised, too. We had to rush to give Em her lifeline; hey, she was dieing. It's OK. We're back now.

It's been a great vacation. Although, Em didn't like it so much. Wait, was that email off the record, too?

If you assumed by looking at the picture on our “going on vacation post” that we were visiting a touristy island with a palm tree and blue waters and recharging our batteries with all the amenities of the modern vacation, you were wrong. You know what they say about assumptions. We didn't go to Zimbabwe. That's where we thought we were going, but our flight was redirected to Belton, Texas, which is directly between Mexico and the nearest stoplight.

Actually, we drove. Cody is now officially really, really bad at following directions.

After over 4,000 miles of driving, lots of heavy breakfast on Route 66 diners and a serious case of the back seat flabs (if you don't already know, please don't ask), the FCN team is reassembled in sublime center of the sunny central valley of California.

Belton was the site of the NCFCA 2007 National Tournament. To select Belton, the league inputted the names of every city in the United States into an excel macro and randomly chose one. We showed up on the first day of the tournament wearing FCN shirts, but we got nothing but cruel remarks (and some genuinely snide remarks), so we didn't go back for the rest of the week. Our artistic souls can't handle that kind of negativity.

For those of you who didn't know from the details description above, Belton is about 40 miles from Crawford. That's right, it's right smack dab in the middle of Bush country. A casual conversation with an acquaintance brought this fact to the fore of our collective consciousness (not that we believe in the collective consciousness) and we ended up driving out to see W's digs. This is yet another example of how dangerous casual conversations can be.

As we approached Bush's house, we saw large orange traffic signs on either side of the road with imposing warnings like:

NO STOPPING

NO SLOWING

NO STARING

NO SPEEDING

NO SMOKING

NO DRIVE-BY-SHOOTING

Large cameras made no attempt to hide the fact that we were being surveyed. A drone airplane was, no doubt, overhead, and and I could barely make out the outlines of the automatic weapons hidden in the brush. As we got nearer, we saw the broken bodies of tourists who had not heeded the warnings littering the side of the road.

The actual house wasn't that impressive – it was apparently built during a down turn in the oil economy – but the helicopter hanger, communication antennae and black armored Humvees were something else. We didn't get close enough to entice anything FCN worthy, but our imagination ran wild with possibilities.

As our car was just inching its way past the driveway, the door to the house opened and Laura Bush emerged, waiving her hands for me to stop the car. We pointed sheepishly to the “keep driving” sign and remembered the swollen carcasses. We were torn between the desire to stop and see the First Lady and the desire to survive. Life is full of hard choices.

As if reading our minds, a male voice announced over the loudspeaker that the driver of the FCNMobile had “special dispensation” to disobey the rules. We decided to play along.

A uniformed security guard acted as a valet, swiftly navigating my car into the shade of the hanger. Another guard scanned us with a sci-fi device that looked like it belonged in Mission Impossible, not Texas. A third man conducted an invasive tap down search that was more painful than productive. We didn't have guns, but now, in retrospect, we don't think that he cared.

Mrs. Bush was a charming and very hospitable woman. She fixed a pot of Earl Grey while explaining that her husband was on his way home from the G8 Summit and that she regretted we wouldn't get a chance to meet him. We, in turn, struggled to maintain our end of the conversation. We tried to listen, but it seemed she wanted us to talk. It's a shame we didn't have a tape recorder, so we could relate the conversation back to you all verbatim, but alas and alack! our feeble memory will have to do...

Laura (she insisted we be on a first name basis): So I read on your blog you were coming out to my neck of the woods and I would be remiss if I didn't invite you in for some refreshments.

FCN: That's very kind of you, Laura, we were...wait, you read FCN?

Laura: Ever since Cindy Sheehan stopped jamming our Internet. You guys are some serious losers.

And we can't remember what was said after that, but the conversation lasted about a half-hour.

There are, of course, many more tales from our vacation left to be told. We spent a night on an Indian Reservation, ate at a real Mexican meal in El Peso and had a televised argument in the Texas statehouse – ok, so maybe it wasn't televised. We made a few friends and lost a couple (and by a couple, we mean quite a few, and by quite a few, I mean we would now be hiring bodyguards if they didn't come free). All in all, it was a great vacation, but boy is it good to be back. The next few posts may have some oblique references to the past few week's activity, but generally speaking, FCN is back and back to normal.

We had extensive discussions about the future of FCN, which were lubricated by quarts and quarts of lukewarm sweet tea. We discussed almost every topic conceivable, but about the only thing we could really agree on was that we need to do more of these vacation thingies.

Thanks to all of you who commented on the last post and who took the time to return to FCN today after our absence and Cody's request that you not do so. We were flattered by the high number of comments, which exceeded that of the previous 200 FCN posts put together. We hereby pat ourselves on the back, and promise that we will take your nominations into consideration as we craft our classics collection.

As a post script, our survey results revealed that most of you used the downtime from FCN to get married. Masoltov. Why weren't we invited to the reception?

It's good to be back. Look out, Daily Kos. Here we come.

Vacation!

Yes, even a passel of derelict students – especially a passel of derelict students – need to take some time off now and then to rewind the clock and unwind. Well, okay. Mabe just unwind. Actually, I never really understood those two idioms. Anyway, the entire FCN staff is taking two weeks of uninterrupted vacation time. Beginning today and continuing until the 25^th of June (a Monday, if my little calenderfolio isn't playing another practical joke on me), there will be no new FCN content.

We will be lounging around a pool catching an early Melanoma demise and will be completely unplugged from any kind of computer equipment. Travis has even promised to turn off the microchip in the back of his left eye that uses electrical impulses from his cerebral cortex to aim his first-person shooter weapons. Anyway, you can email us and get our snazzy vacation auto-reply or you can comment and reach us that way, but unless Nancy Pelosi declares her Presidential candidacy or Paris Hilton gets out of prison, we won't come out early to blog.

I know, these will be dark days. Probably darker for us than you, but dark nonetheless. We will think regularly of you, the Faithful FCN Few and will write a few tomes now and again about our adventures – because adventures we will have. We might even post them...after we return.

To help pass the time between now and the 25th, please pick out your favorite post from FCN's history. We'll be doing a Classics special a few weeks after our return and we want to know which posts you liked the most. Simply tell us in the comment section of this post which is your entry is your fav. If you want to dig out the link, we'd be appreciative, but we think we know our own writing well enough to find it with a few descriptive adjectives. Yeah, better provide the link.

(As a small ego aside, try to pick my posts. I haven't talked with the other writers about this - and I'd appreciate it if you didn't pass it along - but it would really help my self esteem to know that you all approve my writing, even if the competition is what it is. I've been having kind of a rough week. If you could just give me a little boost that would really be sweet of you. But I never said that.)

Thanks guys, as always, for reading and commenting on our site. I really don't know why you keep reading; but you do. Your loss.

(As another small aside that I haven't consulted with the other guys on, this short vacation would be a great opportunity to leave FCN behind. If you're having trouble quitting - those DailyKos patches are ineffective and cold turkey left you with the shakes - take the time to quit this time. Flee like you're running from a DEA record narcotics stash and never come back (wait, was that a drug related joke?). Again, this is just between us, but I really feel not returning on the 25th is a wise course of action. Think about, will you?)

See you in a couple weeks!

Cindy Sheehan is a Filthy Quitter

Caution: This post is not very nice to Cindy...

Almost two years ago, a Heroine of audacious tenacity, the Matron Saint of Peace Advocacy reacted to the violent loss of Her son to protest our country’s invasion of Iraq. This advocate raised the white flag and waived it militantly. She protested what She saw as a travesty of justice by purchasing a small tract of land adjacent to our President’s ranch plot and setting up a camp on that property which She named after Her late son.

She then joined on the talk show, TV and late night circuses, collecting support for Her cause and rallying Her anti-war troops. She called out the Commander-in-Chief to explain Her son’s demise and threatened both major political parties with exposure. More than just threaten, She actually exposed, digging up some dirt and lobbying in favor the changes She felt were necessary.

Then, with little warning and no named successor, Cindy Sheehan quit. On Memorial Day of all days, Sheehan said She had “failed” her late son and would now be packing up her fliers, bumper stickers, hats, pins and triangular flags and leaving Texas and maybe the USA altogether.

Sheehan says Her departure is due to slanderous and hurtful comments from the political left. She could take flak from the right but not from the left. She said She felt She’d been double crossed. Some in Her entourage claim the promise of an especially warm Al Gore summer was the last straw. Other’s felt it had something to do with a tempting offer from PETA. But regardless of her rationale, the Human Dove (Bar) is leaving tens of hundreds of faithful protesters without a leader.

It’s like the disappointment of Lindsey Lohan collapsing during a drunken cocaine binge or Rachel Smith falling on stage during the evening gown portion of the Miss World competition – we are sorry not to see the glamorous conclusion of Your efforts.

The army of peace has lost its Head; the battalion is without a Commanding Officer.

C’mon Cindy! Leading an underground political movement isn’t like smoking; You don’t have to quit. Just because You’ve been betrayed by the left doesn’t mean You are justified in betraying them back.

Where will the dried up hippies who’ve found new life and moisture under Your leadership flock now? What will become of the Leave Iraq activists who used Your movement as a way to release long suppressed tensions? Will the social miscreants who found purpose under Your banner have to return to bum-dom or will another leader rise from the ashes to call out our president? Who will this Phoenix be and how do You know his motives will be as pure as Yours?

Here at FCN, we think You’re a filthy quitter. Your son gave the ultimate sacrifice in a cause he thought was right and just – he’s a hero, no question – and You tried to make his life into something new after his demise. You tried, but You quit.

Go now. Leave. Fee to Canada, France or the Caribbean or wherever it is defeated leftists reside when the smoke clears.

Have a good life. And please don’t come back in a few months on an Anniversary tour to release a few birds and deliver some tired Bush jokes. You’re yesterday’s news. You’re a filthy quitter. And we don’t like You anymore.

Seventh and Eighth Reader!

Two days ago was an historical day in FCN history: we logged our seventh and eighth readers. At first we thought Uncle Wally hadn't checked his counter in a while or his calibration was out of whack; nothing else seemed to explain the readerplosion. On further, CSI type inspection, we discovered that not only was the information accurate, but our two additional readers were from the same general location.

At first, we thought we were receiving a super powerful signal from one computer, but a piece of bailing wire, a toothpick and a watch battery revealed that we were actually the recipient of two distinct signals from the same household or general area.

In the past our readership had increased one reader at a time. A visitor from outerspace joined us and was followed some two and a half months later by one from Zimbabwe. Maybe we're seeing evidence of FCN missionaries carrying FCN tales around like so many honey bees. Or, perhaps, the attractive lifestyle of the derelict is finally seeing its heyday.

We were going to write something really snazzy for our seventh reader, about how seven was the number of perfection and reason and how the number looks like a coiled cobra or a “one” turned backward. We were going to mention that seven is the fourth prime number, second safe prime, second lucky prime, first Woodall prime, third Lucas prime, first Newman -Shanks- Williams prime and fourth factorial prime. We were going to say how ironic it is that seven is both a Carol and Kynea number. We were going to remark that seven both a happy number and self number.

Maybe it's just best we skipped all that; it might have gotten too deep and mathematical.

We couldn't think of anything cool for eight; it's just another even multiple of two that can be divided by four and one. It is, however, one greater than seven, so we are glad to have it instead of its predecessor.

We don't know the names of our two new readers – the Internet is funny like that – but we do know their location – the Internet is, well, funny like that. The map below was generated by our specialized software and is therefore grainy and so zoomed out that the red location glob covers three states. It does, however, tell us that our two new readers are from the heart of the American Midwest and it's always great to see hometown proud Americans on a humor blog run by a passel of left coasters.

But I digress; here's the map:

The occurrence of two singles living so close together that they emit the same signal is so slim that we can practically assume that our two new readers are married.

Since we don't know our reader's names, we are forced to guess. A typical American female name is Jane. A typical American male name is Dick. Dick is, of course, short for Richard and Jane is short for Janeesha.

Since the signal comes from the mid-west (the Nebraska, Kansas, Colorado, Missouri area), we can infer that our new readers are moral people who regularly model proper citizenship virtues. They rise at 0500 (or at least they checked FCN at 0500) and milk their cows promptly thereafter. They have few vices, but FCN is proud to be one of them.

In short, they are live reenactments of Grant Wood's Gothic American:

At our current rate of growth, our old calculation of 79 million years until we take DailyKos by storm may have been a couple million off. It's looking more like 76,590,928...and counting!

As always, thanks for reading and commenting. With such awesome and active readers, it's almost as if our blog had many more faithful few than it actually does. Almost.

FCN vs Daily Kos

We know you think we're just a small, homely blog somewhere on the corner of 5th and Obscurity in a tiny town at the edge of cyberspace. Well, we're not, and we have scientific evidence to prove it.

The Google Fight program is an extremely sophisticated program that harnesses the Google search engine to pit two entities together in a virtual fight. After the complex algorithm is completed, the program shows a readout indicating who won and by how much.

FCN decided to put this program to the test to get the nitty-gritty truth about how we're faring against our direct, high-profile competitors over at the Daily Kos (we'd give you a link, but yeah. Site traffic and all that). We were pleasantly suprised by the results.

Check it out for yourself.

Of course, with positive findings like that, we just had to keep going. We found encouraging news about our position in the universe, and then got down to what the three of us were really dying to know. The first fight showed positive results, but the final test appears totally inconclusive and we suspect there might have been an error in the fight methodology related to the interaction of letter order matrixes and common text strings on time gradients. And by we, I mean me.

A few other interesting fights:

Desperate Student vs His Employer

Nancy Pelosi vs America

Hillary vs Bill

Tom Cruise vs Katie Holmes

XBOX vs PC

The End of FCN

We are saddened to announce that, effective tomorrow, Funny Class Notes will be shutting down. Our site will be eliminated, torn from the internet, scrubbed from the web, kaput. There will be no more Funny Class Notes; the drab oblong diatribes of the DailyKos will be the only palatable humor in the blogosphere. That's right, we are going away.

If you've followed us as authors for any period of time, you will understand that we lead very busy lives and probably have a decent excuse for shutting down a humor blog, even if it has garnered a following of five readers. But we aren't quitting because we don't have time to write; we're quitting because we don't have anything to write. That's right, we are plum out of ideas. We're drier than Nancy Pelosi counting roll. We've reached the bottom of the barrel, the end of the road, the last lizard in the zoo. To top it off, Holly doesn't like us.

It's been a wonderful journey, through the social critiques, expert advice, sports reports, generalizations, lame jokes, life tips, episodes of the Desperate Student, and true stories. We've come a long way since we were founded back in 1821, including moving through 4 google pages accounts, the last of which had a reader. We will miss every unwritten word that calls to us during our classes, and every eloquent response that we never read. We will even miss the ineloquent and insulting comments, some of which were awesome in a piquesh sort of way.

That said, Daniel has one more thing he wants to write before we do shut it down and I'd hate to pull the rug out from under him and remove his audience. Check back in tomorrow for the final bow of FCN and our last ever post. 'Till then, so long, farewell and I bid you all adieu (which is French for "you have beautiful eyes").

It's been a great year, and we wish all five of you the very best.

We love you guys,

The FCN Team

PS. Don't forget to delete your bookmarks!