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.

FCN Hijacked by "Faithful" Reader

Los Angeles, CA - As the cyber world slept peacefully this morning, the popular humor blog Funny Class Notes was being hijacked. The crime ocurred at approximately 5:17am, although experts say it is impossible to know the exact time.

At first, FCN assumed their arch-rivals - err, friends - at RFCN had stolen their password, but after conducting several hours of interrogation comme Jack Bauer, they concluded that RFCN was not responsible for committing the crime of the century.

Confused, but determined to discover the perpetrator, FCN consulted Uncle Wally, who decided, through means too complicated for your correspondent to understand, that the primary suspect is none other than FCN's fifth reader.

"We are deeply hurt by this, presumed, betrayal from one of FCN's faithful few," F said. "We hope that our fifth reader, whomever he/she is, will repent quickly and restore the blog to its rightful owners."

Others among the FCN faithful few have decided to remove the fifth reader from their ranks and relegate him/her to what, they say, is his/her rightful place among the "faithless few."

Mommy G, however, encouraged FCN's readers not to be too hasty. "Let's not forget that Uncle Wally has identified the 5th reader only as the possible perpetrator. Remember readers, no one is guilty until proven guilty."

Nice alliteration, Mommy G.

Others already ranked among the faithless few include, but are not limited to, anyone who contributes to RFCN, anyone who reads RFCN, and anyone who criticizes FCN.

"On second thought, maybe they should be called the 'faithless many,'" N said in a last-minute phone interview.

C was unavailable for comment, but your correspondent received the following note from an undisclosed source:

"I am livid. When I find out who took over our site, I am going to pound them into the ground. I am going to play the piano when they're trying to sleep. I am going to make them watch reruns of Dancing With the Stars for 3 days straight!"

Anyone with information leading to the discovery and subsequent pwning of the guilty party is asked to email FCN at funnyclassnotes at gmail dot com.

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 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.

A Songwriter's Take on Stockton

One of FCN's contributors was recently named humor columnist for his school's newspaper, The Pacifican. As prodigious as that sounds (and it really does have the ring of prodigy), the new position has fewer readers than even the lowly Funny Class Notes, which is saying something. It also means a whole new passel of editors, each of whom is infinitely more irritating than the other FCN writers (which, again, is saying something), will have to peruse his work before it goes to print.

A little disclaimer: These columns are written for a slightly different format than FCN. First, the nature of the publication encourages local topics and humor that may not be even remotely stimulating for those reading outside the target area. You'll have to either smile and play along or go visit Google News when the local material is discussed. Second, they still haven't figured out a way to make newspapers carry hyperlinks. I wrote the New York Times months ago about this problem and not only did they do nothing about it, they didn't publish my letter. To solve this problem, you can imagine the hyperlink by printing out the column and underlining any text that probably would have a link if published online.

The Pacifican's editor-in-chief tells us that some of the columns will be posted online, but if the IT guys at school are as inconsistent as Uncle Wally, many of them will be in print only. When the internet is benevolent, we will try to pass the article onto you.

Here's the latest column:

Forbes Magazine is famous for sponsoring riveting popularity contests based on arbitrary criteria. “The World’s Most Expensive Whiskeys” presents several pricey ways to get drunk, including Macallan Fine & Rare, aged since 1926 and sold at $3,600 a shot. With a price like that, I’m going to need another...

Click here to keep reading "A Songwriter's Take on Stockton."

Season's Greetings!

It's that time of year again.

It's a time for people across the nation to be consumed in a vague sense of excitement and cheeriness.

It's a time for Wal-Mart to make a quarter of it's annual sales.

It's a time for the streets around the malls to clog.

It's a time to have family reunions with people you pretend to like.

It's a time for cheery winter songs.

It's a time for sleigh rides.

It's a time for turkey.

It's a time to buy presents for everyone you know.

It's a time to get presents from people who don't know you well enough.

It's a time that gets pushed deeper and deeper into November every year.

FCN refuses to get left behind. Last year we did almost nothing for the holidays, and what we did was decidedly intolerant of those who don't recognize this rather narrow celebration. This year, we're doing it right. Uncle Wally repainted the site with generic holiday colors to highlight this festive attitude.

We're not celebrating any holiday per se. We're celebrating The Holidays. We're celebrating That Time of Year Again. We're happy to be happy. We're celebrating to celebrate. It is only in this broader sense that we can hope to appeal to everyone and offend no one.

And so, from all of us here at FCN, we want to wish you a holiday season as happy as this greeting is enigmatic.

Enforcement of the Authority of the Certificate of Authenticity

Here's the short version of a long story: Mommy G hounded us about fraudulent comments all week. At first we were able to placate her with meaningless buzz phrases like: "I appreciate your concern," and later: "We'll get right on it." But eventually she threatened to cut the flow of brownies, and we immediately held an emergency staff meeting to determine what was to be done. The decision was unanimous, thanks in large part to the silent but conspicuous presence of Mommy G and her wooden spoon in the corner of the room.

Uncle Wally has been ordered to delete all comments from fake Mommy Gs starting the moment this post goes online. In addition, all comments from fake Mommy Gs from before this post are to be deleted at Uncle Wally's leisure.

It's been a great run, you guys. We'll tell you honestly: we found the whole thing absolutely hysterical (but don't tell Mommy G we said so). But when you stand between us and the brownies, something has got to give. And while we may not be able to tell the difference, Uncle Wally and his nifty snifty formula can. So beware, fraudulent fraudsters everywhere. Your Mommy G days are over.

In other news, we were recently asked to create a way for other FCN fans, friends, and family to put their own names on the Certificate. We have provided just such a way. If you're interested (Trevor, you should be reading carefully right around here), just send an email to FunnyClassNotes@Gmail.com and explain how you meet the following criteria:

1) FCN Reader
2) Regular commenter with blogger profile (provide a link)
3) In danger of being fraudulated or fraudulized, I didn't have time to consult a dictionary.

Of course, even if you meet none of these criteria, you can still make it on. Our integrity can be bought pretty cheaply. Money talks. Also brownies.

Would the real Mommy G please take a bow?

I would first like to say that this is my first post on this blog, and I am very excited about that. My nephews have not treated me with much respect, but they are finally letting me speak for myself. I am very happy about this. Did I mention that I was very excited to be posting?

The FCN Team asked me to get to the bottom of the Mommy G problem so our readers would know who they could trust (which apparently means beg for brownies). I have created an authentication system so everyone can know who is in and who is out. Let me explain how it works and then how to use it.

It works by first assuming that given users have characteristics T1:Tn which indicate identities. The parameter d is a dampening factor that can be set between 0 and 1. I usually set d to 0.85. I define C(A) as the number of characteristics stemming from the user. So the identity breakdown of user A is given as follows:

I(A) = (1-d) + d(I(T1)/C(T1)+...+I(Tn)/C(Tn))

Identity of I(A) can be calculated using a simple iterative algorithm which corresponds to the principal eigenvector of the normalized characteristic matrix, which can then be scaled according to the centralized networking architecture of the verification system.

Now that you know how it works, let me tell you how to use it.

If the identity of a person is called into question, click on their user name. This will take you to their profile information. At the bottom of the profile, a list of blogs will appear. One of these blogs should be the FCN Certificate of Authenticity (FCNAuthentic.BlogSpot.Com). If no such certificate appears, this person is a fraud.

I have tracked down the real Mommy G by computing alternative identity vectors and cross-referencing them with known and implicit characteristics. The closest match was given the certificate. All Mommy Gs appearing without this certificate presumably serve burnt brownies.

Now if only she would accept my blog invite. 

- Uncle Wally

I'm Sorry*

There was a bit of a ruckus here at FCN headquarters yesterday evening. Contributor C, Contributor N, Mommy G, Uncle Wally, Saint Nicholas, and Elvis (I know - crazy, huh) made a very dramatic entrance through the front door and dragged me, kicking and screaming, away from the keyboard.

We had a long talk, which was punctuated by utensils found in Mommy G's kitchen. I was determined not to cave in to my former colleague's persuasions, and my resolve held firm for about thirty seconds. When C and N broke out the corkscrew and juicer, I caved. In other news, a recent online test indicates that I am ill-suited for clandestine operations.

I told them everything, as if they didn't already know. They made me apologize, which was humiliating. Then I had to stay up very late with Uncle Wally putting FCN back the way it was, which was no easy task, let me tell you, especially when you're not allowed to seek aid from caffeine. Finally, I was made to write this post, and publicly apologize for doing what any one of you would have done under similar circumstances. So here goes.

People of the world, please forgive me for the way I somehow wronged you by foisting my own ideas on you through the perfectly legal and ethical means of writing on my own blog, as I was asked to do by the people who are now forcing me to write this. I realize now that the new FCN is vastly inferior to the old one for reasons that are completely beyond my comprehension and gladly embrace the tried-and-true formula which has proven to be such a miserable failure in the past. I am filled with remorse for the way I deceived you and the rest of the FCN team. Apparently, deceiving means pouring my soul out on a public website, and for some reason, my fellow contributors feel they have the moral authority to chastise me for lying. I am so, so sorry from the bottom of my heart and beg your forgiveness, also from the bottom of my heart, which is where I keep my most sincere sentiments.*

So that's said. As of now, all the old ways and rules of FCN are back in state and you will never hear me complain about it again. I've had my say. Now I'm going to go sit as far as possible from Mommy G and cry for a little while.

------
* not!

Welcome to my World.

It's not FCN anymore. And it's not CN. Now, it's F, which stands for Totally Awesome.

My fellow contributors are both out of state. They left me trusting messages like "our baby is in your hands," and "We have some unfinished posts you can touch up and use."

Well, I'm not using their posts, thank you. And I'm pinching the baby. FCN is all mine until Monday, and I intend to have some fun. You've seen those hacked websites with big red letters carrying some obscene message until the admins get back into the code and fix it? Well, FCN is going to be a little like that for the next few days, only it isn't being hacked. It's going unsupervised. Stand back, Mommy G. Stand back, Em. Heck, stand back everyone. This is my time. I'm not here to serve the audience. I'm going to do whatever strikes my fancy and I'll write whatever I want whenever I want, and while I'm at it, I'm not going to work out and I'll eat whatever I want and stay up late watching violent movies and I'll get tattoos on my upper arms and torso and the back of my hamstrings and I'll snort sugar and drink too much Coke and mix mustard into everything and paint my walls pink and send Will You Marry Me emails to all my friends and kidnap my neighbor's poodle and throw cucumbers at the gal in the Post Office and wear lots of heavy chains with white leather jackets and turn my collar up and not answer my phone and never take off my sunglasses even to sleep.

I am so. Excited. No, I have not had caffeine.

Okay, yes I have.

I've arbitrarily gone through the FCN code and deleted things. I really didn't know what I was doing; Uncle Wally is the one who put it up in the first place. But hey. We need shakeup. I'm sure Uncle Wally can fix it back on Monday.

I'm going to go get another Coke, and while I'm gone, I'll post this. Then I'll go do something really devious. No, you do not want to know.

Introducing FCN's Reader Survey

With growth and expansion come growth pains and dangerous collapses. While we sincerely hope to avoid the latter, our recent growth brings with it the need for a census. Wait, we never informed you all about our latest reader, did we?

Reader number ten is an exceptionally overweight individual named Chip. Chip's main reason for coming to our page was to find solidarity. That's right, our tenth reader came to FCN because he wanted to find dumb people with whom to associate. Chip has, according to his G-Talk picture, an affinity for tight white undershirts and the style he chooses does little to hide his bulky middle or hairy back. He sent us a long email full of lovingly misspelled words in which he poured out his life's wish to work as a corporate executive at a Fortune 500 company. We assured him in our reply that white collar work isn't all it's cracked up to be and that he would be much happier working graveyard at Taco Bell while supporting eight kids and his own beer belly. We also advised that one major prerequisite to the Chief Executive's chair is teeth brushing and that he might want to consider other personal hygiene innovations as well.

Yeah, we really hit it off.

Anyway, we were remiss in not informing you of the growth in readership immediately. After all, ten is a huge milestone (three more than the perfect number, two less than a dozen and eight away from legal) and the advance is something we should all share in.

Speaking of sharing, it recently came to our attention that we don't know that much about many of FCN's faithful readers. Actually it didn't come to our attention; it was never there to begin, but you get my drift. We know your IP addresses, what kinds of websites you visit and all your computer's stats, but we don't know meaningful things like the stuff the U.S. Census Bureau asks.

In an effort to remedy the situation, FCN has enlisted the support on an online Blog Reader Survey tool, which asks an arduous number of difficult and pointed questions to ascertain your true feelings about FCN. The survey is so complete and, well, long that you shouldn't attempt to answer all of them, at least not on one meal. Fill out as much as you like and then send it in.

Speaking of which, here is the link to the survey.

Which, for those of you who don't click on things, is:

http://www.blogreaderproject.com/survey/b0dcc72b74f8ce1d0a43b7bc85f444a1

Or you can find the link cleverly hidden in our sidebar.

We won't fib and say the information requested by the survey is essential, but we are curious; the more data you can provide the better. At the end of the survey (whenever we decide to close it), we will cull through the online results and post some information we find particularly juicy. Empirical data taken out of context can be riotously funny, so you will want to come back to read our misinterpretation of the results.

So what are you doing? Go take the survey!

Explaining our Poll

The observant among the faithful FCN few may have noticed the evolution of the FCN sidebar poll over the last month or so. The poll started out as third party HTML code that we found at a free survey manufacturing site. The site asked us to simply enter our polling information and press enter. The necessary HTML was then auto generated and we sent the code via email to Uncle Wally who then updated our page. The results are the entertaining surveys you have undoubtedly seen and maybe even participated in a few times.

We were genuinely happy with this arrangement and saw no impetus for change, until Blogger introduced its own polling widget. The HTML is always sweeter on the other side of the broadband, or something like that. The beauty of Blogger’s innovation is that the FCN reader can instantly view poll results without having to navigate to a third party webpage. Those of you who run webpages are familiar with the concept of an exit path; quotidian readers will return no matter what but the transient visitors will forget their browser’s back button.

Techno jargon notwithstanding, we all thought the new poll format was snazzier, so we made the switch after little discussion. No sooner did the new poll grace FCN’s page when it encountered some insurmountable error and was forced into an early retirement.

You may recall the question “Who would you rather see gain 400 pounds?” which graced this page for a period of some weeks with an error message beneath the caption. The normative reader would think the question excessively cruel unless she actually read the answer options, which turned the query into a comic setup. Believe us; the error deprived you of a great laugh.

We had two ways of fixing the broken poll. Both involved deleting the offending section of code and one required returning to the third party poll host to satiate our desire to find your opinion on arcane interrogatories. But instead of acting to resolve the problem, we did nothing. For over two weeks we let the error message reside high on our sidebar, occupying valuable blog space and keeping a working survey from gracing the page.

It would have been so easy to fix the problem, but none of us had the necessary gumption or resolve. In fact, the page started to look more welcoming, more familiar with the error message. We grew accustomed to seeing the weight gain question without any working answers. We got a couple emails helpfully informing us of the problem and we answered both the same “thank you” and “we will notify Uncle Wally,” but we never did notify our web geek.

We got our “F” back from his tour of the subcontinent and we still took no action to remedy our broken poll. To the contrary, we practically gloated in our laze. At first he wanted us to remove it, but after a few days of inaction he too began to see the beauty of a broken poll.

Eventually Uncle Wally logged in and removed the poll. The action was first met by shock and horror from the contributors; we felt we'd lost a part of ourselves and wanted the problem reinstated post haste. Then the new simplicity of a working blogpage, unencumbered by error messages was realized. Our love for the status quo was and is solidified; pretty much whatever the status quo is. For the time being, we will continue without a survey. Afterall, there is a certain beauty to an unadorned page. A very certain beauty.

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.

CN Reaches The Pinnacle Of Blog Success

Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, children and codgers and Mommy G,

It has come to our attention a spin-off blog of CN has been started elsewhere in cyberspace, with a couple of the not-so-faithful FCN few hosting their version of Funny Class Notes. The website "Really Funny Class Notes" has as its mission statement that it is composed of a "group of guys who are dedicated to being funnier and more interesting than http://funnyclassnotes.blogspot.com/. Being as [sic] funny class notes only has about 8 loyal fans, most of which are friends of ours, if not, us, we see it as little challenge to become better, most [sic] popular, and all together cooler than funny class notes. In other words, we are tired of you guys getting all the attention."

rFCN lays down the glove by saying "[w]e'll see who has the girl at the end of the day eh? Not that we need anymore women." At first our sensitive male egos were bruised by this comment: It came after such a soft, gentle and inviting beginning that we had allowed ourselves to become vulnerable to rFCN's stabbing humor. They were hitting us hard while we were undermanned. Then we looked over at our mothers and smiled with assurance; we have our "girl" already, thank you.

Really Funny Class Notes has as its second post a lovely Life Tip about the dangers of motorcycle driving and swerving to avoid moose (Or is it moses? No, that's the bearded Bible character. Muses? No, smart wizkid. Moosi? No, breakfast cereal. Why isn't the singular moosum or moosium?). Anyway you can check that out for a good old fashioned belly laugh. Well, hopefully something will happen below your sternum when you read it.

While most sites would probably be terribly worried about direct competition, like what we are inevitably going to get from rFCN, we derelicts embrace the act of a few of our readers as the ultimate in achievement. We see this as a sign of ultimate success. We are not only good, we are so cyber dominant that we set trends in story telling and now blog development. Funny Class Notes has pioneered extensive ground in humor blogging. Who would have ever heard of a Life Tip or tried not calling a girl who has a crush on you for over a month before our site?

This achievement proves that we are well on our way to sinking Daily Kos. All anyone can do now is make a Desperate Student fan site. That's a serious request; anyone?

We give rFCN a major slobbering cyberhug that shows our sistersite how much we are touched by its complimentary blogging. Our expressions of affection are as effusive as they are moist and we thank you guys with tears of joy and a little unintended snot. You guys have many great years of blogging ahead of you and we thank you for joining the fight, paying less attention in class and defeating opposing (and agreeing) viewpoints with bucket loads of sarcasm.

The two of us here at CN wish to extend the peace pipe to our sister site. We are over the girl jab and want to be friends. Best friends. BFF, in fact. We can share readers (we don't bring a lot to the table in that regard but, hey, Gideon's army was small too), maybe compare notes on failed love lives and, if the going gets really choppy, cuddle for warmth.

To the boys over at rFCN, finding your site made our day. Please don't be a stranger. Feel free to email us and ask about the nuances of delinquency or the finer points of avoiding hard work. We'll be happy to give a few pointers. Also, please leave combative comments on our posts and steal as many readers as you want. You've made us feel so good about ourselves that you can have the whole lot - if you use the magic word. Or, heck, forget 'please;' just cybernap them.

Update: Another humor blog titled Unrivaled Humor got its start this week with a couple of awesome posts, one about a trip to the dentist and another about a punk rock band. Join Big-Al and JellyFish for some laughs that may not be unrivaled, but may end up being ribald. Ok, terrible pun; forgive us, please.

The Master on Wal-Mart

It's been a long time since The Master made an appearance on FCN. If you've ever heard him, you know why. Anyway, we recently upped his latest broadcast on YouTube, and you can view it here, which, for those of you who don't click on things, is:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VanWi7CY6A0



Yes, we use YouTube to host our audio. No, we will not apologize.

If you're new to The Master, check out his first broadcast here, which, of course, is the same thing as:

http://therealprincec.googlepages.com/USDA.mp3

Note that the above link can only be accessed with Internet Explorer or Mozilla Firefox, unless of course you have m@d h@x0r ski(z like Uncle Wally.

Announcing the Official FCN Mom

We're told there's something inspiring about three lonesome, misdirected students stumbling blindly through the universe bumping their shins on things. We're also told there's something equally inspiring about having their every poorly planned misdeed shamelessly recorded for six people to read. The thing is, we at FCN can't figure out what's so inspiring about it. We find it rather demoralizing, actually. We try so hard to succeed. Perhaps what we need is a little more parental guidance.

We all have mothers of some kind or another. For some of us, our biological mother fills the maternal role (and does so quite nicely, may we add without sounding like we want more dinner tonight). For others, a caring female figure who grants motherly advice when it’s needed steps up to fill the role. Regardless, the mother is the cornerstone of a family and very important to the development of the individual.

We don’t mean to sound like Freud; we do mean to say that mothers have been prominent figures in our own lives and that we regret that FCN doesn’t have the "maternal advantage."

FCN is yet a wee weblog and is still in its developing state. With only a few faithful readers to boast of and tons of awesome content yet to be imagined, we are in dire need of a good mother to keep us on the straight and narrow. Unfortunately, FCN lacks a biological mom – the online condition of a blog renders physical parents an impossibility – and we must therefore seek out an unfortunate soul to substitute for our non-existent natural parent.

As you, the faithful FCN few, well know, the writing team here is a bunch of derelicts who defy correction and are, to wit, ungovernable. The task of mothering us is a difficult one (not unlike running an orphanage – "Oliver Twist," not "Annie") and we understand the trepidation that accompanies any attempt. We need a mom who can offer us her cyber-shoulder when our love lives go off the deep end. We need a mom who will understand when we wash down large quantities of taquitos with liquid myocardial infarction. We need a mom who can take a joke and give one at the same time.

And we've found one.

By a vote of 3-0, the FCN team has agreed to adopt Mrs G as the Official FCN Mom (she gave us permission after we promised to floss). "Mommy G" will serve as a supporting member of the FCN team, only the second person to gain this distinction since Uncle Wally started handling our technology. She will provide guidance, instruction, support, and brownies to the hard-working team in exchange for an occasional thank you and the satisfaction of a job well done.

Welcome to the team, Mommy G. We look forward to many happy years together (and when we say many, we really do mean many).

Reader Number Six

It's another huge milestone in the meteoric rise of FCN: we have just gained our sixth reader. Now we are truly on a roll. We are taking the blogosphere by storm, folks. Nothing can stand in our way. Through sheer force of will and desperation, we are overwhelming lesser blogs that are based on talent, humor, or class. Nothing can stand in our way now. Our progress may be slow by the standards of some, but it is also inexorable. According to Uncle Wally's homemade calculator, if our trend continues (which it will), then in just a little over 79,059,829 years, we'll have every internet user in America drooling over our content.

Our sixth reader is from Zimbabwe, or as they say in those parts: Mbuku gabeli click clack guber.

We realize that, by current longevity standards, it is highly unlikely that we will survive long enough to see FCN dominate the world. However, the FCN team is full of visionary thinkers. By a vote of 2 to 1, we agreed to freeze-dry Dan and stick him into cryogenic sleep, to be awakened when the current FCN team is done for. Dan will appoint a new FCN team from amongst the loyal ranks of the LLFCN, then tuck himself back into the freezer for a few more decades. This way, the FCN legacy will never die, unless of course there's a power outage at Dan's storage facility.

We've come to some other brilliant ideas, too. But it wouldn't be right to unveil them all at once. We ingenious derelicts have something truly spectacular planned to celebrate our sixth reader, and as soon as we get the details hammered out, we'll rush it out to you so you can blow out the candles.

Look out world. FCN is coming.

See you in 76 million years.

Signs of Outward Success

We know that real beauty is found on the inside and that no matter how wealthy or outwardly successful someone is, they can be a scum sucking scumbag on the inside. Phrased differently, Shirley who works at the convenience store is shining brighter on the inside than Uncle Wally who drives caddy.

While we know this, it is still nice to look at signs of outward success. These are ways you can estimate the individual wealth of a person without conducting an invasive auditing of their tax records. A successful individual will have...

...Name on underwear.
...Google rating >100,000.
...Steak every evening.
...>2 civil cases pending constantly.
...At least one service sector employee (lawyer, mechanic, masseuse) in constant employment.
...Church or beverage named after you.
...Chain of domestic service command.
...>3 refrigerators.
...>4 fireplaces.
...>2 filled piercings, at least one of which must be occupied by a 4 carat diamond.
...No hotel pens in entire mansion.
...Personal bouncer.
...64 piece entertainment system with a 3-year Geek Squad warranty.
...4-lane freeway as a driveway.
...LeBron James as personal basketball trainer.
...24/7 security to guard against impatient heirs.

Have you ever heard of Funny Class Notes?

After my late morning foreign language class last week, I settled down for lunch at the campus canteen with a couple of my fellow students. One, Tony, an avid soccer player and regular running partner, was a frequent lunchtime mate. The other, Amanda, the girl who sits behind me and to my right in class and can say twenty words in at least twenty languages, came along for the (English) conversation.

And converse we did. Over tasty pepperoni pizza, a turkey sandwich with all the fixings and a cream cheese filled pretzel (my favorite canteen fare), we battled wits the way only college students can. That is, we used mutters, grunts and urban dictionary slang to express our most aesthetic of emotions.

I am not sure what superfluous topic of conversation we were dealing with when Amanda looked up, a smile in her eyes, and said: “That’s funny. I read something like that a while back; have you ever heard of Funny Class Notes?”

Before going further, it is important for the reader to understand that while I am a highly egotistical person, I don’t go about introducing random classmates to FCN. It would just be too embarrassing to have all my fellow students reading the slanderous things I write about them. They would recognize the nuggets of truth that permeate these episodes and would no doubt take offense at the way their comments and actions are turned into comedy.

I had certainly never told Amanda about FCN.

Even more amazing was that Amanda was able to recognize not only the fact that she was familiar with whatever it was that jogged her FCN memory, but that the content was originally from it. She didn’t think “oh, I read that online somewhere” or "I think some idiot said that on the radio," but instead thought “that’s from FCN.”

Not only had she connected the synapses and deduced the link between her auditory sensory data and FCN, but she felt the need to spread the good FCN word. She had asked me if I had ever heard of it; an obvious attempt to make me into a regular reader. Amanda wasn’t just one of the faithful FCN few, she was a missionary!

Also understand that I pretty much write the way I speak. The kinds of odd, socially unacceptable phrases that you all put up with so routinely tend to bubble out of me in conversation like foam out of beer. FCN posts are a rare glimpse into the chaos of the male mind and I have a penchant for expressing my inner madness with perverse regularity. If I am in my comfort zone, everyone else is in the splash zone. It’s true. Just ask my therapist.

These thoughts, and a few others, crossed my cream cheese inebriated mind in a matter of nanoseconds and I was ready with an answer, albeit an unimaginative one.

“Actually, yes. As a matter of fact, I am one of the writers for FCN. How in blue blazes did you hear about it?”

“My goodness, no!” Amanda looked excited. “I don’t know, a friend of mine told me about it a few months ago. Wow.”

That pretty much proves it. I didn’t know Amanda a few months ago.

At that moment, another realization struck me. I had just encountered our third reader. Our web software was vague as to her identity and up to this point we had been assuming she was an agent of the Russian government who kept tabs on FCN for security reasons. This isn't to say it's impossible for Amanda to be a Russian agent, but it certainly casts a shadow of doubt on our tracking software, which was designed by dear old Uncle Wally.

With all the food gone, our conversation ended quickly thereafter and Tony, Amanda and I headed our separate ways. But the knowledge that an FCN reader, even an FCN missionary, could be just around the next corner will haunt me for a long time.

Getting serious

You read it right - FCN is getting serious. We're not just a motley collection of bad students wasting precious time on an obscure blog. Okay, well, we are, but that's not the point. The point is that FCN is moving up in the world, and we want to show that by leaving behind the artsy-pants layouts and going for something credible - a professional, unified black and white design that my uncle set up for us.

FCN is looking for a consistent visual theme, something that's memorable. We want people to be able to look at our blog from across the room and say: "Oh, that's FCN. You actually read that stuff?"

This unified visual theme is just a stepping stone to something big in FCN's future. We can't tell you what it is yet, because then you wouldn't be curious about it and we'd lose all the shock value. But suffice it to say that it's really, really big - probably the biggest thing in FCN history since we resolved to stop lying and cheating.

Let us know what you think of the new look. If you find it an eyesore, we won't be offended. Uncle Wally's labor comes cheap.

Update: Thanks Hannah and anon (whose email was as detailed as it was criticizing). We softened the image a little through less pronounced and concentrated colors (i.e. we added water to FCN). Wally is dutifully offended.