Ladies and gentlemen, tonight I have the honor of performing the annual orphan monologue for this year&rsquo;s fundraising gala. May it move you to tears and to open your checkbooks.&nbsp;
Ahem. Pennies, oh how I lust for yummy pennies. Each bite shatters the pernicious veil of pauperism as well as my malnourished teeth. The crude, metallic texture blesses my poor, mangled hands, and its nutrients sustain me.&nbsp;
I envy the parent-having boys, who shower me with leftover hors d'oeuvres when I do tricks. But alas, I&rsquo;m forced to spend my days asking &ldquo;please sir, may I have some more,&rdquo; to which the public groundskeeper always replies, &ldquo;the water in the lake is free, but unsafe to drink.&rdquo;&nbsp;
The groundskeeper is somewhat of an alive father figure to me. Because of him, I bathe luxuriously in the swamp from which I drink. He even allows me to sleep in the garden if I scare away all the other vagrants. When I&rsquo;m triumphant, I relish in the spoils of their rubbish.&nbsp;
Life is pain, and when the groundskeeper forces me to play hide-and-go-kill with the raccoons, it remains pain. But as he always implies through the tasks he gives me, anything is better than loneliness.&nbsp;
At the end of the day, I lack parents. Nevertheless, due to the endless generosity of this foundation&rsquo;s scholarships, I live with the hope that one day I will drain this fine nation&rsquo;s welfare system.

Ladies and gentlemen, tonight I have the honor of performing the annual orphan monologue for this ye...

Oliver Twist

&ldquo;Let&rsquo;s start this interview with a simple question. Van, in just a few sentences, how did you become interested in painting?&rdquo;
My crush, the most popular girl in school. Myself, the guy who swirled milk together in the back of the cafeteria. &ldquo;You&rsquo;d never go out with me, right?&rdquo; I confirmed, unaware that I would become the most renowned post-impressionist artist on the planet, posthumously. I had tried to woo her with my plan to subvert the naturalist art tradition of the 19th century, which was a stupid idea. She only went for athletes.
The next day at baseball tryouts, I was distracted by a pasture of sunflowers, so striking in the soft, dim light. After I was struck in the face by a pop-up, I became bedridden, a blessing. I shifted my focus from girls and popularity to reorganizing my bedside table. When I decided to leave my bedroom in my mid-twenties, I finally sought professional help.&nbsp;
My therapist was a retired professor who specialized in post-impressionist art and therapy. &ldquo;Van, I&rsquo;m noticing something,&rdquo; she said after I spent two hours detailing the shapes and colors I had seen through my window on a starry night. &ldquo;You have poor social skills and remarkable attention to detail. I recommend that you explore the field of art preservation.&rdquo;&nbsp;
I spent the next decade in the basement of the Louvre, where my only job was to keep the humidity level at five. I was surrounded by people who loved art, which we never talked about because none of us were friends. I craved a more active role. I began warming Alfredo sauce for the pasta bar on the sixth floor.
So, to answer your question, one day I tried painting because it seemed fun.

“Let’s start this interview with a simple question. Van, in just a few sentences, how did you become...

Van Gogh

06/07/2022 Hey saddle sisters. Didn&rsquo;t play outside with the other kids today. Too busy doing horse stuff on the computer.&nbsp;
Horse Question of the Week: If you could breed any mare in history with Secretariat, who would it be and why?
06/14/2022 Hey saddle sisters. I&rsquo;ve been working all night on a plugin for the National Horse Registry that lets you filter by Hotness. I also spent many nights volunteering data points for a new category called Hotness.
06/21/2022 I have big plans that might totally shake up how we think about horses, and breeding. My classmates have gracefully let me have my own table at lunch to concentrate.
07/22/2022 No updates this month since I&rsquo;ve been deflecting an SQL attack on the Horse Registry. Hundreds of years of records for thousands of horses went missing. I replaced them all from the record in my mind.
07/31/2022 I&rsquo;ve rolled out beta testing for the new Horse Registry, but no one wants to be my beta tester.&nbsp;
Horse Question of the Week: Is it because I wear braces?
09/29/2022 Using a database of horse statistics, I&rsquo;ve found a way to predict the winner of the Kentucky Derby with 96% accuracy. Almost as accurate as my mind.
10/03/2022 Just saw a horse in real life for the first time and they are absolutely disgusting.

06/07/2022 Hey saddle sisters. Didn’t play outside with the other kids today. Too busy doing horse s...

Horse Girl Blog

Rick, 40
I&rsquo;d better contribute something before anyone gets suspicious. &ldquo;Let&rsquo;s sacrifice John!&rdquo; I yell. The Leader retorts that today is community garden day. I know she&rsquo;s testing me. This whole sting will be wrecked if I&rsquo;m outed, so I yell, &ldquo;She&rsquo;s not aligned with the mission! Who wants to kill the Leader?!&rdquo;
&nbsp;
Mary, 25
&ldquo;Me!&rdquo; I shout back. A front-row seat means good data for my dissertation on cult psychology. To maintain the integrity of the study, it&rsquo;s important I don&rsquo;t disrupt regular cult operations. Instead, I chime in, &ldquo;Let&rsquo;s try the Elrod method! It&rsquo;s used in over 65% of cult murders. Or so I&rsquo;ve heard.&rdquo;&nbsp;
&nbsp;
George, 63
If the Leader dies, so does my Times column on the first-ever female cult president. Then again, I want Mary to know I respect the opinions of women, so when she tells me to kill the Leader, I don&rsquo;t question her. I listen.
&nbsp;
The Leader, 45
Don&rsquo;t repeat this, but I only infiltrated the cult years ago to practice making friends. I&rsquo;ve never made an assertive claim aloud, making me an amiable leader. I&rsquo;ll ruin those relationships if I stand up for myself. So, when they&rsquo;re trying to kill me, I let them.&nbsp;&nbsp;

Rick, 40
I’d better contribute something before anyone gets suspicious. “Let’s sacrifice John!” I y...

Chronological Excerpts from the Rochester Cult Massacre Reports

Welcome, Parishers. I am honored to speak in this holy chapel. You may call me Father Tod. I am not a priest. My children simply refer to me as such. Our family is extremely rigid.&nbsp;
&ldquo;Father Tod, why are you delivering a eulogy for your great-uncle twice removed?&rdquo; This is a question no one has asked that I am going to answer regardless. Last Tuesday, Linda from the morgue telephoned me. She had the wrong number. The next day, Jane from the other morgue telephoned me. She had the right number. I hope that clarifies things.
My great-uncle was the kind of person who would have his great-nephew give his eulogy. In other words, he enjoyed new traditions. That, or he had no friends. He lived alone and I never met him. My parents would whisper about him in passing. He was never invited to Easter. Where we come from, Easter is very important.&nbsp;
Before I conclude, I will recall some fond memories. My most memorable life experience is my first communion followed by the birth of my son. My great-uncle had a daughter. Ring ring. Imagine I am calling her now. &ldquo;Dad was a person,&rdquo; she stated. This is something she communicated over telegram.&nbsp;
Now that you have heard about my uncle, let&rsquo;s take a moment of silence for him. OK. That was a moment. Enjoy your evening.

Welcome, Parishers. I am honored to speak in this holy chapel. You may call me Father Tod. I am not ...

Eulogy

In 2005, Kyle MacDonald successfully traded up from a paperclip to a house.
&nbsp;
&ndash; Starting with a single paperclip, which I bought on craigslist for a few bucks.
&ndash; Mom is trading me the paperclip for a brand new bar of soap and washcloth, and it&rsquo;s hard not to take it as a hint.
&ndash; Trading the soap for a bunch of little plastic shovels and racecars.
&ndash; No no no no no no
&ndash; Swallowed the toys.
&ndash; Don&rsquo;t have anything to trade for emergency medical care.
&ndash; Nurse sees me crying on the sidewalk near my house and kicks me in the chest to get the toys out.
&ndash; She won&rsquo;t trade me anything for them so I call her a bitch.
&ndash; Trading the toys with my mom and getting another bar of soap.
&ndash; Trading the soap for a ghost.&nbsp;
&ndash; Trading the ghost for a ghoul (worth twice as much).
&ndash; Trading the ghoul for a gun.
&ndash; Trading the bullet for all the cash in the Citizens Bank safe.

In 2005, Kyle MacDonald successfully traded up from a paperclip to a house.
 
– Starting with a si...

Trading Up

Good evening, Lady Harrington. I have arrived on my mighty steed to take you away to &mdash; pardon me. Horse, hold. Hold! My apologies, I haven&rsquo;t yet figured out how to make my steed stop. Easy. Stay. There we are.
As I was saying Lady Harrington, if you&rsquo;ll join me in my carriage I &mdash; good heavens, he&rsquo;s off again. I do not believe I can get him to stop, Lady Harrington. Would you mind stepping into the street? Perhaps I can steer my steed in a gentle circle around you as I relay my request. Very good. Oh dear it looks like you&rsquo;ve stepped into a pile of my steed&rsquo;s manure there, Lady Harrington. No bother: I am willing to look past that. Just don&rsquo;t do it again. Anyways, I humbly request your presence at the ball this evenin &mdash;
(The horse breaks from the circle and begins walking directly away from Lady Harrington.)
Lady Harrington! Come, run alongside me so that we are traveling at the same speed and we can agree on our plans properly.&nbsp;
(Lady Harrington begins running alongside the horse.)
Wonderful! It&rsquo;s as if we are taking a brisk walk together. You&rsquo;re getting tired? Caution, Lady Harrington, the horse is taking your decreased pace as a threat. Retreat, retreat! Lady Harrington you must remember I cannot make my steed stop!
It seems that you have gotten knocked over, Miss Harrington. Into another pile of manure. I know I said I wouldn&rsquo;t forgive it earlier, but I suppose I can find room in my heart. Now I must know, will you be joining me &mdash;
(The horse begins galloping away from Lady Harrington.)
Will you be joining me at the ball this evening? You&rsquo;re shaking your head. IS THAT BECAUSE YOU CAN&rsquo;T HEAR ME, LADY HARRINGTON? LADY HARRINGTON?&nbsp;
Ah I see you&rsquo;re getting into the carriage of another fine young gentleman. A genius strategy to catch up to my most kingly steed. Well done, Lady Harrington. Well done indeed. You shall be on my steed in no time.

Good evening, Lady Harrington. I have arrived on my mighty steed to take you away to — pardon me. Ho...

My Steed

My mom isn&rsquo;t like other moms.&nbsp; When I was conceived, my mother didn&rsquo;t carry me in her uterus, but rather schlepped me around for nine months in her Armani briefcase.&nbsp; Instead of breastfeeding, she pumped me full of knowledge and self-confidence.&nbsp; Opting out on diapers, she decided to dress me in business casual pantsuits.
My mom refuses to be a woman in the kitchen, but she also refuses to let me accept anything from a man, so dinner from Dad is off the table.&nbsp; &ldquo;Success fuels you,&rdquo; she says, which means I get most of my energy from filing briefs and then munching on the paper.&nbsp; I&rsquo;m lucky I get so much practice interpreting legal jargon during my mom&rsquo;s daily productive critiques of my posture.&nbsp; I feel bad knowing that child paralegals would kill to have that on their resumes.&nbsp; However, Mom always says &ldquo;neglected children are rungs on the ladder of success.&rdquo;
I will admit it&rsquo;s not always easy having a modern mom.&nbsp; When she picks me up from school in her designer suit and stilettos, all the boys catcall her with crude phrases like &ldquo;I bet your credit score is so high.&rdquo;&nbsp; They then proceed to walk up to her, offer a firm handshake and their resume, and say something else obnoxious like &ldquo;I want to work under you so that I can learn from your expertise.&rdquo;&nbsp; Disgusting!
Nevertheless, I admire my mom because she supports other working women.&nbsp; Whenever CPS pays us a visit, my mom always makes sure to offer the worker a job at her firm, then proceeds to fire her the moment our case gets thrown out.&nbsp; Powerful women can&rsquo;t get too attached.
I try to mirror her support for other strong, independent women by encouraging my classmates to strike against playing house.&nbsp; Instead we start playing my mom&rsquo;s favorite game: Open Up a Bottle of Wine and Cry At Your Reflection in the Mirror.&nbsp; Unfortunately my teacher bans us from playing because we keep cutting our hands on the broken glass containers we use as wine bottles.

My mom isn’t like other moms.  When I was conceived, my mother didn’t carry me in her uterus, but ra...

The Proper Bostonians #.css-1xlpnei{margin:0px -15px 0px 6px;width:11px;vertical-align:-14px;}

The Proper Bostonians #