Author Archives: krontarsmash

Advanced Job Aversion: How to Not Get Employed

By Simon

In today’s burgeoning economy, Liberal Arts graduates are having to claw their way through a dense and aggressive tangle of job offers from NGOs, non-profits, consulting firms and universities just to get to the bartending positions our generation was promised.  Companies finding themselves at the mercy of overflowing coffers and client lists that conventional databases struggle to contain are resorting to measures of dubious legality but definite extremity.  Just last Wednesday, a man in Tulsa was literally kidnapped and forcibly enrolled in a fully compensated zero-deductible PPO and 401k by a company desperate for new hires.  

These companies have so many high-paying, comfortable jobs that, as one recent study found, the departments responsible for placing people in said positions are understaffed by as much as 44% in some industries.  Further still, the mathematical analytics division of the company that produced that statistic was so short-handed that they were completely unable to guarantee its accuracy.  Internationally, this phenomenon has prompted hundreds of thousands of employees in Greece to take paid leave from their salaried private sector positions in order to take to the streets, clamoring for more people to join the workforce.

Make no mistake — employment is dangerous and a potential threat to your well-being.  Job-having is known to carry an unpleasant list of side effects, including but not limited to increased risk of exposure to paying customers, a nagging sense of purpose, various attributes and activities described as “gainful,” and in rare cases (usually among men aged 41-55) the spontaneous and inexplicable acquisition of a ‘65 Mustang.  In one graphic example, a loyal salaryman of a prominent encyclopedia sales firm sustained multiple papercuts while attempting to take his paycheck out of its envelope at the bank.

Not only that, but preliminary investigations conclude that animals grow to resemble the spaces they habitually occupy — meaning your average office employee may be as much as 56% more cubic by the time they finally get their life together and quit.  And if you think that drastic body reshaping won’t affect your social life, think about what happened to all those kids in the Gushers commercials after the cameras stopped rolling and they had to live with watermelon heads until their sad, lonely deaths.

Now that we’ve established that you simply can’t afford to have a job, here are some tips to keep you in a perpetual state of unemployability:

-Burning Bridges

Ever heard somebody say that networking is the most important component of any job search? Well, they couldn’t be more right.  Burning bridges is about the same basic concepts behind networking, except instead of taking your old boss out for coffee and asking for a recommendation, you shit in the glove compartment of his Lexus.  Frequent and indiscriminate adultery with spouses of former employers will also score you major points in this category.

-Classic Misdirection

One of the better ways to stave off employment before it happens to you or the ones you love is a good old-fashioned smokescreen, the time-tested tactic of riot police and ninjas everywhere.  Using multiple aliases and addresses online will keep companies guessing as to where they should aim their Orbital Compensation Satellites, keeping you safe from hazardous hiring.

In the dire contingency that you find yourself interviewed under duress, try to distract your potential boss with alarming or outrageous claims about your habits and beliefs.  This is the perfect chance to tell them about that Synchronized Swimming for Neo-Nazis class you took in college, or that one time you got really hammered with your uncle and tried to summon what he described to you as “a shitpile of naked witches” in his basement.  Or, just tell them you’re voting for Ron Paul — anything you can do to convince this interviewer that you have the judgment of a drunk four-year-old and couldn’t hold a job if it was stapled to your hand.

-Aggressive Aromatherapy

Whether you’re making a first impression or already have a job, nothing makes you as undesirable an employee as a good old-fashioned case of the stank.  And when it comes to stank, the danker the better — being the second most odoriferous person in the room doesn’t cut it in today’s competitive unemployment market.

You want to hit all of the major stank categories: dog, mold, old food, PineSol, crotch rot, chowder farts, and brain-stinging amounts of Axe Body Spray.  How much is enough, you might ask?  If you can’t be legally classified as a biohazard, keep laying on the expired mayonnaise. Once you achieve true proficiency in these aspects, you’ll be able to stroll confidently into the office, redolent of forced retirement.

-Pad Your Resume

Recruiters in any field will tell you that the easiest way to avoid consideration for a position is to fail to list the required amount of experience in your resume.  Tens of thousands of well-qualified candidates get turned down for positions every year because their CVs are littered with entries that are either irrelevant to the job being applied for or are typeset in Comic Sans, rendering them completely illegible and obfuscating the entries that might actually get them a job.  While normally a tragedy, we bend this unintentionally brilliant tactic to the purpose of disemployment.

The first step is to list everything you’ve ever done or been recognized for in agonizing detail.  The immune systems of resume readers and recruiters are notoriously weak against documents whose page lengths exceed 3, making them vulnerable to secondary infections like the TMI virus.  Tell them about the Spelling Bee you almost won in the fourth grade, the sportsmanship trophy you won in rec league Disc Golf, or maybe that time you socked a kid in the unmentionables for cheating at Yahtzee.  Are you being considered for a job at an investment firm?  Be sure to elaborate on the valuable lessons you learned interning as a Hackey-sack Repair Technician at the Hipster Circus in Peoria.

-Use the Liabilibuddy System

Everyone knows the best way to get fired is to put your company or their holdings in legal jeopardy, but doing it alone can be difficult.  Realistically speaking, any of these tactics require the aid of a skilled conspirator to truly master.  Having a Liabilibuddy also has a hidden semantic advantage: in the tragic event that one of you gets jobbed up, as a pair you’re technically still only employed part-time.  Whether it’s a spouse, significant other or just a bro down the hall who is looking for the mutual benefit of a partner-in-sloth, having a Liabilibuddy is a crucial step towards achieving your dreams of chronic joblessness.

Above all, Liabilibuddies help you stay sharp in a world where opportunity lurks around every corner, waiting to strike.  Without a partner around to let the milk spoil in the fridge or forget to pay the water bill, you may find yourself too healthy and clean to hold hiring at bay for more than a few months.  And in your moments of weakness, when your life is crying out for a purpose and the benefits packages sound too ripe to pass up, no force on earth can keep you safely at home like that voice beside you that asks “Come on bro, one more round of Black Ops?”

Stay lazy, my friends.


The Prepunderance of Evidence: South Asian Restaurants I Would Open

– Delhi Deli

– Chronic Punjablessness

– Rajasthanch Opposition

– Naan-Disclosure Agreement

– Naan-Sequitur

– Naan-Aggression Pact

– Flowers for AlgerNaan

– Innocent Mumbaistander

– Tamil Nadude Where’s My Car?

– Thus Spake Maharastra

– The Hyderabad Hyderasquad

– Girl Look At That Hyderabody

– Fruit Vindaloops

– Ciabottabad

– Koldkata Sandwich Shop

Conservative Tax Policy: Krontar’s Greater Fledermaus Theorem

By Simon

Let’s just get this out of the way: the idea that conservatives oppose taxes on the wealthiest Americans is because they, themselves, are part of that tax bracket is probably pretty misguided.  This isn’t to say there’s no truth to it, but that’s the kind of thing that tends to draw scrutiny from the Justice Department with some celerity.

Before you start calling me naive, just hear me out.  I promise I have a better explanation for why certain politicians, against the better judgment of what I would consider to be what’s known colloquially as a “preposterous majority” of Americans, insist on voting against taxing people who can afford it.  Also, my name is Simon, not “Naive,” and if you call me that one more time I’m going to cover your car in Kraft Singles and liberally apply heat.

I’m going to paint a picture for you here.

Think back to your childhood.  No, not that one.  Nobody cares if you were a “leash kid.”  I’m talking about your childhood.  The childhood of rainy Saturday mornings, of playing the “how many bowls of Lucky Charms can I get away with eating before my parents notice” game, of doing everything in your power to make your parents terrified for your future.

Naturally, that means I’m talking about Batman.  Let’s delve deeper into this arbiter of nocturnal justice.  Under the guise of darkness, he assumes the aspect of a fearsome crime-fighting man of the night.  Undetectable, all-seeing, swift and irresistibly attracted to low-hanging tropical fruits, mercilessness is the only capacity which Batman doesn’t inherit from his namesake.

Unlike other superheroes, though, Batman has no powers of an appropriately super nature, and he isn’t exactly the greatest at PR.  His aptitude for ass-kicking seems to go more or less unappreciated by the establishment, save a few key alliances at the top of the Gotham food chain, and all of this begs the question:  How can he afford all the fisticuffs he lays down on the bad guys?  How about that supercomputer he’s got laying around in a damp cave? How many Batarangs don’t come back?  Those things can’t be cheap.

The answer, of course, lies with his daytime venture, Wayne Enterprises (formerly WayneCorp), the world’s leader in investments, technology, research and development, contracting, agribusiness, manufacturing, telecom, aerospace, chemistry, raw materials acquisition and apparently crime-fighting discretionary funds.   Suffice it to say that Bruce Wayne makes an absolute batload of money.

But what happens when Barack Hussein Obama, a devout secret Muslim bent on eradicating religion, gets elected to a second term and decides to fulfill his socialist fascist Global Warming conspiracy Community-Supported-Agriculture  plan to raise taxes by EIGHTY BILLION PERCENT?  Suddenly Wayne Enterprises has a lot less money to throw around and Bruce Wayne, once Gotham’s foremost job creator, has to fight for scraps in Uncle Obama’s soup lines like the rest of us.  Granted, the way he can fight, he’d probably end up with a monopoly on state-owned soup, but last time I checked you can’t fight crime with squash bisque.

To bring this twisted, nearly unreadable rambling full circle, I present you with the following eyebrow-raising conclusion:  Republicans can’t tax rich people because some day, in some land, for some reason, out of their ranks will rise a hero, and that hero will need stacks on stacks to have any hope of bringing justice back to this God-forsaken land.  Ladies and Gentlemen, the Batman Thesis.

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It had to be done

Just read the title and understand how impossibly stupid this election is going to be (and/or already is):

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Gator Don’t Play No Shit — Literally

By Simon
Now — I realize I’m new here, so I’ll start off with a little bit of context.  I’m writing to you lovely Internet people from the Great (Republicans-will-never-let-it-be-a-)State of Washington, D.C.  I wouldn’t be surprised if you have heard of it at one point or another, though perhaps by a different name: The Capital Capitol, Obama’s Backyard, Spin City, the Taxation Without RepresentNation, Newt Gingrich’s Personal Speed-Dating Service, etc…

Ah, the District.  It’s a city that has it all — the humidity of a golden-age Atlantis, the pastoral splendor of a Newark and the breathtaking skyline of an Akron, whose tallest building until July of 2010 was, I believe, LeBron James.  To top it all off, it entertains an air of political clusterfuckitude (patent pending) that other countries have been feverishly scrambling to match since George Washington threw off the yoke of his first monarchy (note: it will not be his last).

But there are some parts of this city that I love, few so much as I love the very thing that drove me to write this in the first place: The Gator.  You all are familiar with Gator of the silver screen, who I’m told is played by one “William Ferrel” or some such, but I’m talking about a real Gator, with sharp teeth, thick skin and a quintessentially creole accent.  Every Saturday from noon until two I visit with the Gator on 89.3 WPFW, D.C.’s local source for Jazz and Justice, which just so happen to be two of my favorite Js alongside greats like Jokulhlaups, Jurisprudence, Jewdar and, of course, Jibberwigglin’.

The Gator is the kind of man whose Saturday is seven days long, and he plays music to match.  Perhaps the last scion of Zydeco, the enduring musical legacy of the New Orleans diaspora, Gator plays the kind of tunes that put fire under your feet and what most turn-of-the-century revival preachers would describe as “the devil in your loins.”  If you’ve never had your loins bedeviled, the closest verbal approximation that I can give is “existential proctology.”

Gator opens the show every week with an assortment of tunes apropos of his nickname, including such classics as Lazy Lester’s seminal recording “Alligator Shuffle,” or the precautionary bayou tale “Gator Gon Bitecha” by Memphis Gold.  From there the setlist spirals out of control, beginning with relatively mundane titles such as “Oh Happy Day,” but quickly escalating in vulgarity and blissfully frenetic amperage to the timeless “Full-figured Woman” by the unforgettable and medically accredited Dr. S. O. Feelgood.

By the end of the second hour, we’re ass-deep (in Zydeco units, this equals about 43.775 billion light years) in raunchy rags: “When a Man Loves a Woman”; “I Want to Ta Ta You Baby” (as sung by the late vocalist/angel from the womb of heaven, Etta James); “Your Husband is Cheating On Us”; “She’s Got the Best Lovin’ That Ever Put On a Pair of Drawers”; “Honey Hole”; “Booty-Thumpin’ Grind”…The list is inexhaustible, as is Gator’s deep-bellied laugh and ability to produce noises that are ostensibly syllables and words but which have no discernible meaning.

Gator isn’t the kind of DJ who’s on the radio to “educate” you about music you haven’t heard or dig up old tunes that you stopped caring about when your parents buried the vinyl under the raccoon traps and embarrassing wedding gifts from your foreign step-aunt in the attic 35 years ago.  Gator is an immanent DJ, he’s in the music, interrupting the track 4 or 5 times a minute to tell you how great of a time he’s having playing it for you.  Gator’s the kind of DJ you listen with rather than to, and he sounds like more fun in an hour than you’ll ever be in your entire life.

The moral of the story — and, coincidentally, the punchline of this post — is that, for two hours a Saturday on every Saturday, Gator don’t play no shit.  Literally.