First of all, I’d like to give a hearty “Thank you so, so much” to everyone who has read and enjoyed danielsfunny.com over the past 3 years. Writing these articles, and lists, and life stories has brought me happiness and relief like I never thought possible. For 3 years, danielsfunny.com was my resume, my portfolio, and my diary, and I’m glad that other people have had the chance to dig it too.
Second, I’m not abandoning this site entirely. It will still be used sparingly, to update everyone on current projects and such. But it won’t be the consistent source of joke delivery that it has been, at least for a while. I have new ventures that I’d like to devote my time to. I’d really like to write a few books, for instance. I hope it all works out, and I’ll be approaching it with the same mantra that I had when I started Daniel Is Funny: “Anything goes.”
Once again, thanks for all of your support. You’ve been fantastic.
Facebook is a cesspool of memes and poorly planned explosions of opinion. It must be stopped. This Facebook comment should be enough of a rallying cry for you to pick up your pitchforks and rebel.
“People trying to make you jealous when really, you do NOT give a shit”
Some people don’t handle emotions very well, much less their own life choices. To many, life is a Mortal Kombat game, and they’re someone who is playing video games for the very first time. Life is just mashing buttons, hoping that their character does that fireball move again. Instead of accomplishing their ultimate goals, they just end up blocking a lot and, eventually, ducking and upper-cutting, which is the easiest way to go through existence: hoping everything around you is stupid and simple enough for it to come so close to you that you can easily capitalize on it. To create or “Like” a Facebook page like “People trying to make you jealous when really, you do NOT give a shit” means that you have entered the “ducking and upper-cutting” stage. You’re totally unprepared for any problem or potential success that will come your way, except for the things that can be solved by backing up into the corner and throwing your arms in the air whenever danger approaches.
Don’t let a name like “People trying to make you jealous when really, you do NOT give a shit” fool you. It takes a lot of giving a shit to come to a point where you feel that you need to assert to the world just how much you don’t give a shit.
To illustrate just how much you give a shit, allow me to show you this picture of late 80’s WWF mainstay King Kong Bundy. Look at the size of King Kong Bundy. He has the appearance of an arctic mammal that was suddenly told that it had just ten minutes to prepare to fight Hulk Hogan. That’s the size of the shit you give. You give a King Kong Bundy amount of shit, and, if you know anything about the world’s mass, this means that you’re giving most of it.
There’s a ton of ellipses in this thing, which is pretty thoughtful. Usually, using an ellipses hints that there needs to be some sort of dramatic pause, and, if that’s the case here, then this is the Texas Chainsaw Massacre of Facebook comments. It is literally dripping with suspense and desperation.
“my name is jennifer gumz”
Hi, Jennifer. What’s one of your problems?
“I’am 18 years old”
I dig this amalgamation of both “I am 18 years old” and “I’m 18 years old.” It’s a real “everything and the kitchen sink” approach to spelling. If you decide to spell a word by just adding every possible way to spell it together, someday you’ll get something right.
Also, only 18? With this kind of comment, she proves that she has all the social media managing acumen of a twenty-year-old. I’m thoroughly impressed.
“please like my page”
I explored something like this fairly recently, where an imaginary person told us that her grandmother’s dying wish was a certain number of “Likes” on a Facebook page. But, while that was exploitative, one can appreciate the directness of “please like my page.” It takes confidence for a robot to blatantly ask you things.
And yes, for everyone wondering, I am indeed making fun of the words of a computer virus/robot/fake Facebook account. I know this, because the “jennifer gumz” Facebook page, using this same photo, is just a mashed collection of suspicious clickbait links, and this picture, like a fishhook for people who have a limited understanding of the internet.
I didn’t just find the words of some high school senior and decide that they were fit for having their dreams peed on. Every high school senior writes Facebook posts as if they’re turned away from the computer, screaming for books to be burned. And if it seems petty and useless to you that I’m attacking the words of a fake person, know this: unless we start making fun of robots now, they’ll make us their slaves later. The first battle in the Cyber War will be over self-esteem, and I have my eyes set on victory.
It was an early, rainy Wednesday morning, when Trey decided to shut down his Shaq parody Twitter account.
“I don’t know, Mom” he explained over the phone. “I just don’t think it’s working out.”
Trey’s Mom tried to offer what limited support that she could in this situation.
“No, don’t worry about me,” he continued. “I’ll be fine.”
@thisisShaq had been the number two Shaq parody Twitter account for two straight years, but Trey had always been humble about his success. When he tweeted at a bar, and told all of his friends what he’d just tweeted, he never let his ego get out of control. “I mean, really. Some people have, like, 3 million followers,” he’d tell them. “I only have about 116 thousand.”
He scrolled through the long list of tweets. God, he’d made a ton of jokes about Gold Bond medicated powder. And about free throws. And he’d even added in some inspirational quotes too. But all good things must come to an end, Trey thought. All good things.
Maybe he’d devote a little more time to his friends and family now. Maybe he’d put more effort into marketing his own, personal Twitter account, which only had 101 followers. Yeah, I’ll do that, Trey thought. He imagined himself writing a mix of very general humor and strong opinionated statements. Develop the “Trey” brand, so to speak. That’ll be good. Focus on Trey.
Sometimes, when you love someone, you’ll do anything you can in order to win them over. Sometimes, this includes trying your best to impress their parents. I guess that’s what the video for “Rude” is about, as Johnny MAGIC! attempts to marry that girl in any way that he can. The only problem is that he’s the worst person in the world at it.
It starts out with some Instagram filters, which are dispersed throughout the video, as Johnny MAGIC! adorably plays guitar for a girl who, in turn, plays with his hair. You can tell that they’re in love because of all the filters going on. If this was the same scene, but without the sun soaked bits, you’d know that it wasn’t meant to last. But, instead, we’ve set the filter to “Retro memories” which means that this romance is ten times more special than any normal romance. Under normal circumstances, they’d break up because of his refusal to stay monogamous while on tour. Add a filter, and your chances of a divorce plummet.
He wants to marry this girl, so he goes to her father’s house. They have a conversation and the father refuses to let him marry that girl. I doubt that the dad’s reasoning is based on Johnny’s appearance or his career path, but rather because the singer has his posse all stand outside and lean on the car, watching like hipster buzzards. Hey, guys. If you’re ever planning to ask a father for his daughter’s hand in marriage, go for it. But tell your buddies to meet you at Taco Bell afterward or something. Don’t have them staring down the father, drooling over the results.
My name is Andy Kreeling, and I am thirty-four years old. I understand that you are all extremely busy people, and I respect that. However, despite your full schedules, you have committed an oversight that cannot be ignored. For whatever reason, you seem to have forgotten to make a Batman 5.
I would be lying if I said that this kind of error in judgment didn’t make me at least a little peeved. You see, many people on the internet (myself included) were disappointed in Batman & Robin, which I believe is mostly due to the lack of development in the character of Batgirl, played by the talented Alicia Silverstone. This is the kind of problem that could be easily fixed in a sequel, as it is the nature of sequels to add more story to a story that already exists. There were other complaints levied against the jokes and campy tone, something that could also be solved with a sequel, one that would be much more in line with the subdued tone of films like Batman Forever.
Now, I’ve done the math, and it’s been a total of seventeen years since the release of Batman & Robin. A fool would immediately concur that that is far too long of a wait to release a sequel after. However, the Star Wars prequels came out sixteen years after the end of the Return of the Jedi, and they chronologically takes place thirty-two years BEFORE A New Hope, which means, technically, they happened fifty-four years after they should have. Considering that, a Batman 5 should be no issue. The heroic stories of Batman and Robin and their struggles against Mr. Freeze and Poison Ivy have influenced pop culture for decades, and much like A New Hope, they are not so easily forgotten.
Writing about why people should move to Asheville is a popular and lucrative industry, like flipping houses or the job that your friend’s hacked Facebook page tells you about where some mom earns seven thousand dollars a day working from home. I’m here to help you get a little piece of that success with a step-by-step guide for writing articles about Asheville. With this simple outline, you’ll be earning the big bucks in the exact same way that everyone who writes a list about Asheville is earning theirs’.
Nestled in the heart of the Appalachian Mountains is Asheville, North Carolina. Something about a medium sized town. Something about local flavor. Here are ten reasons. Awkward lead in.
Restaurants. Mid to high price ranges. Gives everyone the illusion that Asheville has a median income of about $65,000. Best barbecue/Indian food/Thai food in the state. Mention West Asheville and downtown locations only. East/North/South Asheville aren’t even real things, as far as anyone is concerned. Vegetarian friendly. Steak friendly. Hugs.
Hippie joke. Hippie joke. Drum circle reference. You’re hilarious. Keep going. The world needs you. Asheville needs you. A line about culture, maybe? Insulting another city (Charlotte and Atlanta work well for this.) More stuff about culture.
Biltmore. Historic information. Stock photo of a couple in their early thirties enjoying Biltmore. Two things you can do at Biltmore. Damn, guys. Biltmore.
Nightlife. Make sure to include a line about people in their twenties to make potential readers feel at home. Bars are popular. People go to bars. You’re almost half done, and well on your way to earning that $12 that your editor promised you. Don’t give up now.
You’ve been caught by the dictionary police and what is your sentence? The time it takes for you to gain some knowledge and read this list!
I thought you said that you invited a lot of people? No, I’m not bored. I just thought that there’d be enough people to play beer pong with. No, it’s cool. I might head home soon though.
Umm, don’t you mean “yellow?” Read a book.
Did you have sex or what? You were in the same bed. At some point, you probably napped too. What do you mean by “slept?” I deserve to know, Austin. These secrets that you’ve been keeping from me are tearing our relationship apart. I don’t know if I can do this anymore.
Ironically enough, you’ve been using “ironically” “incorrectly.” I don’t know what it means, but I’m sure you’re using it wrong, dumb dumb.
It means “big fire.” Plus, you’re spelling it wrong. Replace the “r” with an “l” and you’ll have an actual word. Millenials, ugh….
So, you’re telling me that you went ahead and posted a funny quote without first plastering it on a picture of Will Ferrell’s character from the hit comedy Anchorman? You’ve made a grave error, buddy.
Are you always this dumb? You do know that you can’t list “My mother dropped me on my head” under the “Experience” section of your comedy writing resume, right? That, or “My drinking water is full of old paint chips.” You better hope that you get a daughter that you can sing the songs from Frozen with, or return home from war with an excited dog waiting for you, because, otherwise, you’ll never go viral. Internet popularity? For you? Not a chance, when you lack that amount of foresight.
You think that you’re clever enough to make it big without people imagining your words said by Ron Burgundy? Okay. Yeah, that’s cute. You keep it up, slugger. I’m sure Saturday Night Live is practically begging for new writers who can’t even follow through with the most basic requirements of humor.
Becoming a famous writer seems like a pipe dream to many. You have more of a chance of getting struck by lightning than you do of publishing a successful novel, and, to add insult to injury, some people get struck by lightning multiple times. That’s right. You’d have more of a chance of becoming notable if you walked into a field and made random dares at God than if you actually sat down and tried to beat out 80,000 words on your laptop.
But you can do it. I promise you, with enough effort and a little bit of luck, you can join the pantheon of writers who now see their work in the aisles of a bookstore. And then, when sales do not perform to expectations, you can join the even larger pantheon of writers who walk through the bargain section of a Barnes & Noble, and can be comfortable with the fact that their book is now covered in “thirty,” “fifty,” and “seventy percent off” stickers.
At times, this goal may seem unreachable. I know how that is. You down cup after cup of coffee and you stare at a blank page that will mutate into some clear white abyss. People who think that falling, or any metaphor relating to the act of falling, has to occur in some deep, dark pit, have never stared at Microsoft Word for hours, begging for a sentence to just seep out of the sliver between their fingernails and skin, and creep across the keys, thus giving them the satisfaction that they’re now at least one millionth of one percent of the way finished. You beg for that kind of release, blindfolded, and chained to the bed of your own aspirations, while the dominatrix that is your stupid, unwilling brain, a brain that has imagined every public reading and interview that you’ll ever give once this book is finished, refuses to comply. Sometimes, you’re not even granted the sound of the slap of the whip in your brain’s hand. Sometimes, it’s just darkness and silence, and you’d scream aloud if you didn’t have your ball gag in.