This Casual Day Thing Has Gone Too Far

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Vol 30 Issue 05

Instant Gratification Sped Up

WASHINGTON, DC—Bowing to the demands of the American people, U.S. officials sped up instant gratification yesterday, making wish fulfillment more immediate than ever before. "Although gratification has been instant ever since the early '70s in this country," said William Lawson, chair of the National Gratification Investigatory Committee, "many Americans were still complaining it just wasn't fast enough." According to Lawson, from now on, gratification will actually be faster than instantaneous, occuring some .002 milliseconds before desire is even felt.

Film To Be Made Into John Grisham

OXFORD, MS—According to entertainment industry insiders, Columbia Pictures' 1995 courtroom thriller, The Witness, will soon be made into noted fiction writer John Grisham. The story of a blind boy who hears a racially charged murder take place in a Washington, DC coffee shop, The Witness will become a six-foot-one, 190-pound, best-selling lawyer-turned-author with a penchant for writing gripping page-turners set in the legal world. "We believe this recent box-office smash will make a great Oxford, Mississippi-based author," said David Rudner, Columbia Pictures' spokesperson. "The gripping dialogue and nail-biting trial scenes should have people who meet Grisham on the edge of their seats." The Witness: The Human Being is due out in July of '97.

Area Panties In A Bunch

CROSS PLAINS, GA—According to police, a pair of area panties was discovered yesterday all wound up in a bunch and badly in need of some loosening. "Whoever owned these panties," Cross Plains Police Chief Jonathan Norcross said, "obviously needed to relax. Failure to chill out is the number one reason so many panties get bunched in this country each year." Though the panties investigation is still pending, Norcross denied rumors of a connection between yesterday's incident and a pair of Atlanta-area undies discovered last Sunday in a bundle.

Jews To Celebrate Rosh Hashasha Or Something

JERUSALEM—Jews the world over are preparing to celebrate Rosh Hashanukah or something this weekend, the traditional Jewish holiday marking some sort of rebirth and new beginning, or maybe the Jews' liberation from some foreign ruler 55,000 years ago. "Rash Kishansha is a very holy time for the Jewish people," said Paul Castellano, a guy from Houston whose gastroenterologist is Jewish. "I think Dr. Futterman said it's the holiday where they light that chandelier and blow that horn." Lasting 12 days, Ran Hosea is followed by Yor Kiplach, the Festival of Sand, during which no buttered bread may be eaten in remembrance of the flooding of the ancient Temple of Hosea.

Nike to Cease Manufacturing Products

BEAVERTON, OR—Citing creative confinement and a desire to focus exclusively on what it does best, the Nike Corporation announced Monday it will cease manufacturing athletic shoes and other sports-related merchandise in order to devote itself fully to the creation of state-of-the-art television advertisements.

Local Teen Slated to Masturbate Furiously

SALEM, IN—In a move designed to relieve several years of pent-up sexual frustration, area teen Jeremy Royce is slated for fever-pitched, white-hot masturbation later this evening.

MTV Launches 'Rock the Census' Campaign

NEW YORK—With four years to go before 2000, MTV is already launching a campaign designed to ensure widespread Generation X participation in the decennial national census survey.
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This Casual Day Thing Has Gone Too Far

Look, I'm as fun-loving as the next guy. After work I like to loosen up my tie, unbutton my collar and relax with a couple fingers of sourmash whiskey in front of the news. So, when the boss announced that Friday would be Casual Day at work, I was all for it.

On the first Casual Day I wore my brown loafers instead of the black oxfords—the ones that usually go with my pearl grey jacket—and the Minnesota Vikings tie that I won at the office Christmas party for guessing last quarter's fiscal growth. I don't really like the Vikings much, and the loafers always make my feet smell like donkey, but I didn't want to be considered a spoil-sport.

When I arrived at work that morning I thought I'd walked into the wrong office! It was like a circus in there, or some sort of a young people's night club. Some of the men were wearing polo shirts as if they'd just come in from playing tennis. A bunch from marketing had blue jeans and tennis shoes on. A few others from client development were wearing khaki pants and sweater vests. I half expected them to break into "Greased Lightning" at any minute!

This utter lack of decorum was not limited to the gentlemen, by any means. Our staff is made up of at least 50 percent fairer sex, what with the need for typists and such. But as I glanced around, I asked myself, "Where have all the women gone?" Then I realized what was going on. The women were there, but they were wearing pants!

I approached a woman who was wearing a dress in order to compliment her on her choice, but as I neared I saw she was, if you can believe this, not wearing stockings. Suddenly the place of business has become a beach! What was next? Mini-skirts and go-go boots? Long hair and bare feet?

I was afraid for the future of the company, so I went straight to Mr. Klavert's office to inform him of what was going on. I rushed into his office and found him turned toward the window. When he swiveled around to see who had entered, it was as if I was trapped inside a nightmare: He was wearing tan Dockers and a short-sleeve pullover. Arrgh!

I ran out of there and into the main office to monitor for other signs of decay, and sure enough—the coffee fund cup was completely devoid of quarters! I looked around and saw at least five people with steaming mugs. "That had better be Cup-a-Soup!" I yelled.

There were soda-pop cans in work cubicles, and the supply cabinet was left wide open, just inviting abuse of envelopes for personal use. Someone had failed to clear the copier after use, and the employee refrigerator was a holy terror. Things had gotten way out of hand, and when I expressed my grave concerns, everyone acted so, well, casual about it.

The last straw came when I looked up at the intra-office announcement board and saw a comic strip pinned among the memorandum postings. The irreverent humor of Dilbert has no place in a serious office. Maybe in some other place, one which invites scandal and reckless whimsy, but not in our office. I pulled the Dilbert funny down and ripped it up into tiny pieces before depositing it in the appropriate recyclable paper basket.

When Casual Day was over, I felt embarrassed that I had ever lowered myself to take part in it. The very first thing I did when I got home was take off those briefs and put on a pair of crisply ironed boxers.

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