Jim Anchower

Jim Anchower joined The Onion's editorial writing staff in 1993 after several distinguished years on The Come Back Inn dishwashing staff. He comments on community-affairs, automotive, and employment issues. He attended LaFollette High School in Madison, WI.

Articles by Jim Anchower

For A Few Months, I Had It All

Hola, amigos. What's up? I know it's been a long time since I rapped at ya, but I been stressin' like a Hessian over the amount of shit going on.

I Got Some Sweet New Digs

Hola, amigos. How's it going? I know it's been a long time since I rapped at ya, but I've been cheek-deep in a ditch of shit. First of all, the...

I Got To Find A New Place To Live

Hola, amigos. How's by you? I know it's been a long time since I rapped at ya, but I been weighed down by a shit-ton of trouble. First of all, my...

I'm Fryin' My Nuts Off!

Hola, amigos. I know it's been a long time since I rapped at ya, but things have been getting plenty hairy around here. First, I been running like...

I Was Too Gone To Go To Work

Hola, amigos. I know it's been a long time since I rapped at ya, but I been trying to keep myself dry in the shitstorm, you know? First of all, I...

I'm Totally Dating A Black Chick

Hola, amigos. What up? I know it's been a long time since I rapped at ya, but things got crazy, if you know what I mean. I got sacked from my job...

I Kinda Had A Breakdown

Hola amigos. How's shit shaking out? I know it's been a long time since I rapped at ya, but misery's been flying at me from all directions, and...

I Guess I Got A Girlfriend

Hola amigos. What's shakin'? I know it's been a long time since I rapped at ya, but the waters are not always smooth in Lake Anchower. The brakes...

My Hover-Car Is Shot

Hola, amigos. What's your deal? I know it's been a long time since I rapped at ya, but there's been all sorts of mess going on in my life. For one thing, I've been having a hard time getting my government checks. Not that they're worth a whole lot, but I didn't work 57 jobs just to wait by the inbox for my Social Security download. In the meantime, I've got a little side job detailing vintage gas-engine cars out of the driveway of my apartment dome. I don't have a whole lot of customers, but it's all credits up front, so I don't need to report it to the IRS Compliance Force.

I'm Sick Of These Money Problems

Hola, amigos. What's goin' on? I know it's been a long time since I rapped at ya, but it's like life keeps raining shit down on me and I don't have a shit shovel big enough to clear it all away. My ride is giving me grief. The muffler is coming loose, so it's making a lot of noise. The car might sound badass if it were, like, a Thunderbird or something. But it's a Festiva, so it sounds like a souped-up lawn mower. I took a tin can and some muffler tape and patched the pipe up, but my repair job isn't going to last for long.

I Gotta Get Out More Often

Hola, amigos. What do you hear? I know it's been a long time since I rapped at ya, but I been dragging my ass through the routine. The winter always gets me down. Don't tell me how it's spring. I know it's spring, but that makes it worse. It gets warm for a few days, I think I finally broke on through to the other side, and then it snows and I feel like shit again. Plus, my alternator belt is squeaking. I got a new one, but I haven't changed it yet because who wants to do car repairs when it's nice out?

Getting A New Place Sucks!

Hola, amigos. What's the deal? I know it's been a long time since I rapped at ya, but I've been having a heaping helping of problems. First off, the bill collectors from the hospital have been on my ass about the money I owe them for fixing up my leg earlier this winter. I didn't have insurance, so I owe them a shitload. I told them I didn't have any money and they were going to have to open the cut they sewed up if they wanted any more blood from me. The way I figure it, I got a few months before they send it over to a collection agency. And, if I give them a hundred bucks or so, that'll buy even more time.

Junk Yardin'

Hola, amigos. I know it's been a long time since I rapped at ya, but I've had a fistful of problems lately. I had to beg Ron for a second chance at the crappy carbonics plant. That sucked, first because I hate begging, and second because I hate begging Ron. I had to remind him of the time I pulled this guy with a USMC tattoo off of him after he got too friendly with the marine's woman. I was hoping to cash that favor in for something good, instead I had to waste it on a job.