on this story
Well, so do we.
by Scott McNutt
Metro Pulse has no Complaints Department. Being a trained investigative columnist, it took me only slightly over 10 years to discover that. It happened like this: I was having a meeting with my Executive Editor. "Exec," I said, in the familiar manner all us big-time columnists assume with our editors, "Exec, I gotta have a raise. A BIG one. My pet tarantula needs an operation to correct its overbite. And I'm sick of sharing an office with that stinkin' monkey, JoJo."
"McButt," he said, in the derisive tone editors usually reserve for lower life forms such as cockroaches and PR managers, "it's bad enough I hafta edit your drivel. Do I hafta listen to your shtick, too? Don't like your pay? Don't like your office? Tell it to the Complaints Department."
I sensed that he was about to suffer another of his psychotic episodes (probably reliving the time I tried to see just how much tequila it took to get our monkey drunk as a skunk). So I went in search of the Complaints Department. Guess what? He lied. Metro Pulse has no Complaints Department.
Now how am I supposed to get the dough and the elbow room I deserve? Hmmmm... OK, folks! To give me, er, you, the most bucks for your bangs, this month's "Snarls" will double as a Complaints Column. But let's keep this between us, okay? I want to, uh, surprise my editor. Without further ado, let's get to the sucke- ah, complainants:
"OCTOBER 16, 2001, TO ED I. TOR, SNARL MAKE ME LAUGH TIL I PEE. HOW DOES I NOT? SIGNED, GUY THING"
Whoa, Guy, THAT'S a loaded question. However, the humor in "Snarls" IS highly contagious, so I have dealt with this type of complaint before. Here's your quick 'n' easy cure: Take all of the money out of your bank account and send it to me, Scott McNutt. I promise, Mr. Thing, after you do this, you won't ever laugh at "Snarls" again. How you stop peeing is your own business.
"October 18, 2001, Editor, Metro Pulse, I keep getting taken by con artists. Why doesn't Metro Pulse do an exposé on these cons? Signed, Sweet Thang, Sweetwater, TN. P.S.: I worry that JoJo, the Metro Pulse Prize Monkey, isn't fed enough."
Don't you worry your little head about JoJo, Ms. Thang. He eats an intern a day, whether we feed him or not. And yes, Metro Pulse should help folks like you. In fact, I must warn you that rampaging hordes of con artists are expected to descend on Sweetwater momentarily. Tell you what: Since you're prone to giving money to con artists, the thing we need to do is to keep you and your money separate. So, get all your cash together in a brown paper bag, and I'll come by and HIDE it from you.
"OCTobEr l9, 20oI, EDIT or, metro Pulls, I HAve Ur smellY monkEye!!! If YOU wanT to sea jo J0 aLiVe, pUT $lo,000 iN sMAll BilL s on tOP oF the SUN spHerE oct0Ber 31 at MidnITE. senD The snARL guy. HE is thE OnLY 1 i trust. COM e alonE 0r the PRImate Gets IT!!!"
Oh my... Oh, this is terrible! Don't hurt our little JoJo! Don't hurt our sweet simian! Folks, we need your help. Please send your donations to save our cute little anthropoid from- OH, uh, ah, HI, Exec, what's up? Why's JoJo tied up? Oh, um, er, we were just goofing arou- Hey, why are you looking at me like that? Surely you don't think I- Hey, what's with the letter opener? Hey, hey! What are yoUUUAAH!
"October 31, 2001, Editor, Metro Pulse, I am appalled that Metro Pulse's medical coverage does not extend to ex-employees. It should at least cover wounds incurred while in Metro Pulse's service. But my cuts still require medical attention, and you've cut off my insurance! Signed, A Snarling Ex-Employee. P.S.: I hope that smelly banana-swallower eats YOU!"
Got something you want to complain about? Great! We're professionals. We can complain louder and longer than you can. So send your complaints to [email protected].
October 25, 2001 * Vol. 11, No. 43
© 2001 Metro Pulse