Friday, December 21, 2012

Elmo Tinsel

It is no secret that I absolutely hate the junior college I attend. It's close to home, but that's about all it's good for. Honestly, it's like a real life Greendale.

On their website's homepage, they usually have a banner filled with little pictures of people who have gone on to make something somewhat useful of their lives post-community college graduation. By clicking on the banner/photo, you are taken to a short testimonial about how wonderful the institution is, and how they could never have done anything awesome in their entire lives, like, ever, without their fantabulous community college.
They usually look something like this...


As I went to make sure my transcript was looking good in the wake of finals week, I saw an unfamiliar picture on the testimonial banner.

I had to do a double take, just to make sure I saw what I thought I saw.
Heavens-ta-Mergatriod, I did.
By clicking the testimonial link, you are taken to this page. For those of you who cannot open the link (I hear you can't do that on smart phones? Go figure), you are greeted with this picture...

...and the following testimonial.

Elmo Tinsel wanted all his life to become a toymaker, yet he couldn’t have Etch-A-Sketched a more circuitous path to his final destination.

He first ventured into the toy industry right out of high school with a job on the loading dock at Yakima Yo-Yo. Sure there were ups and downs, but soon Elmo was promoted to the axle-installation crew. Not three months later though, thanks to an abrupt industry shift from fixed-axle yo-yos to those containing spring-loaded weights, Elmo found himself out of work.

“They only kept guys who had spring-loader certification,” Elmo recalls, “and you had to be buddies with someone in management to qualify for the course.

“I was sure I’d have a long career at Yakima Yo-Yo, but there were just too many strings attached.”

Elmo bounced from job to job after that, never quite fitting in. He quickly burned out making Easy-Bake Ovens, and he completely washed out at the Slip ‘n Slide factory.

He dabbled in Silly Putty for a while, but he didn’t need a Ouija Board to tell him that he’d never become a Big Wheel in that sputtering industry.

Then he heard about Amarillo College, where dozens of degree and certificate programs help thousands of students launch great careers. Some out-of-work axle installers said he was taking a Risk, but Elmo says AC actually helped him get a Clue.

Today he is in charge of inventory control in Santa’s Workshop at the North Pole, where on the side he also makes yo-yos that contain, you guessed it, axles with spring-loaded weights.

“It’s my dream job,” Elmo said. “I get to make toys, I oversee a huge inventory of toys, and talk about job security—we have a virtual Monopoly on the Christmas trade.

“Thanks AC! This is a gig I won’t ever LEGO.”

Editor’s note: you Tickle Me, Elmo.

How is this an accredited institution? I don't understand. Is it something in the water here? Has the dust and wind finally gotten to somebody's brain? Really, think about it. Someone had to come up with this idea, sketch out a character, write the testimonial, find the pictures, put all of it together on the website, and then have it approved by someone else. More to the point, who in hell would approve something like this to be shown from a supposed bastion of higher learning?

Maybe this whole End of the World thing has more credence than I gave it before; the stupid is coming to get us all.

Is It A Subscription Box, Or Something More Sinister? (It's A Subscription Box. Maybe.)