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A Copywriter’s Blog
Pissing Contest Ben Levy 27, November

Some time last week was my 10 year high school reunion. I didn’t go.

I didn’t go for a number of reasons. Most of them are because we have Facebook now. The rest of the reasons are this:

A high school reunion- at best- is a chance to indulge your morbid curiosity. At worst, it’s a pathetic return to the sort of one-upmanship most of us haven’t seen since, well, since high school.

I don’t need to go back to the seat of my teenage trauma in order to play that game. Watch, I can piss farther than you from here:

“Hey, haven’t seen you in- well, in ten years, right? Thanks, I have been working out. I actually weigh less than I did the last time you saw me. Oh, where are my manners- this is my wife. She’s a doctor. You’ll notice she’s beautiful and also carrying my child. We’re so happy together.

Artist? Haha, I did draw all the time didn’t I? No, actually I’m a writer now. Well I have published a book, but professionally I’m an advertising copywriter. Like Don Draper. Oh, big and small clients. Coke, New Balance, Guinness, Sony Ericsson. Why yes, even though you didn’t ask, that does provide a comfortable income.

What’s that? You don’t actually give a shit, and are just talking to me as a thinly veiled excuse to verbalize that your life is better now than it was in high school? Me too! I’m glad we have both had this opportunity to empty our proverbial bladders. Hope I never see you again.”

When you’re in high school, high school is the most important thing in the world. And that is horrible. But you know what’s worse than that? What’s worse than high school being the most important thing in your life when you’re seventeen, and have barely begun to drive, and still have zits, and don’t understand girls or boys or both?

The only thing worse than that, is if it’s still the most important thing in your life ten years later.

Congratulations, class of 2001. You’re all ten years cooler than you were ten years ago. (I hope.)

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Dreams Ben Levy 20, November

I don’t dream.

That’s a lie, of course. Everyone dreams. It’s just a question of whether or not you remember them.

When I was younger, I didn’t just remember my dreams, I ran them. I was (am?) what you call a lucid dreamer, able to control the flow of my dreams. I still recall a fantastic adventure I had with all four Ninja Turtles in the depths of the Atlantic Ocean. Good times.

But when I was twelve or thirteen, I started getting night terrors. It wasn’t just that I would dream of scary things like falling, or spiders. Or falling into spiders. Or spiders falling on me. It was soul-curdling stuff, like fratricide. I remember one night where I must have been personally responsible for my brother’s death ten or twelve times. Even once I figured out it was a dream, even once I tried to control it, the best I could manage was one of those scenarios where I would push him out of the way of an oncoming train- and right off the edge of a cliff.

Kind of sucked.

I couldn’t stop the nightmares. So I did the next best thing. I stopped remembering them. I don’t know how. I just know that I never remember my dreams. If I try really hard, I can recall a flash of a dream here or there, but in general, I wake up without a single memory of whatever psychic gymnastics took place the night before. No memory, no bad feelings. Works out well.

Sometimes I wonder though. Pretty much every author I’ve ever liked cited their dreams as a source of inspiration. I’ve known people to solve programming problems, design logos, and even write blog posts in their sleep. And The Wife wakes up with some of the most ridiculous tales. So sometimes I wonder if it’s worth it, what I’m missing, and how many stories and posts and novels remain unwritten because I’m too afraid to dream.

I wouldn’t mind hanging out with the Turtles again.

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Friday Feature: Chopper Ben Levy 18, November

In case you were wondering– yes, the man piloting that chopper is clearly Chuck Norris’s father. Possibly also his grandfather. I mean, I wouldn’t put it past him.

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Ouch. Ben Levy 13, November

My week has been like this:

Screen Shot 2011-11-13 at 8.23.50 PM

and believe it or not, that was the part I’d planned for. So I’m gonna skip the post for this week. I’ve got just enough energy to break through a cinderblock wall, snap a man’s neck, and then proceed to repaint the bricks of a Detroit alleyway with the blood of some gang members. And then I’m going to bed.

(Yes, I just got Deus Ex.)

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Friday Feature: Nuclear Explosion Ben Levy 11, November

That was beautiful.

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I hate when someone runs a crappy internet contest and then prefaces the results with a load of crap about how “it was really hard to judge because they were all so wonderful”. This is the internet, not little league. Let the vitriol roll. Express just how shocking it was that out of 700 entries, only three demonstrated even a rudimentary grasp of english. Admit that it was not about choosing the best entry, but the one that sucked the least. Or just show the winners. Everyone’s already scrolled down to that section anyhow, it’s not like they care about anything else on the page. So without further ado:

PezMan

I had the parts. But I lacked the necessary knowledge on how to use them. Until IHADNW came along. Imagine if an IKEA manual made milk squirt out your nose because it was so funny, and nobody was even judging you for using an IKEA manual to learn how to assemble, own and operate your own genitalia. It’s like that. I keep it in my bathroom, right in the eye line of the various people who use my toilet. I like to imagine them looking at the book, then down at their junk, then back at the book, then picking it up and learning a thing or two about a thing or two. And that’s usually the point where I stop imagining what other dudes are doing in my bathroom. Do yourself a favor and buy this for the men (and women) (and he-she’s) in your life.

This was one of the first reviews that went up, and I know for a fact that several people decided not to enter after reading it. Thanks for intimidating everyone with your humor, PezMan. You talented jerk.

Aron with one “A”

Ever been on the subway, tears streaming down your face as you’re looking down at your little guy in your trembling hand, screaming, “Why are you the way you are?!?!?” and then regret telling this story on a book review? Well pal, don’t worry. We’ve all been there. And for that very reason, the Oracles of the Sacred Phallus have taken mercy upon we, the unworthy custodians of peen, and bestowed upon us Ben Levy and his syllabus for the some of us, “I Have A Dick. Now What?”. It’s a must read for any man with a Dick. And any man without. Which is unfortunate as the “without” may have been avoided by having read this book. The irony of that alone is worth the price. So go forth, men with Dicks, and know thine own member better. And as for the eunuchs, well, read this book, and you’re sure to at least sport a raging mouth b*ner.

I kept repeating “Oracles of the Sacred Phallus” to myself, and then laughing hysterically. In retrospect, I realize this wasn’t really appropriate for family game night.

Congratulations to the winners, who get two copies of “I Have A Dick. Now What?”. I apologize for not announcing the results earlier. I’m gonna go ahead and blame it on that whole “knocked up The Wife” thing. I know you’re supposed to wait until the kids are actually outside the womb to use them as an excuse, but I consider this practice for fatherhood.

You can read all the reviews here.

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Friday Feature: I Want One Ben Levy 4, November


I do not understand one word of this guy’s explanation. But I know this:

SCIENCE IS AWESOME

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