The Transhuman Comedy
Raymund Eich's freelance futurism for fun and profit.About Me
- Name: Raymund
- Location: Houston, Texas, United States
I write science fiction (sf) and fantasy, and I'm a book reviewer for Escape Pod (escapepod.org). I follow the sciences--I have a Ph.D. in biochemistry, but also pay attention to neuroscience and astronomy. When not working or writing, I trade currencies, and with what's left of my free time I read sf/f, history, and economics, play computer and board games, keep fit, occasionally fire up the grill, and love my wife.
Wednesday, May 02, 2007
Pour out a forty
When I checked the front page of today's Onion, I had a sinking feeling when I saw the news brief headline, "White-On-White Violence Claims Life Of Accounts Receivable Supervisor": yes, that's right, Herbert Kornfeld is dead.
The earliest Herbert Kornfeld column in the Onion I found in searching its archives is from November 1997. That sounds about right, slotting into a time in my life when I had 20-something aspirations to hipsterdom coupled with dot-com era superficiality. The premise: a white uber-nebbish accountant (the photo strongly reminds me of Derrick Tate, perhaps with a pinch of Darby Bunch) writes about life in the accounts receivable department of Midstate Office Supply in gangsta idiom. He drives the Nite Rida and wields the Letta Opena of Death against the Accountz Payabo posse, etc. As I said, the perfect thing for modern-day superficiality. I can read a Herbert Kornfeld column while wearing a $60 t-shirt with an ironic message and pretend I'm down with hip-hop culture. But like every Saturday Night Live sketch since Schmitz Gay Beer, Herbert Kornfeld was a one-joke pony that went on too long. The Onion did the right thing in killing him off gangsta style.
BTW, I'll be looking for Irving Weinbaum's arrest in a coming issue. (Scroll about two-thirds down).
Oh, and forget pouring out a forty in memory of Kornfeld. Next time I'm at a hockey game and my team scores a shorthanded goal, I'll say, "Cash Room Bitch Be Having My Shortie."
The earliest Herbert Kornfeld column in the Onion I found in searching its archives is from November 1997. That sounds about right, slotting into a time in my life when I had 20-something aspirations to hipsterdom coupled with dot-com era superficiality. The premise: a white uber-nebbish accountant (the photo strongly reminds me of Derrick Tate, perhaps with a pinch of Darby Bunch) writes about life in the accounts receivable department of Midstate Office Supply in gangsta idiom. He drives the Nite Rida and wields the Letta Opena of Death against the Accountz Payabo posse, etc. As I said, the perfect thing for modern-day superficiality. I can read a Herbert Kornfeld column while wearing a $60 t-shirt with an ironic message and pretend I'm down with hip-hop culture. But like every Saturday Night Live sketch since Schmitz Gay Beer, Herbert Kornfeld was a one-joke pony that went on too long. The Onion did the right thing in killing him off gangsta style.
BTW, I'll be looking for Irving Weinbaum's arrest in a coming issue. (Scroll about two-thirds down).
Oh, and forget pouring out a forty in memory of Kornfeld. Next time I'm at a hockey game and my team scores a shorthanded goal, I'll say, "Cash Room Bitch Be Having My Shortie."
Labels: The Onion
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