Once in a blue moon, I'll get a few decent story ideas from our local Craigslist. The sad truth of the matter is that if you harvest this site for leads, then eventually you'll turn into a full-fledged bookmark hoarder. Sometimes, people will come to me and say something like, “Jesus, Wolf, why do you have so many bookmarks?”--- I’ll then slam my laptop closed, “Damnit, 'cuz I need 'em.” I can admit I have a problem. So, in an effort to cleanse my browser of useless shit, once a month or so I write this best-of-Craigslist blog that consists of a few leads that never really panned out as Secret Handshake fodder but, in my opinion, they’re still worth sharing. So here it is, The best of SLC’s Craigslist Vol. 3:
Actual text from Post: “Can't say for sure but I suspect this official parka from the 2002 winter games might have been worn by Mitt Romney. It's his size and the right color (copper), which wasn't available for sale to the general public; i.e., "you people." Deep pockets, some of them hidden. Reversible, depending upon which way the political winds are blowing. Made in Canada by happy workers with excellent health benefits.”
What This Means: You gotta give it to this guy’s subtle political jabs. But jokes aside, he makes a strong argument. I mean, there's no arguing that this jacket may or may not have belonged to Mitt Romney. Here's what we know. Matt Romney was in Salt Lake City during the 2002 Olympics. Mitt Romney does have arms and a torso, so based on his location in 2002 and the ergonomic design of this jacket, it has to be his. Also, I’d like to point out that I have a pair of leather Isotoner gloves that may or may not have belonged to Steve Buscemi.
Excerpts from post: “So I want to start some kind of fun, satanic cult. Something like Kurbrick's Eyes Wide Shut complete with creepy music and lots of fun orgy-like sex. Just some fun, really. But I will learn the theology of it, too. --We don't really have to 'worship' Satan, but just be conscious of the existence and nature of our own dark sides. My working theory is that we'll be able to get release of our darker impulses through this daring new venture in this stuffy, Mormon environment of Utah. --Send me an e-mail with a pic or spell out your interests. Both sexes, all ages 18 and up and all races are welcome. Please, no animal-sacrifice-minded folks. That's just messy.”
Photo courtesy of Freedigitalphotos.com
What This Means: If he thinks animal sacrifices can get messy, wait till he has a satanic orgy in his living room. Am I right? Guys? Actually, I have no idea what I’m talking about when it comes to the sanitary logistics of a demon orgy. But the fact that he says, "or something fun" leads me to believe he has no clue what he's doing. I have this horrible feeling he has no concept of the evil shit he's about to be unleash in his house. I guarantee this will be him after the first five minutes.
Actual text from post: “Barely used, birthday hat for a dog. Fits all breed of dogs, as long as they have a medium to large head. May also fit a huge cat, llama or red panda -- not recommended for lemurs.”
What This Means: This post was found in the free section of Provo’s Craigslist and it reminds me of a quote that I once heard from South Park's Eric Cartman: “Never underestimate the power of a free hat.” As far as I know, there are two guarantees in life: People love free hats, and they also love dogs. When you combine these two powerful things, what you get is an unstoppable force of Awwwwwesome.
Actual text from post: “Bought this hot tub as a project, but we didn't get very far. Now, I just really need it out of my yard. The inside can be cleaned. The motor works. The hot tub leaks and insulation was removed to find it. We were going to try to destroy it, but perhaps someone out there is looking for parts or a project? If you can haul it, you can have it.”
What this means: I don’t know, but this is the conversation that I’m praying happens when you go to pick up this pile of shit. “Well, we tried kicking it, that didn’t work. We tried punching it and jabbing it with a stick. Hell, we even tried yelling at it real good, too. Didn’t we, YOU LAZY SOMBITCH HOT TUB?! Yup, this stubborn ol’ soakin’ box doesn’t seem to want to work. Well, best of luck to yas.” After you thank him and drive away, the guy shoots at the hot tub as it sits in your trailer.
Excerpts from post: “Here's to the person playing the drums last night at 2 am within a few blocks of my house. I will figure out where you live. Then, I'm going to have a nice big dinner with garlic steak, a huge salad, some beans and, of course, corn. In the middle of the night, I'm going to leave a nice big steamer on your front porch. You'll be able to recognize it by the corn.”
Photo courtesy of Freedigitalphotos.com
What this means: If you’re a drummer in South Jordan, for your own safety: Please stop drumming. You can never drum again. Do you understand this? This guy is damned serious. He’s smart, he’s organized and he loves corn. It could be two in the afternoon and you can bet your ass this guy will whip up that meal he’s been planning and scour the neighborhood, just to pinch off a loaf on your doorstep. Face it, you're drumming days are over. Or, you can test this theory.