Pseudo Information

So What Do You Do?
I’m a Professional Liar

I write the pseudo information on the boxes of consumer goods like cereals, crackers and maxi pads.

Honey Nut Poppers are an excellent source of 11 vitamins and minerals, Crackerlack may help reduce the risk of heart disease, Maxi Rag offers great leak protection and cottony softness helps keep you feeling comfortable and confident throughout the day and the night.

My Pseudo Information Agency only works with dry goods, the dairy industry has its own writers, just like the weapons industry, automobile producers and Viagra. Weapons don’t kill people, people kill people, you don’t actually believe that shit do you?

And having a boner doesn’t actually make your sex life better. You’re still the worst sexual fuck up ever, you still can’t screw your wife the way she needs it. Before Viagra, you’d at least just bother her for 2 minutes.Now with the varicose vein colored pill that lets him be “all man for up to four hours”. No woman wants to shove a dildo in her pussy for up to four hours! And this dildo even has a wrinkly 62 year-old attached to it, including a soundtrack of rasps and gurgles and the occasional drooling.

For 42 years she’d endured his humping and moaning without ever climaxing, then he’d become impotent. She thought of it as her reward for hanging in there, finally some peace and quiet. “The captain left the ship.” When she’d kneeled before him, sucking him off for 45 minutes, her left knee and hip hurting from rheumatism, her delicate, slightly knobby fingers working and jerking for 45 minutes. Her sundried tomato lips grinding along the shriveled date of a penis.

She’d tried all all the techniques she’d acquired while being semi-faithful to her husband (the occasional hair dresser or gynecologist didn’t count): swiveling her tongue on his tip, humming while he was in her, twisting with her hand, pulling on the enlarged testicles, even sticking a finger in his ass.

No 63 year old woman should have to be on her knees this long unless she’s backstage at the Jacksonville Symphony Hall sucking off Robert Goulet. “See, I told you Helen, the captain has left the ship,” he’d sigh. She’d pat his thigh and get up, smiling to herself and her new-found freedom, “Yes, Bob.” Fuck you, Viagra!

Anyway, I come up with those fantastical statements; I turn a pile of manure into gluten-free, non-dairy cranberry sawdust cookies. Pure shit gets transformed into wholesome goodness, like turning water into wine! Who needs Jesus when you have me at the Pseudo Information Agency?! Jesus was God’s marketing director, I hope he got a hell of a bonus.

When people ask me, I say that I work for a German magazine. Where do I come up with this shit? A German magazine!? I never thought of what I’d say when someone asked what publishing house or what circulation, nobody ever does. People don’t ask nowadays. And if you don’t ask, it doesn’t exist.

I don’t know why I make up this stuff, it’s not like we’re a secret agency. We just like to keep knowledge of our existence on the back-burner; hey America, focus on mortgage rates and a politician’s infidelity rather than being totally duped and fucked over by your beloved consumerism and health fanaticism.

I mean you’ve all stood in front of a supermarket’s beauty section, looking for a cream. You pick one box up, then another, you scrutinize them, twist them upside down, compare the weight, maybe even throw them in the air. Then you read what I’ve written and decide that one is better than the other. Bullshit. My bullshit.