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Who Moved My Choose?: An Amazing Way to Deal With Change by Deciding to Let Indecision Into Your Life
This book has nothing to do with cats. Or mice. Or self-motivation. This book is 100% 50% finished. But don’t worry, I finished the good half. But don’t be mistaken—the good half isn’t good at all. In fact, it’s remarkably terrible. It’s only good in relation to the half I didn’t get around to writing. After all, the worst writing is the writing that couldn’t be bothered to be written down.
54 pages, Kindle Edition
First published November 26, 2011
About the author
Jarod Kintz
110 books1,683 followersThis is it, this is my biography. The story of Jarod Kintz begins now.
Let’s knock out the trivial first. I was born in Salt Lake City on March 5th. Now that you know my birthday, please feel free to get me birthday presents. Notice how I used the plural, presents? More than one gift would be greatly appreciated. Appropriate gifts include gold coins, bars of silver, and large tracts of land (preferably beachfront property). Or you could just buy me a drink—soda, natural, because I don’t drink either alcohol or high fructose corn syrup.
Skipping ahead a few years, and a few hundred miles, we come to Denver, Colorado. For a few years I attended Mackintosh Academy. In the second grade, along with English, I studied French, Spanish, and Japanese. Out of all those language classes, I remember one word: Andrea. That was my girlfriend at the time, the one who left me for my best friend. I guess I remember two words, as I remember his name too, but his name is almost sacred, as a name that shall never be uttered.
Right after second grade ended my family moved to Jacksonville, Florida. It was Jacksonville that I would come to know as home, and would attend the rest of my schooling until college.
At this point I was a mediocre student. I believe I had a perfect 2.0 grade point average from third grade until I graduated from high school. My favorite classes were art, P.E., and lunch. Oh, is one of those not a class? No way—I believe art is still considered a class.
When not cracking jokes in class, I would be doing one of three things: drawing, passing notes, or sleeping. In high school I started to not only be mentally absent from class, but physically gone too. I’d skip class like a flat rock skips across a pond.
After high school, it was on to college. In all I have attended six colleges. I bounced around like a dodgeball on a trampoline. If you count the college classes I took starting my junior year of high school, then I got my four-year degree in nine years. And if you’re going to do something, you might as well do it at least twice as well as everybody else—or at least at least twice as long.
I graduated with an English degree from the University of Florida, but I took creative writing classes from both UF and Florida State University. All though college I fancied myself a fancy man, because I was an aspiring writer. Mostly I wrote t-shirt slogans and other pithy things. In the spring of 2005 I did manage to sell a line of t-shirts to Urban Outfitters.
That is my lone success in life. Seriously. Well, so far anyway. But my story is just beginning. I plan on failing my way to success. I have been rejected by literary agents, publishers, MFA programs, all sorts of women. But still I keep writing.
I have written many “books,” and I use the term books loosely. Mostly they are just compilations of my random thoughts and one-liners. But I like writing them, and people seem to like reading them. and that’s what it’s all about, right?
All my books are self-published, either through iUniverse or the wonderful Amazon Kindle program. I encourage everybody to write. Share yourself with the world. If there is one thing I like to impress upon people, it’s that you can do it, even if you can’t. Just keep can’ting until eventually you can. And you can quote me on that.
Let’s knock out the trivial first. I was born in Salt Lake City on March 5th. Now that you know my birthday, please feel free to get me birthday presents. Notice how I used the plural, presents? More than one gift would be greatly appreciated. Appropriate gifts include gold coins, bars of silver, and large tracts of land (preferably beachfront property). Or you could just buy me a drink—soda, natural, because I don’t drink either alcohol or high fructose corn syrup.
Skipping ahead a few years, and a few hundred miles, we come to Denver, Colorado. For a few years I attended Mackintosh Academy. In the second grade, along with English, I studied French, Spanish, and Japanese. Out of all those language classes, I remember one word: Andrea. That was my girlfriend at the time, the one who left me for my best friend. I guess I remember two words, as I remember his name too, but his name is almost sacred, as a name that shall never be uttered.
Right after second grade ended my family moved to Jacksonville, Florida. It was Jacksonville that I would come to know as home, and would attend the rest of my schooling until college.
At this point I was a mediocre student. I believe I had a perfect 2.0 grade point average from third grade until I graduated from high school. My favorite classes were art, P.E., and lunch. Oh, is one of those not a class? No way—I believe art is still considered a class.
When not cracking jokes in class, I would be doing one of three things: drawing, passing notes, or sleeping. In high school I started to not only be mentally absent from class, but physically gone too. I’d skip class like a flat rock skips across a pond.
After high school, it was on to college. In all I have attended six colleges. I bounced around like a dodgeball on a trampoline. If you count the college classes I took starting my junior year of high school, then I got my four-year degree in nine years. And if you’re going to do something, you might as well do it at least twice as well as everybody else—or at least at least twice as long.
I graduated with an English degree from the University of Florida, but I took creative writing classes from both UF and Florida State University. All though college I fancied myself a fancy man, because I was an aspiring writer. Mostly I wrote t-shirt slogans and other pithy things. In the spring of 2005 I did manage to sell a line of t-shirts to Urban Outfitters.
That is my lone success in life. Seriously. Well, so far anyway. But my story is just beginning. I plan on failing my way to success. I have been rejected by literary agents, publishers, MFA programs, all sorts of women. But still I keep writing.
I have written many “books,” and I use the term books loosely. Mostly they are just compilations of my random thoughts and one-liners. But I like writing them, and people seem to like reading them. and that’s what it’s all about, right?
All my books are self-published, either through iUniverse or the wonderful Amazon Kindle program. I encourage everybody to write. Share yourself with the world. If there is one thing I like to impress upon people, it’s that you can do it, even if you can’t. Just keep can’ting until eventually you can. And you can quote me on that.
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Displaying 1 - 4 of 4 reviews
September 23, 2014
I bought this book for its title, thinking it was a sattire to business self-help books. But it has nothing to do with it. And I'm not sure I am the person more adequate to rate this book.
There are jokes about penis, but I'm a woman.
There are puns, but as a non-native English speaker, I don't get half of them.
There are references to American culture, and I'm quite oblivious about what things like "Orafoura" mean.
There are "everyday jokes", but, as someone who doesn't share the same lifestyle, I also don't get them.
And a lot of thoughts about clones. Which I understood (Hallelluyah!), but i didn't figure what they were doing in the context of the book.
In resume, this is a collection of puns, anecdotes, or simply witty thoughts. And as any collection of jokes, there is always that "What the hell? I'm abandoning this book!" joke, immediately followed by another that is"LOL I HAVE to keep readig this." So I feel very ambivalent and wouldn't dare give it a bad rating because I know I don't have what it takes for it.
There are jokes about penis, but I'm a woman.
There are puns, but as a non-native English speaker, I don't get half of them.
There are references to American culture, and I'm quite oblivious about what things like "Orafoura" mean.
There are "everyday jokes", but, as someone who doesn't share the same lifestyle, I also don't get them.
And a lot of thoughts about clones. Which I understood (Hallelluyah!), but i didn't figure what they were doing in the context of the book.
In resume, this is a collection of puns, anecdotes, or simply witty thoughts. And as any collection of jokes, there is always that "What the hell? I'm abandoning this book!" joke, immediately followed by another that is"LOL I HAVE to keep readig this." So I feel very ambivalent and wouldn't dare give it a bad rating because I know I don't have what it takes for it.
November 30, 2011
Gol, this book was funny. All these great quotes get me to suspectin' that Mr. Kintz is like some urbane clone of myself. I might be able to relate to that, if city slickers weren't all morally depraved. But I think Mr. Kintz is so depraved as to be just about the most likable guy I've never met.
What I could relate to, though, was the piece addressed to 'Miss Hummingbird.' It certainly takes a sharp person to be able to grasp the level of wit in those thoughts. I wouldn't want to have to read a letter like that, it would put awful pressure on my conscience to laugh, what with the author's voice in my head reading on as I'm struggling to understand. This Miss Hummingbird must be one sophisticated gal.
All in all, this was probably the best self-help book I've ever read. It's the only time I've ever felt that I made progress for not making a decision about my life.
What I could relate to, though, was the piece addressed to 'Miss Hummingbird.' It certainly takes a sharp person to be able to grasp the level of wit in those thoughts. I wouldn't want to have to read a letter like that, it would put awful pressure on my conscience to laugh, what with the author's voice in my head reading on as I'm struggling to understand. This Miss Hummingbird must be one sophisticated gal.
All in all, this was probably the best self-help book I've ever read. It's the only time I've ever felt that I made progress for not making a decision about my life.
October 6, 2014
After reading, or rather enduring, this thing in the summer of 2012, I began looking into a few other of Kintz's 'works' and I have to say I am baffled by the existence of his career in satire, or as a humorist, or really writing in any way.
He commits the cardinal sin of humorism -- he's not funny.
He commits the cardinal sin of satire -- he's not satirical.
Jokes about sex or politics, and those ever-present 'it's funny because it's true' cultural issues, may be done to death in this field of writing but just the same, they should all be 'gimme's in today's reading world, yet they all just fall flat:
“What’s with the zombie craze? Zombies are half alive, half dead, right? Sounds like my wife in bed.” Wow. Hilarious and original.
"I’m interested in women as a whole, not simply as three holes." Another real zinger we've never read or heard before from numerous bars and bad cable sitcoms.
“Me and my wife are happy. At least when we are not together.” How ungrammatically, unoriginally funny.
With few exceptions, each quip in this book ends with a tired rim shot that leaves the reader perplexed over why the book was in the humor section... or why it was purchased at all.
And then there are the observations or quips, or whatever they're supposed to be, which defy any attempt to 'get' them:
“It’s not really masturbating if you’re jacking your clone off. It’s more like politics.”
“I want to be the first and second man to dance on the moon. No, I won’t moonwalk. But I will Cha Cha — with my clone.”
“My clones better not wear invisible cloaks. How am I supposed to find myself as a person if I can’t even find my clones?”
Oh, yeah. Forgot to mention he has this thing about clones for some reason. How mid-'90s of him.
But of all the rip-roaring genius on display here, this last quip should let you know exactly the kind of brilliant, fresh humor you can expect throughout:
“The ultimate weapon is Lady Gaga’s music. Why kill the enemy when you can play her music and they’ll want to kill themselves? ” Really, author? You really felt this was worth writing? Leaving in there? It didn't occur to you that perhaps this exact joke has been used/said about every musician or band in history, *all* throughout history? Had YOU never heard it before? Did you think you'd originated it?
You're just not funny, Kintz. This is grade school, high school humor; it is like 'A Treasury of 1001 Quips For Your Next Timeshare Presentation That'll Knock 'Em Dead.'
I am sure that will be the title of his next bloated, unfunny 'style' of 'humor'.
Avoid like the ignorant, unfunny pap it is.
He commits the cardinal sin of humorism -- he's not funny.
He commits the cardinal sin of satire -- he's not satirical.
Jokes about sex or politics, and those ever-present 'it's funny because it's true' cultural issues, may be done to death in this field of writing but just the same, they should all be 'gimme's in today's reading world, yet they all just fall flat:
“What’s with the zombie craze? Zombies are half alive, half dead, right? Sounds like my wife in bed.” Wow. Hilarious and original.
"I’m interested in women as a whole, not simply as three holes." Another real zinger we've never read or heard before from numerous bars and bad cable sitcoms.
“Me and my wife are happy. At least when we are not together.” How ungrammatically, unoriginally funny.
With few exceptions, each quip in this book ends with a tired rim shot that leaves the reader perplexed over why the book was in the humor section... or why it was purchased at all.
And then there are the observations or quips, or whatever they're supposed to be, which defy any attempt to 'get' them:
“It’s not really masturbating if you’re jacking your clone off. It’s more like politics.”
“I want to be the first and second man to dance on the moon. No, I won’t moonwalk. But I will Cha Cha — with my clone.”
“My clones better not wear invisible cloaks. How am I supposed to find myself as a person if I can’t even find my clones?”
Oh, yeah. Forgot to mention he has this thing about clones for some reason. How mid-'90s of him.
But of all the rip-roaring genius on display here, this last quip should let you know exactly the kind of brilliant, fresh humor you can expect throughout:
“The ultimate weapon is Lady Gaga’s music. Why kill the enemy when you can play her music and they’ll want to kill themselves? ” Really, author? You really felt this was worth writing? Leaving in there? It didn't occur to you that perhaps this exact joke has been used/said about every musician or band in history, *all* throughout history? Had YOU never heard it before? Did you think you'd originated it?
You're just not funny, Kintz. This is grade school, high school humor; it is like 'A Treasury of 1001 Quips For Your Next Timeshare Presentation That'll Knock 'Em Dead.'
I am sure that will be the title of his next bloated, unfunny 'style' of 'humor'.
Avoid like the ignorant, unfunny pap it is.
Read
February 5, 2014this is a good book
Displaying 1 - 4 of 4 reviews