Proper Usage of Exclamation Points for People with Mood Disorders

Proper Usage of Exclamation Points for People with Mood Disorders

An exclamation is a “sharp or sudden utterance.” It stands alone and is punctuated by an exclamation point. 

Whee! Whoa! Ugh!

A sentence that follows an exclamation is not part of the exclamation. If the sentence requires an exclamation point, an exclamation point is used. If the sentence expresses bleak and pessimistic sentiment, it is punctuated by a period. 

Darn these new meds! I’ll have to accept that my libido is gone forever. 

Use an exclamation point when warning of imminent danger or suspiciously timed accidents. 

Look out for that bus!

Use a period when confusing danger with paranoia.

Everyone wants to hurt me.

Aggressive, repetitive use of exclamation points cannot make a statement true. Denial is best punctuated with a period.

Absinthe is an FDA-approved medication for bi-polar disorder.

An exclamation point is often required after excessive self-medicating.

Get out of my way! I’m going to be sick!

Use a period when expressing remorse or shame after meaningless sex with a stranger.

I feel dirty.

Use an exclamation point if the meaningless sex was unprotected and unsatisfying.

Holy hell! That was a stupid and desperate stab at intimacy.

When pairing a self-denigrating exclamation with a question, put the exclamation point before the question mark. 

When will I ever learn!?

Or after.

You idiot! Why didn’t you get her number?!

False justification for a loss of interest in activities you once found pleasurable, such as masturbation, eating and breathing, rarely requires an exclamation point.

In Boy Scouts they told us self-gratification is unhealthy and ungodly.

Use a period when lacking the energy or motivation to get out of bed for week-long stretches of time.

I really should empty this bedpan.

Use a period when politely dismissing a friend’s or relative’s concern for your reclusive habits and poor hygiene.

Let me be, please. I like the way I smell.

An exclamation point may be used when, in a rare display of assertiveness, you repudiate a friend or relative who repeatedly insists you smell bad and you look pallid and sickly.

 Go to hell!

Multiple exclamation points may be used if said friend or relative also uses words or phrases like “increased dosage” and “electroconvulsive.”

You’re not my shrink!!!

Use an exclamation point when the voices in your head are yelling.

You’re no good! You’ll never amount to anything no matter how much rebirthing therapy             you get!

Use a period when the voices mumble fatalistic negative self-talk.

 My life is a steaming pile of turds and it will never get better—ever.

Use a question mark when the negative self-talk is rhetorical.

Would anyone really care if I drank this entire 32-ounce bottle of Liquid Plumber?


Let's Yodel

Let's Yodel

Yo-de-lay-he-hoo everyone.

The ropes are finally starting to come down up here. A few Thursdays ago, I was at tower 12 on chair 1 when the rope dropped on Al’s and other parts of the lower front steeps. I saw one patroller come down first then just a couple more skiers. It had me thinking I might get the red carpet treatment, but before I even had the chance to ponder how rare it is to hit Al’s when it’s flat with 15 inches of powder, a foaming, rabid hoard popped out of the trees at the top. The race was on.


Read it all at

Winter is Coming, I hope.

Winter is Coming, I hope.

The forecast for the Taos area is clear and sunny with a high of 68°.  This pattern will hold through the end of the week and next week and the week after that. There is a slight chance for flurries before MLK Weekend.

Though it may not feel like it now, winter is coming. To be precise, it’s coming December 21st, snow or no snow. With some luck, we’ll see some white stuff before then. 

Every year, all four local ski and snowboard resorts, and our one cross country area, offer new and compelling reasons to visit them. Here’s what you can do with all the snow we most definitely going to get.

Read More at LiveTaos

Hope This Helps

Hope This Helps

 Dear Donald,

My husband left me for a yoga instructor. He says I’m no longer the woman he married. I feel like the same person inside, so I suspect his true reason for leaving me is he no longer finds me attractive. I admit I’ve gained a few pounds since we got married, but he has, too. 

Doesn’t love trump (no pun intended) physical appearance? 

Feeling Rejected


Dear Reject.

I don’t like puns. People always say “no pun intended” when they use my name as a synonym for outdo or surpass, but they’re almost always lying. Try using the word “eclipse” instead of my name. Okay? I’m suing Merriam Webster and a kindergarten teacher from Milwaukee for copyright infringement. I’ve worked very hard building my brand, and it’s a great, great brand.

Regarding your question, love can Trump® physical appearance. However, this is only true in limited situations, like, for example, if the wife is equally hot as the mistress. Still, you can’t blame a guy for leaving his wife for a woman who’s hotter. And if she’s hot and a yoga instructor, the sex must be outrageously better than what he’s getting at home. Have you thought about taking some yoga classes?

How much weight have you gained? If you’re tall - both Melania and Ivanka are 5’ 11” - you can get away with gaining up to five pounds without risking your marriage. Multi-billionaires like me usually have BMI clauses in our prenups.

I’ve been divorced twice and I know it was devastating to my ex-wives. You should take solace in knowing you are not alone; the vast majority of American women are pigs.

Hope this helps.


Dear Donald,

My wife and I recently relocated to New York from Evansville, Indiana, for her new job. I’m currently between careers. We can live off my wife’s salary comfortably, not by your standards, of course, but I’m already getting bored. My wife said I should try flipping houses in New York. I think it’s a pretty smart idea. Got any advice for a country boy new to the big city?

Hoosier Jim

Dear Hoser Jim,

My first piece of advice for you is to grow some balls, or at least hang some truck nuts from your belt. Your wife’s career comes first? She’s at work and you’re at home playing house hubby. Pathetic. 

As for flipping houses in Manhattan, I think it’s a great idea, and I’m sure the women in your coffee klatch would agree. If it weren’t for the unfair treatment of me and my prestigious Trump University by a sad and broken U.S. legal system, you could be a multi-millionaire by next week. Fortunately, you can still buy my best-selling books. I wrote every word of them, even the copyright pages and the Amazon product details. The title alone of Think Big and Kick Ass is worth the purchase price. Remember, the more copies you buy, the better chance for success you’ll have.

Finally, a word of warning: Manhattan real estate is expensive. A condo the size of your chicken coop back in Hicksville or Podunkburg, or wherever the blaze you’re from is $4,000,000. Do you have that kind of money? I bet you don’t. Does anyone in Indiana have that kind of money?

Hope this helps.


Dear Donald,

I just found out the name of the young man my daughter has been dating isn’t Paul, like she told me. It’s Pablo. He’s a Mexican. My daughter told me Pablo’s family has been in California since 1837, when Antonio Bustamante made one of his ancestors governor of Alta California. But a Mexican is still a Mexican, even if he is a member of the Stanford the Law Review, right?

I’m uneasy about my daughter dating a Mexican and, frankly, a little concerned for her safety. Would you let your daughter date a Mexican?

Worried Mom

Dear Worrisome Mom,

It depends on which daughter you’re talking about. I have two. As for my sons, I’m not sure I would let any of them date a Mexican woman either. A spicy Colombian or Venezuelan Miss Universe contestant would clearly be okay. If she were Miss Honduras, probably not. Fortunately, Muslim countries don’t participate in Miss Universe, so that’s one less worry I have as the father of three sons.

So, my advice for you today is don’t let her date a Mexican. They can’t be trusted. You should rescue her before Pablo rapes her, if he hasn’t already. On second thought, you might want to wait a week or so. My advice may change.

Hope this helps.


Dear Donald,

My father told me only homosexuals wear cufflinks, although he phrased it differently. Can this be true?

Melvin in Tacoma

Dear, uh, Melvin,

Yeah, yeah, yeah. I’ve been told that a million times. I’ve also been told that cufflinks were invented as a way for queers to identify each other, like pink triangles and cutoffs. It’s all bullshit. If anything, cufflinks make you look more manly. My Trump Collection crystal center cufflinks, the #1,747 cufflink on Amazon, will make you look so obviously hetero that no gay dude would ever mistake you for a player on his team. If you can’t afford to buy mine, you could just borrow a set from your father.

Hope this helps.


Punta Hermosa

Punta Hermosa

I started writing this piece on Joaquin and Ricardo in 2010. Joaquin's hard work has paid off. His generous sponsors are sending him all over the world to surf.

Peony Season is Coming

Peony Season is Coming

Every June, the peonies in our gardens explode. It's one of my favorite times of the year.



The Spanish first brought African slaves to Peru in the 16th Century (slavery was abolished in Peru in 1854). The 500-year African history in Peru has given Afro-Peruvian music a long time to evolve—and fade from the public consciousness. In the 1950’s, poet and singer Nicomedes Santa Cruz and others helped revive the genre and restore some of the cultural identity of Afro-Peruvians. Stars like Lucila Campos, Roberto Rivas, Eva Ayllon, and perhaps the best know Peruvian musician, Susan Baca, have kept it going. But until Novalima began mixing in beats and bass—lots of bass—an entire generation wasn’t in on it. Now it’s common to see multiple generations at a Novalima show.

God's Performance Review

God's Performance Review

I think it’s your low energy levels. Sixty-five million years ago you killed the dinosaurs—and nearly everything else on the planet—because you fell asleep at your workstation.

It was the double dose of Nyquil I had for breakfast. And I didn’t kill them, an asteroid did.

You mean a meteor.

Asteroid, meteor, whatever. It wasn’t my fault.

We’re holding a mesospheric management seminar after work on Tuesday. You should attend.

Is it paid?

No. But it’s catered.

I have an AA meeting. But I might be willing to skip it if there’s an open bar.