Sometimes I wonder if I watch too much television. What IS too much television? How many hours a week are considered okay? At my age, isn't that just a judgment call?
When I was a kid I remember there being strict regulation on the number of hours spent watching television. My sister and I had a set number of hours per week and we spent them like cash, watching parent-approved programming. Maybe that's why, now, my television is on every waking moment...because I am my own boss now, and those old school rules no longer apply. My time is my own and I can do what I want with it. I also buy a lot of sugary kids cereal because I can. Getting older has a lot of drawbacks - from bills to anxiety - one of its perks is that you can watch as much television as you want.
I must admit there are other, more productive things I could be doing with the idle hours I spend fusing with the cushions of my couch. I could be playing poker online, for example. Or annoying the neighbors by playing guitar. Or reading books - I hear reading is good for mental fitness. Or maybe I could be writing the book everyone says I need to write. No one has any idea what the book would be about, least of all me, but everyone agrees I need to write one. Every time I have an idea for a topic, the comment is the same: "Sounds good, I can't wait to read it." Yeah. And I can't wait to write it. On the commercial, of course.
I like television. Sweet, glorious television. When I come home from work I religiously do two things, in this order: Remove pants, turn on television. Most of the time there's not even anything worth watching - I just like the sound of stuff going on in the background. Makes me feel connected somehow. So I go about my chores or other business while listening to ESPN news, CNN, or that funky jazz music they're always jamming on the Weather Channel. Or Fox News Channel when I need a good laugh. Doesn't really matter - I just like the company...even when I'm in the company of others.
I personally don't think I watch too much television because I'm not really WATCHING it most of the time. It's just on. In terms of actual programming, there are really only a few shows I get excited about, and the total number of hours spent watching is roughly comparable to the number of hours I watched as a kid.
Here's my top 10:
1. Survivor - there's nothing like the real thing, baby. The Amazing Race is fun to catch every once in a while, but Survivor hooked me early on and I never gave it up. Gotta love people playing mind games in the tropics. Yeah, I'm a huge dork.
2. Lost - I was addicted to the DVD collection of season one, but missed the start of season two. So now I have to avoid it every week in order to preserve the integrity of the story. Hoping to catch it in reruns over the summer. Best drama by a mile.
3. The Office - I can actually sit through the same episode more than once. Back to back. The best comedy hands down.
4. The Sopranos - I'm thankful HBO gives us a number of chances to catch this bad boy over the course of the week, especially since it's on opposite Desperate Housewives.
5. Desperate Housewives - I admit it...I watch it, and I enjoy it. Not as much as last season, of course, but I still enjoy tuning in to find out what those zany ladies are going to do next.
6. Grey's Anatomy - Didn't really care for this one when it first came out, but the use of popular music as a story-telling device gave it a curious appeal. I must admit, I do enjoy this dramedy one as well.
7. Scrubs - Close second to the Office for best comedy on television. I don't laugh out loud often, but this show consistently makes me do it.
8. My Name is Earl - Love the concept here, and Randy is a riot. Interesting how my three favorite comedies are among the few on television that don't insult me with a laugh track. Don't tell me when I'm supposed to be laughing - if it's funny, I'll do it on my own. In fact, a fourth favorite comedy would have been Arrested Development, had the show made it.
9. The Apprentice - Big mistake moving it to Monday. I didn't even realize they'd started a new season until it was two weeks in. But Burnett knows how to put together compelling hour-long dramas, so it's always an hour well wasted.
10. The Late Late Show with Craig Ferguson - That Scottish dude is fucking hilarious. Have you ever listened to his monologues? He just rambles on about nonsense for minutes on end - not unlike myself on these very pages, come to think of it. Good stuff.
I also watch a shitload of sports - but that doesn't really count because it's biologically unavoidable. Watching sports is hard-coded in my Y chromosome.
Oh - hey, gotta run. Commercial's over.
Wednesday, March 15, 2006
Tuesday, March 14, 2006
URINALYSIS NEGATIVE
Thanks to Karen and Randy for sharing this. According to their forward, the following mural was created by Edge Designs, a woman-run company that designs interior office space. With free rein to design anything they wanted for an office project in NYC, the following design was presented.
If you thought you had stagefright before...
Stagefright is actually a pretty interesting phenomenon that has escaped scientific explanation for years. Also known as Urinalzheimer's, Stagefright is the propensity for the body to "forget" how to discharge urine while the host body is standing in a crowded restroom. The more people in the restroom, and the closer their proximity to the subject, the more severe the symptoms of Urinalzheimer's. Researchers have noted two exceptions to this.
1.) Alcohol's ability to inhibit social awareness actually enables the body to perform as normal in these situations, regardless of how many other people are in the immediate vicinity.
2.) A temporary condition informally referred to as "Fat Dick Days" can facilitate the public urination process. Unfortunately, the "Fat Dick Days" condition is equally mysterious.
"On Fat Dick Days, the male member actually appears more massive in stature - fuller, girthier, and more robust," says Dr. Frank Borscht of the Research Institute for Well Hungarians. "Just as the male sex organ reflexively shrivels up in cold temperatures, it can also swell and expand under other conditions...even in a flaccid state. Armed with an usually fat dick, Urinalzheimer's is not an issue. We just haven't figured out what causes fat dick yet, but it may be the key to defeating Urinalzheimer's for good."
Until then, men will have to rely on alcohol, urinal dividers, and courtesy distance ettiquette when relieving themselves in the presence of other men.
If you thought you had stagefright before...Stagefright is actually a pretty interesting phenomenon that has escaped scientific explanation for years. Also known as Urinalzheimer's, Stagefright is the propensity for the body to "forget" how to discharge urine while the host body is standing in a crowded restroom. The more people in the restroom, and the closer their proximity to the subject, the more severe the symptoms of Urinalzheimer's. Researchers have noted two exceptions to this.
1.) Alcohol's ability to inhibit social awareness actually enables the body to perform as normal in these situations, regardless of how many other people are in the immediate vicinity.
2.) A temporary condition informally referred to as "Fat Dick Days" can facilitate the public urination process. Unfortunately, the "Fat Dick Days" condition is equally mysterious.
"On Fat Dick Days, the male member actually appears more massive in stature - fuller, girthier, and more robust," says Dr. Frank Borscht of the Research Institute for Well Hungarians. "Just as the male sex organ reflexively shrivels up in cold temperatures, it can also swell and expand under other conditions...even in a flaccid state. Armed with an usually fat dick, Urinalzheimer's is not an issue. We just haven't figured out what causes fat dick yet, but it may be the key to defeating Urinalzheimer's for good."
Until then, men will have to rely on alcohol, urinal dividers, and courtesy distance ettiquette when relieving themselves in the presence of other men.
COLOR UNCOORDINATED
So we're sitting in a shoe store over the weekend and Geri asks me a question that may or may not have been rhetorical.
"You DO know that those colors don't go together, right?"
I glanced down at what I was wearing. A light brown sweater over a chocolate brown t-shirt, light brown cords, and a tan coat.
"No, Geri," I admitted. "How would I know that? I'm a fashion retard. I figured everything was a shade of brown, so it all would match."
"No," she replied. "That's not how it works."
This may go a long way toward explaining why people don't always take my ideas seriously at work.
(It couldn't be the ideas themselves!)
"You DO know that those colors don't go together, right?"
I glanced down at what I was wearing. A light brown sweater over a chocolate brown t-shirt, light brown cords, and a tan coat.
"No, Geri," I admitted. "How would I know that? I'm a fashion retard. I figured everything was a shade of brown, so it all would match."
"No," she replied. "That's not how it works."
This may go a long way toward explaining why people don't always take my ideas seriously at work.
(It couldn't be the ideas themselves!)
Friday, March 10, 2006
NEWS FOR THE SOMEWHAT OUT OF TOUCH
Have you noticed how a lot of news these days really isn’t news at all? Consider all of the blockbuster stories from just the past week.
**
The bachelor and his pick to click are no longer seeing one another. Actually, they were never really seeing one another. Following the taping of the final show, producers forbid the two would-be lovebirds from spending any time together for the purpose of keeping Dr. Bachelor’s selection a secret. That secret is what made the show a draw each week. Both the bachelor and his prize pick now claim that the 4 months between their Paris matchmaking adventure and now have forced them apart. Makes the feelings they confessed to one another sound about as genuine as Barry Bonds.
**
Speaking of Barry…I’m sure you heard the word on his ass. Literally. Barry did steroids. Ho hum. Anything else we need to know? The difference this time is that the book detailing his rampant abuse was written by a couple of respected journalists – not an ex-ball player with dollar signs in his eyes. Everybody (yes, everybody) has been suspecting it all along, but no one has been able to prove anything – probably because people who use steroids don’t keep videotaped journals of their asscapades. The book reportedly describes Barry’s steroid regimen in such detail it would be virtually impossible to refute. Nevertheless, the story has been refuted.
**
Here’s another shocker for you. According to the AP, a report on the Roman Catholic archdiocese of Dublin says over 100 priests are suspected of sexually or physically abusing AT LEAST 350 children since 1940. Frightening how sexual predators gravitate to a career in the cloth, where the twisted interests of their libido can be served under the protection of service to God. Is there a pervert handbook that recommends the priesthood to aspiring child molesters? I don’t understand how so many pedophiles wind up becoming champions of morality.
**
Interior secretary Gale Norton resigned today. Another one of Bush’s cabinet members bailing for “personal” reasons. Shock! I’m surprised she lasted as long as she did. There’s more turnover in the Bush Administration than the late-night shift at Taco Bell. Bush’s approval rating, meanwhile, continues to plummet, reaching its all-time low this week at just 37%. For comparison, Clinton and Reagan both enjoyed approval ratings in the mid-60s at this point in their second terms. Doesn’t look like Dubya will be receiving an Employee of the Month plaque.
**
What else? Iran threatened the U.S. with “harm and pain” over our insistence that the nation be referred to the U.N. Security Council over the suspected pursuit of nuclear arms. La-dee-da. People in the Middle East shaking their fists at America’s interventionist foreign policy. That’s not news – that’s par for the couscous.
**
So yeah – no real surprises this week. Just more of the same news packaged as information you need to know, when all you really need to know is that none of this matters to the hamster tirelessly trotting away in a little spinning wheel in the basement of the sun, keeping it burning bright while we pretend life is all about us.
When the hamster gets tired, we all go away.
**
The bachelor and his pick to click are no longer seeing one another. Actually, they were never really seeing one another. Following the taping of the final show, producers forbid the two would-be lovebirds from spending any time together for the purpose of keeping Dr. Bachelor’s selection a secret. That secret is what made the show a draw each week. Both the bachelor and his prize pick now claim that the 4 months between their Paris matchmaking adventure and now have forced them apart. Makes the feelings they confessed to one another sound about as genuine as Barry Bonds.
**
Speaking of Barry…I’m sure you heard the word on his ass. Literally. Barry did steroids. Ho hum. Anything else we need to know? The difference this time is that the book detailing his rampant abuse was written by a couple of respected journalists – not an ex-ball player with dollar signs in his eyes. Everybody (yes, everybody) has been suspecting it all along, but no one has been able to prove anything – probably because people who use steroids don’t keep videotaped journals of their asscapades. The book reportedly describes Barry’s steroid regimen in such detail it would be virtually impossible to refute. Nevertheless, the story has been refuted.
**
Here’s another shocker for you. According to the AP, a report on the Roman Catholic archdiocese of Dublin says over 100 priests are suspected of sexually or physically abusing AT LEAST 350 children since 1940. Frightening how sexual predators gravitate to a career in the cloth, where the twisted interests of their libido can be served under the protection of service to God. Is there a pervert handbook that recommends the priesthood to aspiring child molesters? I don’t understand how so many pedophiles wind up becoming champions of morality.
**
Interior secretary Gale Norton resigned today. Another one of Bush’s cabinet members bailing for “personal” reasons. Shock! I’m surprised she lasted as long as she did. There’s more turnover in the Bush Administration than the late-night shift at Taco Bell. Bush’s approval rating, meanwhile, continues to plummet, reaching its all-time low this week at just 37%. For comparison, Clinton and Reagan both enjoyed approval ratings in the mid-60s at this point in their second terms. Doesn’t look like Dubya will be receiving an Employee of the Month plaque.
**
What else? Iran threatened the U.S. with “harm and pain” over our insistence that the nation be referred to the U.N. Security Council over the suspected pursuit of nuclear arms. La-dee-da. People in the Middle East shaking their fists at America’s interventionist foreign policy. That’s not news – that’s par for the couscous.
**
So yeah – no real surprises this week. Just more of the same news packaged as information you need to know, when all you really need to know is that none of this matters to the hamster tirelessly trotting away in a little spinning wheel in the basement of the sun, keeping it burning bright while we pretend life is all about us.
When the hamster gets tired, we all go away.
Thursday, March 09, 2006
THE SIMPSONS UNCOLORED
Want to see something cool? Don’t pretend you’re not interested when you know you are.
Here’s a video that imagines what the Simpsons would look like if it wasn’t animated. Very well done!
Here’s a video that imagines what the Simpsons would look like if it wasn’t animated. Very well done!
KITTEN KABOOMLE!
My buddy Ed just sent me this screen capture of the highest Kitten Cannon score I've ever seen. Ed would not tell me how many hours he spent firing a cartoon cat out of a cannon to get this score, but the ancient Egyptians were likely able to cobble together a Sphinx in less time. This score is a modern day wonder.
Wow.
GREAT MOMENTS IN HISTORY
After a third day of intense cross-examination in the case against Saddamassacre Hussein, the deposed dictator finally cracked. Standing up suddenly a fit of rage, he confronted the court, shouting: "You wanted the truth about your weapons of mass destruction? I gave you the truth! But you can't handle the truth!"
He then struck a James Bond pose, winked at the jury, and farted loudly. He later denied farting as the courtroom was cleared.
AUTHOR UNKNOWN
"Life is tragic for those who have plenty to live on and nothing to live for."
- Unknown
***********
I don't know who this Unknown guy is, but he ought to write a book or something. He's always got such clever, insightful things to say!
Better yet, maybe I'll just change my name to "Unknown" so I can take credit for all of his shit. And then I'll change my name back to Terry Mertens! YES! It's brilliant! Prince changed his name a half dozen fucking times - once to a fucking Rorschach blob! If he can do it, so can I. From now on my name is Unknown and I am the greatest unsung genius of our time. But you already knew that. Here are some other pearls of wisdom I've got for you.
"A wise man can see more from the bottom of a well than a fool can from a mountain top."
"Artificial Intelligence is no match for natural stupidity."
"True friendship comes when silence between two people is comfortable."
"A friend is someone who knows the song in your heart and sings it back to you when you have forgotten how it goes."
"The only true wisdom consists in knowing that you know nothing."
"It isn't the mountains ahead that wear you out, it's the grain of sand in your shoe."
"Don't be afraid to take one large step because you can't cross a chasm in two small leaps."
"If a man shits in the woods and there's no one around to hear it fall, did he really shit at all?"
(That last one keeps me up at night)
Yeah, one day you'll think back upon your life and be glad you knew me. Maybe not today. But one day.
- Unknown
***********
I don't know who this Unknown guy is, but he ought to write a book or something. He's always got such clever, insightful things to say!
Better yet, maybe I'll just change my name to "Unknown" so I can take credit for all of his shit. And then I'll change my name back to Terry Mertens! YES! It's brilliant! Prince changed his name a half dozen fucking times - once to a fucking Rorschach blob! If he can do it, so can I. From now on my name is Unknown and I am the greatest unsung genius of our time. But you already knew that. Here are some other pearls of wisdom I've got for you.
"A wise man can see more from the bottom of a well than a fool can from a mountain top."
"Artificial Intelligence is no match for natural stupidity."
"True friendship comes when silence between two people is comfortable."
"A friend is someone who knows the song in your heart and sings it back to you when you have forgotten how it goes."
"The only true wisdom consists in knowing that you know nothing."
"It isn't the mountains ahead that wear you out, it's the grain of sand in your shoe."
"Don't be afraid to take one large step because you can't cross a chasm in two small leaps."
"If a man shits in the woods and there's no one around to hear it fall, did he really shit at all?"
(That last one keeps me up at night)
Yeah, one day you'll think back upon your life and be glad you knew me. Maybe not today. But one day.
Wednesday, March 08, 2006
HELLO, AND WELCOME TO AYNtK
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Tuesday, March 07, 2006
ONE FLU OVER THE CUCKOO'S NEST
It finally happened. It was only a matter of time.
I finally contracted Asian Bird Flu. I don’t know how, but I’ve been sick for two days now. Geri tells me it’s just a cold, but I know better. Sore throat, stuffy head, sinus issues, malaise. Yeah, malaise. All the signs are there. Asian bird flu. I’m totally fucked.
I’m guessing it had to be those filthy pigeons staking claim to Geri’s balcony. Or the day I ran to my car without a coat on. But Geri informed me that people don’t get sick from going outside without a coat on.
“This isn’t just sick, Geri. It’s the Asian Bird Flu!”
Okay – so I probably don’t have Asian bird flu – but from news reports I find it hard to believe we’re not all going to have some form of it within a few months. Is the global epidemic simply scare journalism, or something I really need to be concerned about? Last I read, you practically have to French kiss an infected duck to contract it, and yet it’s a recurring news report day after frightening day.
Here comes the Asian bird flu – starts with them, jumps to you!
To be honest, I’ve been more perplexed about this common cold thing we haven’t managed to whip. How can we possibly tackle avian influenza when we can’t even beat the sniffles?
And why are we told to stay warm or we’ll catch a cold…when there’s zero chance of getting sick from lack of clothing? It’s true. You can’t catch a cold from cold weather. Try it. Roll around in the snow naked. I do it all the time, as far as you know. Sure, you’ll freeze your ass off – possibly lose your ears and fingers – but you won’t catch a cold. This bit of wisdom is hammered home by Geri every time I try to blame a sneeze or bad cough on old man winter. She’s not a doctor, but she tells me she was always good at science back in school..and that's good enough for me. I was good at gym class, which may explain why I excel at fantasy sports. Or not. Let's move on.
Seriously, kids. Colds are caught from germs, not from freezing your ass off. This sounds reasonable enough – and yet we’re always told to wrap up with scarves and mittens and boots so we don’t get sick. All swaddling will do is prevent you from getting cold. To avoid getting sick, you need to avoid PEOPLE! For awhile it was even suspected that colder temperatures may lower the body's natural defenses, rendering the immune system hopelessly incapable of fighting back, thereby making us more vulnerable to catching colds. But this hypothesis has since been proven scientifically invalid. People do tend to catch ill more in the winter months, something doctors suggest may be due to changing weather patterns.
According to research, the absolute best way to catch a cold, if you’re hell bent on catching one, is to shake hands with someone who has sneezed into them. Doesn’t that sound delicious? You can also catch a cold by touching something an infected person has touched, and then inserting the germs into your mouth or nose. I bite my nails, so I am more at risk of catching colds than people who don’t. I also have the curious habit of picking my nose while I’m taking a shit, but that’s a conversation better saved for my therapist.
All you need to know is, if you don’t want to get sick like me, wash your hands, and don’t make out with geese. And don't drink that Avian bottled water crap. Huh? Evian? Same difference.
This bird flu thing is bad news!
I finally contracted Asian Bird Flu. I don’t know how, but I’ve been sick for two days now. Geri tells me it’s just a cold, but I know better. Sore throat, stuffy head, sinus issues, malaise. Yeah, malaise. All the signs are there. Asian bird flu. I’m totally fucked.
I’m guessing it had to be those filthy pigeons staking claim to Geri’s balcony. Or the day I ran to my car without a coat on. But Geri informed me that people don’t get sick from going outside without a coat on.
“This isn’t just sick, Geri. It’s the Asian Bird Flu!”
Okay – so I probably don’t have Asian bird flu – but from news reports I find it hard to believe we’re not all going to have some form of it within a few months. Is the global epidemic simply scare journalism, or something I really need to be concerned about? Last I read, you practically have to French kiss an infected duck to contract it, and yet it’s a recurring news report day after frightening day.
Here comes the Asian bird flu – starts with them, jumps to you!
To be honest, I’ve been more perplexed about this common cold thing we haven’t managed to whip. How can we possibly tackle avian influenza when we can’t even beat the sniffles?
And why are we told to stay warm or we’ll catch a cold…when there’s zero chance of getting sick from lack of clothing? It’s true. You can’t catch a cold from cold weather. Try it. Roll around in the snow naked. I do it all the time, as far as you know. Sure, you’ll freeze your ass off – possibly lose your ears and fingers – but you won’t catch a cold. This bit of wisdom is hammered home by Geri every time I try to blame a sneeze or bad cough on old man winter. She’s not a doctor, but she tells me she was always good at science back in school..and that's good enough for me. I was good at gym class, which may explain why I excel at fantasy sports. Or not. Let's move on.
Seriously, kids. Colds are caught from germs, not from freezing your ass off. This sounds reasonable enough – and yet we’re always told to wrap up with scarves and mittens and boots so we don’t get sick. All swaddling will do is prevent you from getting cold. To avoid getting sick, you need to avoid PEOPLE! For awhile it was even suspected that colder temperatures may lower the body's natural defenses, rendering the immune system hopelessly incapable of fighting back, thereby making us more vulnerable to catching colds. But this hypothesis has since been proven scientifically invalid. People do tend to catch ill more in the winter months, something doctors suggest may be due to changing weather patterns.
According to research, the absolute best way to catch a cold, if you’re hell bent on catching one, is to shake hands with someone who has sneezed into them. Doesn’t that sound delicious? You can also catch a cold by touching something an infected person has touched, and then inserting the germs into your mouth or nose. I bite my nails, so I am more at risk of catching colds than people who don’t. I also have the curious habit of picking my nose while I’m taking a shit, but that’s a conversation better saved for my therapist.
All you need to know is, if you don’t want to get sick like me, wash your hands, and don’t make out with geese. And don't drink that Avian bottled water crap. Huh? Evian? Same difference.
This bird flu thing is bad news!
Friday, March 03, 2006
SYSTEM FAILURE
Every morning I wake up and start all over again. The first things that pop into my head are: Who am I? Where am I? What day is it? What time is it? It’s like I’m a computer booting up, and my system diagnostics take an inventory of my surroundings.
Loading OS ANYtK…
System belongs to: Terry Mertens
System ports: OK
Chicago, Illinois
2006
Today is Friday
***Launching Friday Feel Good Hormone…
It is 7:35 in the morning and sunny
Checking log:
“Good morning, Terry. You have work today. It is the last work day of the week. You need to pay your mortgage today. You have a meeting this morning at 10:00 a.m. - be sure to shave. Your car is parked in the garage. Your girlfriend is generally pleased with you - buy flowers to improve relationship performance. You do not have cash. It is going to be a cold day. Call the following people...”
And then my computer proceeds to fill up my system tray with all of the programs that will be running in the background all day long.
* Appetite Manager…loading
* Waketime temperature Monitor…loading
* Libido Doctor…loaded in sleep state at 5:23 a.m
* Social Awareness 2.0…loading
And then my body gets out of bed and start doing things without my even thinking about it. I make a cup of instant coffee. I turn the shower and television on. I start fishing through the pile of clothes on my bed for something relatively clean.
45 minutes later, the person I recognize as “me” stumbles out into the hallway, locks the door, and trudges with eyes half shut toward the elevator.
Do I really have free will? Or do I just think I do? Am I really behaving consciously, or am I noticing what I’m doing as I’m doing it and interpreting it as choice? I do not feel free. I do not feel like I am making choices. I feel like some invisible hand is typing in commands all day long, commands I execute without much thought. And when my battery life finally starts to fail and my central processing unit chokes and sputters, I am powered down for the night.
Every morning I am booted back up again and set to perform a multitude of functions that surely must serve a purpose higher than my own self-interest. I don’t and can’t know what it is – only that my participation is essential, and trying to figure it out is futile.
System OK.
I have created the following diagnostic report for my user. I think it's time I get some fucking upgrades.
WARNING! - SYSTEM UNSTABLE - RUNNING OUT OF MEMORY - PLEASE TRY OPTIMIZING HARD DRIVE - INSTALL NEW VIRUS PROTECTION SOFTWARE - DOWNLOAD LATEST SECURITY UPDATES - REMOVE ALL UNUSED APPLICATIONS - UPGRADE PROCESSOR SPEED - INSTALL PATCH FOR SOCIAL AWARENESS 2.1 TO IMPROVE PERFORMANCE
Please enter password: __
Loading OS ANYtK…
System belongs to: Terry Mertens
System ports: OK
Chicago, Illinois
2006
Today is Friday
***Launching Friday Feel Good Hormone…
It is 7:35 in the morning and sunny
Checking log:
“Good morning, Terry. You have work today. It is the last work day of the week. You need to pay your mortgage today. You have a meeting this morning at 10:00 a.m. - be sure to shave. Your car is parked in the garage. Your girlfriend is generally pleased with you - buy flowers to improve relationship performance. You do not have cash. It is going to be a cold day. Call the following people...”
And then my computer proceeds to fill up my system tray with all of the programs that will be running in the background all day long.
* Appetite Manager…loading
* Waketime temperature Monitor…loading
* Libido Doctor…loaded in sleep state at 5:23 a.m
* Social Awareness 2.0…loading
And then my body gets out of bed and start doing things without my even thinking about it. I make a cup of instant coffee. I turn the shower and television on. I start fishing through the pile of clothes on my bed for something relatively clean.
45 minutes later, the person I recognize as “me” stumbles out into the hallway, locks the door, and trudges with eyes half shut toward the elevator.
Do I really have free will? Or do I just think I do? Am I really behaving consciously, or am I noticing what I’m doing as I’m doing it and interpreting it as choice? I do not feel free. I do not feel like I am making choices. I feel like some invisible hand is typing in commands all day long, commands I execute without much thought. And when my battery life finally starts to fail and my central processing unit chokes and sputters, I am powered down for the night.
Every morning I am booted back up again and set to perform a multitude of functions that surely must serve a purpose higher than my own self-interest. I don’t and can’t know what it is – only that my participation is essential, and trying to figure it out is futile.
System OK.
I have created the following diagnostic report for my user. I think it's time I get some fucking upgrades.
WARNING! - SYSTEM UNSTABLE - RUNNING OUT OF MEMORY - PLEASE TRY OPTIMIZING HARD DRIVE - INSTALL NEW VIRUS PROTECTION SOFTWARE - DOWNLOAD LATEST SECURITY UPDATES - REMOVE ALL UNUSED APPLICATIONS - UPGRADE PROCESSOR SPEED - INSTALL PATCH FOR SOCIAL AWARENESS 2.1 TO IMPROVE PERFORMANCE
Please enter password: __
Thursday, March 02, 2006
OSAMA BIN HIDIN
Bush announced yesterday that he was “confident” Prince of Terror Osama Bin Laden would be captured.
In separate news, a videotape, also released yesterday, shows Bush saying how confident he was that all necessary emergency resources were in place prior to Hurricane Katrina's devastating landfall.
And then there was Bush's speech prior to the invasion of Iraq during which he expressed confidence that Saddam Hussein was harboring a deadly cache of WMD.
Is anyone else unmoved by Bush's patented stamp of confidence? He seems a little OVER confident if you ask me. Consider his Administration - the team of people hand-picked to assist him in leading the country. Bush has always introduced his qualified appointees with a great deal of confidence, certain they were the best people for the job. And yet consider all of the presumably smart people who've either resigned or been replaced since joining Team Bush. Secretary of State Colin Powell. Treasury Secretary Paul O'Neill. Agriculture Secretary Ann Venneman. Education Secretary Rod Paige. Energy Secretary Spencer Abraham. Commerce Secretary Donald L. Evans. Chief Economic Adviser Stephen Friedman. Homeland Security Director Tom Ridge. Attorney General John Ashcroft. Press Secretary Ari Fleischer. The list is long and storied.
I do not think it would not be a stretch to say that a lot of these people were probably more qualified to do their jobs than Bush is to do his - and, for one reason or another, they all either resigned or were replaced! As Randy Jackson would say, "I'm just not feeling the confidence, dog."
So when Bush says he's "confident" we're going to get Osama, I have to wonder if that's code for: "We're sending Vice President Cheney on a quail hunting trip to Pakistan."
Because, in a manner of speaking, that's probably our best shot.
In separate news, a videotape, also released yesterday, shows Bush saying how confident he was that all necessary emergency resources were in place prior to Hurricane Katrina's devastating landfall.
And then there was Bush's speech prior to the invasion of Iraq during which he expressed confidence that Saddam Hussein was harboring a deadly cache of WMD.
Is anyone else unmoved by Bush's patented stamp of confidence? He seems a little OVER confident if you ask me. Consider his Administration - the team of people hand-picked to assist him in leading the country. Bush has always introduced his qualified appointees with a great deal of confidence, certain they were the best people for the job. And yet consider all of the presumably smart people who've either resigned or been replaced since joining Team Bush. Secretary of State Colin Powell. Treasury Secretary Paul O'Neill. Agriculture Secretary Ann Venneman. Education Secretary Rod Paige. Energy Secretary Spencer Abraham. Commerce Secretary Donald L. Evans. Chief Economic Adviser Stephen Friedman. Homeland Security Director Tom Ridge. Attorney General John Ashcroft. Press Secretary Ari Fleischer. The list is long and storied.
I do not think it would not be a stretch to say that a lot of these people were probably more qualified to do their jobs than Bush is to do his - and, for one reason or another, they all either resigned or were replaced! As Randy Jackson would say, "I'm just not feeling the confidence, dog."
So when Bush says he's "confident" we're going to get Osama, I have to wonder if that's code for: "We're sending Vice President Cheney on a quail hunting trip to Pakistan."
Because, in a manner of speaking, that's probably our best shot.
THE EMPIRE STRIKES BROKEBACK
I’m telling you people, this whole Brokeback thing is on fire right now. It’s cool to be gay! Check out the trailer for an upcoming film about forbidden love in deep space called the romance of the Jedi.
The Cher song kills me every time…
The Cher song kills me every time…
Wednesday, March 01, 2006
BROKEBACK FOUNTAIN
There’s been a lot of pre-Oscar buzz surrounding the smash hit “Brokeback Mountain,” a film about two cowboys, home-o-sexual on the range. Have you seen it? Does your wife know? Did you have a row all to yourself? Just curious. No – not curious like THAT. Let’s move on, okay?
I have NOT seen the movie yet, but I do plan to challenge myself to sit through the DVD when it is released – just to know what all of the fuss is about. (I’m secretly hoping there will be a setting on the DVD that will let me watch the film without having to watch two dudes flame broil each other’s Whopper.)
Homophobic? Me? Please. I just have a homopreference not to watch men kiss. I think gay marriage is a great idea. I think gay parents can raise a child just fine. I even checked out Chicago's Gay Pride Parade last spring. Gay is okay by me. As a male, however, I personally don't care for the sight of males getting it on. It's the same queasiness I get when I watch two ugly people pawing at each other in public. Yeah - you know what I'm talking about.
Anyhow, I can’t help but notice a lot of folks jumping on the whole “Brokeback” bandwagon to capitalize upon the phenomenaughtiness of it all. Here are just a few examples of what I’m talking about…
I read in Rolling Stone that in the works is a remake of an AC/DC classic, a true tribute to the band’s name, called “Brokeback in Black.” The tight-fitting tribute is set to be recorded by the recently renamed alternative rock band Nickelbrokeback.
At Target the other day I saw they were selling a board game called Brokebackgammon – the rules are apparently the same, only the board is painted in festive pastels and rolling the dice is called "hopping on the asswagon.”
I read in the Wall Street Journal that unemployed homosexuals are asking to be called Flat Brokeback.
According to the Sporting News, placing large bets on the San Francisco Giants or San Francisco 49ers is considered “Going for Brokeback.”
In Variety, Arnold Schwarzenegger announced he is making another Terminator film once the Cauliflowernians vote him out of office. His catch phrase in the sequel “Fudgement Day” is reportedly, “I’ll be brokeback.”
On the IRS website there’s a new section for gay marriage filers called “brokeback taxes.”
George Lucas has started filming his Pre-se-pre-pre-se-quel to Star Wars, the hidden story about Luke Skywalker’s infatuation with Han Solo called “The Empire Strikes Brokeback.”
I’m not sure what to think of this trend, but it sure does seem to indicate to me that Brokeback Mountain stands a fairly decent chance to take halter-top honors at Sunday’s Oscar Wilde extravaganza.
I have NOT seen the movie yet, but I do plan to challenge myself to sit through the DVD when it is released – just to know what all of the fuss is about. (I’m secretly hoping there will be a setting on the DVD that will let me watch the film without having to watch two dudes flame broil each other’s Whopper.)Homophobic? Me? Please. I just have a homopreference not to watch men kiss. I think gay marriage is a great idea. I think gay parents can raise a child just fine. I even checked out Chicago's Gay Pride Parade last spring. Gay is okay by me. As a male, however, I personally don't care for the sight of males getting it on. It's the same queasiness I get when I watch two ugly people pawing at each other in public. Yeah - you know what I'm talking about.
Anyhow, I can’t help but notice a lot of folks jumping on the whole “Brokeback” bandwagon to capitalize upon the phenomenaughtiness of it all. Here are just a few examples of what I’m talking about…
I read in Rolling Stone that in the works is a remake of an AC/DC classic, a true tribute to the band’s name, called “Brokeback in Black.” The tight-fitting tribute is set to be recorded by the recently renamed alternative rock band Nickelbrokeback.
At Target the other day I saw they were selling a board game called Brokebackgammon – the rules are apparently the same, only the board is painted in festive pastels and rolling the dice is called "hopping on the asswagon.”
I read in the Wall Street Journal that unemployed homosexuals are asking to be called Flat Brokeback.
According to the Sporting News, placing large bets on the San Francisco Giants or San Francisco 49ers is considered “Going for Brokeback.”
In Variety, Arnold Schwarzenegger announced he is making another Terminator film once the Cauliflowernians vote him out of office. His catch phrase in the sequel “Fudgement Day” is reportedly, “I’ll be brokeback.”
On the IRS website there’s a new section for gay marriage filers called “brokeback taxes.”
George Lucas has started filming his Pre-se-pre-pre-se-quel to Star Wars, the hidden story about Luke Skywalker’s infatuation with Han Solo called “The Empire Strikes Brokeback.”
I’m not sure what to think of this trend, but it sure does seem to indicate to me that Brokeback Mountain stands a fairly decent chance to take halter-top honors at Sunday’s Oscar Wilde extravaganza.
HAMMER TIME
When it comes to crimes of passion, you can't touch this.
Last month, two Florida men got into a rather heated discussion about toilet paper...and it didn’t end well for either one of them.
According to the police report, 56-year-old Franklin Paul Crow of Moss Bluff, Florida was sick and tired of his roommate Kenneth Matthews, 58, of always using up the last of the toilet paper without replacing it. Enough was enough! Or, I suppose it would be more correct in this case to say NOT enough was enough!
An argument over the availability of clean asswipes ensued, during which Kenny decided to up the ante by pulling out a rifle and pointing it at his beloved Bunkie – a move that, in hindsight, might be considered his “last mistake.”
Whether Kenny intended to shoot Franklin over toilet tissue will forever remain unknown, as Franklin did not wait for Kenny to pull the trigger. Finding himself in the crosshairs, Franklin grabbed a pair of hammers (a sledgehammer and a claw hammer) and began beating Kenny with them. In the face. As you might imagine, Kenny's ass was wiped out. Police on the scene had to use fingerprints to identify him afterward.
As for Franklin’s ass, it will likely play host to a parade of unwelcome guests in the months and years ahead as Franklin has been charged with, and confessed to, homicide. A new bunkie eagerly awaits at the state pen.
If you're looking for a moral in this story, there are many:
Don't keep shit all bottled up until you explode - things could get messy.
This is what happens when there's an ass in charge.
Don't leave hammers in the living room.
Don't threaten to shoot someone unless you have the balls to actually do it.
There's a good reason grown men in their 50's don't live together.
Something that starts out a little pain in the ass can wind up killing you.
It's important to work out your little issues before they become big ones.
People will go to great lengths to protect their ass.
Guns kill people, but hammers kill people with guns.
Last month, two Florida men got into a rather heated discussion about toilet paper...and it didn’t end well for either one of them.
According to the police report, 56-year-old Franklin Paul Crow of Moss Bluff, Florida was sick and tired of his roommate Kenneth Matthews, 58, of always using up the last of the toilet paper without replacing it. Enough was enough! Or, I suppose it would be more correct in this case to say NOT enough was enough!
An argument over the availability of clean asswipes ensued, during which Kenny decided to up the ante by pulling out a rifle and pointing it at his beloved Bunkie – a move that, in hindsight, might be considered his “last mistake.”
Whether Kenny intended to shoot Franklin over toilet tissue will forever remain unknown, as Franklin did not wait for Kenny to pull the trigger. Finding himself in the crosshairs, Franklin grabbed a pair of hammers (a sledgehammer and a claw hammer) and began beating Kenny with them. In the face. As you might imagine, Kenny's ass was wiped out. Police on the scene had to use fingerprints to identify him afterward.
As for Franklin’s ass, it will likely play host to a parade of unwelcome guests in the months and years ahead as Franklin has been charged with, and confessed to, homicide. A new bunkie eagerly awaits at the state pen.
If you're looking for a moral in this story, there are many:
Don't keep shit all bottled up until you explode - things could get messy.
This is what happens when there's an ass in charge.
Don't leave hammers in the living room.
Don't threaten to shoot someone unless you have the balls to actually do it.
There's a good reason grown men in their 50's don't live together.
Something that starts out a little pain in the ass can wind up killing you.
It's important to work out your little issues before they become big ones.
People will go to great lengths to protect their ass.
Guns kill people, but hammers kill people with guns.
Tuesday, February 28, 2006
IRONIQ
Iraq is on the verge of all out civil war following last week's bombings of scores of Sunni mosques. Counter bombings are underway as we speak. These acts are being carried out by extremists who, instead of celebrating freedom from a ruthless dictator, seek to gain control through the elimination of their rivals. It's a deadly turf war that's made keeping the peace painstakingly more difficult for U.S. forces. So what's all this fighting about? Why can't they all hold hands and sing songs in the street together?
When a team of blind British invalids drew up maps of the region following World War I, they paid little attention to the cultural differences of the people who called the land home. It’s the same story in Africa, and Israel, and pretty much anywhere else in the world the British had a mandate to play bordermaker. To be fair, they had plenty of help destroying the region, primarily from the French. The two allies agreed to a double super ultra mega mega secret understanding in 1916 regarding their respective spheres of post-war influence. This understanding, called the Sykes-Picot Agreement, laid the foundation for the creation of the modern State of Iraq, which was later drawn up with, understandably, the political interests of the European powers in mind – and, unfortunately, virtually zero consideration for the PEOPLE living in the region they were roping off.
The consequences of these myopic modifcations to the world map weren't as significant back then for a lot of reasons. Nations of the West hadn't yet begun their deadly affair with oil-bearing Sheiks. Weapons weren't nearly as prolific. Communication and transportation weren't at all what they are today. The world was a completely different place. So the folks deciding how to carve the pie couldn't have imagined it would end up like this. They just wanted to get it done in time for tea.
Fastforward about 90 years. (Can you believe it's almost been a century since WWI?)
In the Iraq we have come to know and love (and pay for) so well, a variety of warring cultures had been kept peaceful by a menacing dictator by the name of Saddam Hussein. He was what you might call the common enemy who kept the citizens united. They hated him because he was a no-nonsense murderer who didn’t find discriminating a particularly effective use of time. People he didn't care for were tortured and killed. Sure, like most people, he disliked some people more than others – but at the end of the day he was an equal opportunity tyrant.
Say what you want about Saddam’s lack of humanitarian zeal, civil war wasn’t an issue when he was in charge. Homicide in the 1990’s, a period more and more Iraqi citizens are referring to as “the good old days,” was state-sponsored. The oppression was awful, but well defined and predictable.
Today, the Iraqi people still have a common enemy in, tragically, their great “liberator,” the United States military. In the power vacuum created by the deposing of Saddam Hussein, countless interests have stepped forward to influence the country’s future. Few (if any) of these interests share the Bush Administration’s vision of what Iraq should look like. They are deeply religious, passionately partisan groups and they fear the new U.S.-endorsed government isn’t going to give them a fair shake. So they march and protest, bomb, kidnap and assassinate.
If we offer Saddam a raise, do you think he’ll take his old job back? He may have been a bad man, but he was a good sheriff in a town that desperately needed order.
While I’m making ludicrous suggestions, here’s another one: Why not, finally, redraw the map of Iraq to account for the people living there. Give the Sunni folk a place to chill, the Shiites a hood of their own, and designate a central area around Baghdad the county seat where CNN reporters can go when they want to give their career a boost by taking a dangerous assignment.
I’ve got plenty more mind-blowingly cool ideas where these came from. Why don’t we let Ken Lay and Jeff Skilling run Iraq. They did such a great job making that money-pit Enron look profitable, let’s hand over the reins to Iraq and see what they can do. They owe a lot of Americans a lot of years of community service – sentencing them to prison would be such a waste of their god-given talent for bullshit. Shouldn't their punishment fit the crime? They made a fortune in the energy business – let’s give those geniuses control over some of the world’s largest oil reserves so they can start paying America back. Or at least make them drive important people around.
Wouldn’t that be ironiq?
When a team of blind British invalids drew up maps of the region following World War I, they paid little attention to the cultural differences of the people who called the land home. It’s the same story in Africa, and Israel, and pretty much anywhere else in the world the British had a mandate to play bordermaker. To be fair, they had plenty of help destroying the region, primarily from the French. The two allies agreed to a double super ultra mega mega secret understanding in 1916 regarding their respective spheres of post-war influence. This understanding, called the Sykes-Picot Agreement, laid the foundation for the creation of the modern State of Iraq, which was later drawn up with, understandably, the political interests of the European powers in mind – and, unfortunately, virtually zero consideration for the PEOPLE living in the region they were roping off.
The consequences of these myopic modifcations to the world map weren't as significant back then for a lot of reasons. Nations of the West hadn't yet begun their deadly affair with oil-bearing Sheiks. Weapons weren't nearly as prolific. Communication and transportation weren't at all what they are today. The world was a completely different place. So the folks deciding how to carve the pie couldn't have imagined it would end up like this. They just wanted to get it done in time for tea.
Fastforward about 90 years. (Can you believe it's almost been a century since WWI?)
In the Iraq we have come to know and love (and pay for) so well, a variety of warring cultures had been kept peaceful by a menacing dictator by the name of Saddam Hussein. He was what you might call the common enemy who kept the citizens united. They hated him because he was a no-nonsense murderer who didn’t find discriminating a particularly effective use of time. People he didn't care for were tortured and killed. Sure, like most people, he disliked some people more than others – but at the end of the day he was an equal opportunity tyrant.
Say what you want about Saddam’s lack of humanitarian zeal, civil war wasn’t an issue when he was in charge. Homicide in the 1990’s, a period more and more Iraqi citizens are referring to as “the good old days,” was state-sponsored. The oppression was awful, but well defined and predictable.
Today, the Iraqi people still have a common enemy in, tragically, their great “liberator,” the United States military. In the power vacuum created by the deposing of Saddam Hussein, countless interests have stepped forward to influence the country’s future. Few (if any) of these interests share the Bush Administration’s vision of what Iraq should look like. They are deeply religious, passionately partisan groups and they fear the new U.S.-endorsed government isn’t going to give them a fair shake. So they march and protest, bomb, kidnap and assassinate.
If we offer Saddam a raise, do you think he’ll take his old job back? He may have been a bad man, but he was a good sheriff in a town that desperately needed order.
While I’m making ludicrous suggestions, here’s another one: Why not, finally, redraw the map of Iraq to account for the people living there. Give the Sunni folk a place to chill, the Shiites a hood of their own, and designate a central area around Baghdad the county seat where CNN reporters can go when they want to give their career a boost by taking a dangerous assignment.
I’ve got plenty more mind-blowingly cool ideas where these came from. Why don’t we let Ken Lay and Jeff Skilling run Iraq. They did such a great job making that money-pit Enron look profitable, let’s hand over the reins to Iraq and see what they can do. They owe a lot of Americans a lot of years of community service – sentencing them to prison would be such a waste of their god-given talent for bullshit. Shouldn't their punishment fit the crime? They made a fortune in the energy business – let’s give those geniuses control over some of the world’s largest oil reserves so they can start paying America back. Or at least make them drive important people around.
Wouldn’t that be ironiq?
RIDING THE PORCELAIN BRONCO
Being well-adjusted means you’re never more than a crap away from true happiness.
I love taking craps. I’m sure Freud would have something to say about that – but who the hell was he anyway? Why are his opinions on shit like that any more important than mine? You’re right – they’re not. Sometimes when I’m in a foul mood, all it takes is one long, satisfying bowel movement and I’m back on top of the world. Dumping is happiness. The irrefutable proof for me is in the ass pudding.
Craps are delicate moments meant to be enjoyed. That's why we call their arenas "restrooms." Rest. Take it easy. Relax. Enjoy.
And not all restrooms are created equally. Some are better equipped to handle your shit than others. Take this link, for example, sent to me by Dr. Gluteus Faber. Have a gander to discover the best crapper in America .
I love taking craps. I’m sure Freud would have something to say about that – but who the hell was he anyway? Why are his opinions on shit like that any more important than mine? You’re right – they’re not. Sometimes when I’m in a foul mood, all it takes is one long, satisfying bowel movement and I’m back on top of the world. Dumping is happiness. The irrefutable proof for me is in the ass pudding.
Craps are delicate moments meant to be enjoyed. That's why we call their arenas "restrooms." Rest. Take it easy. Relax. Enjoy.
And not all restrooms are created equally. Some are better equipped to handle your shit than others. Take this link, for example, sent to me by Dr. Gluteus Faber. Have a gander to discover the best crapper in America .
Friday, February 24, 2006
TICKETMASTERBATION
I’ve been trying to get Chicago Cubs tickets all morning, sitting in their virtual waiting room online and having zero luck. Today is basically a Cubs fan’s only opportunity to pay face value to see games of interest, as ticket brokers unscrupulously buy them all up the day tickets go on sale and then sell them back to the public at prices no less than twice the face value. They call it a convenience to purchase tickets through their service, but it’s really a money-making scam that’s been fleecing baseball fans out of their hard-earned money for years. Instead of doing something to prevent it, the Cubs organization has essentially JOINED in by sponsoring its own ticket brokerage where they scalp tickets under the guise of “service,” and cite "fair market value" for the egregious prices they charge. It’s rifuckingdiculous.
I thought I had the system beat when I called the Ticketmaster location in Saskatoon, Saskatchewan this morning – but was told they were unable to sell tickets for events in the U.S. And Ticketmaster locations outside of the Chicago area don’t have access to the games yet, so I had no luck there. The only real shot I’ve got is to continue monitoring all these virtual waiting rooms I’ve got on all the computers here at work and hope for the best – although now there’s a list of sold-out games that I can no longer get tickets for. They are games number 1,2,3, and 4 on my list of desired games. Go figure. They’re the same games EVERYBODY wants to go to, which is why the ticket brokers snap them all up first. Big money there. This whole scam is a loophole in the scalping law and it’s just plain wrong. But on the list of things to fix in this town, politicians don’t rank consumer corruption very high. They're more concerned with making sure cigarettes, which are legal to buy, are illegal to smoke in as many places as they can think of and enforce. Another tax hike well spent.
The message on this virtual waiting room, which refreshes every 30 seconds to remind me I should be patient, may as well read:
“Welcome to Cubs.com – we are actually laughing at your futile attempt to purchase tickets at face value. But try if you must. When you finally give up, here are some links to a number of local ticket brokers where tomorrow you’ll find tickets to pretty much any Cubs game you want…at a premium, of course. Not fair? Life’s not fair, bud. Figured an ugly asshole like you would be used to disappointment by now. Happy hunting, sucker!”
Looks like these two are going to be seeing the Cubs before I do!
I thought I had the system beat when I called the Ticketmaster location in Saskatoon, Saskatchewan this morning – but was told they were unable to sell tickets for events in the U.S. And Ticketmaster locations outside of the Chicago area don’t have access to the games yet, so I had no luck there. The only real shot I’ve got is to continue monitoring all these virtual waiting rooms I’ve got on all the computers here at work and hope for the best – although now there’s a list of sold-out games that I can no longer get tickets for. They are games number 1,2,3, and 4 on my list of desired games. Go figure. They’re the same games EVERYBODY wants to go to, which is why the ticket brokers snap them all up first. Big money there. This whole scam is a loophole in the scalping law and it’s just plain wrong. But on the list of things to fix in this town, politicians don’t rank consumer corruption very high. They're more concerned with making sure cigarettes, which are legal to buy, are illegal to smoke in as many places as they can think of and enforce. Another tax hike well spent.
The message on this virtual waiting room, which refreshes every 30 seconds to remind me I should be patient, may as well read:
“Welcome to Cubs.com – we are actually laughing at your futile attempt to purchase tickets at face value. But try if you must. When you finally give up, here are some links to a number of local ticket brokers where tomorrow you’ll find tickets to pretty much any Cubs game you want…at a premium, of course. Not fair? Life’s not fair, bud. Figured an ugly asshole like you would be used to disappointment by now. Happy hunting, sucker!”
Looks like these two are going to be seeing the Cubs before I do!
Thursday, February 23, 2006
A CULTURE OF WAR
Hate can be learned, and there's a whole lot of people teaching it these days. Where we bundle up our cherished little ones in colorful ski jackets for an afternoon romp in the snow, little tykes elsewhere are outfitted in army fatigues and handed toy guns before an afternoon protest. This is the way of the world in some countries. This is everyday life. And in the nuclear age, this culturally militaristic frame of mind has fast become a global crisis.
A handful of cartoon drawings has sparked widespread global unrest. The bombing of scores of religious mosques has brought Iraq to the brink of civil war. Iran plans to move forward with its nuclear ambitions, in spite of international protest. Islamic militants have been elected to represent the Palestinian constituency in Israel. Abductions continue. Roadside bombs claim more and more lives every day. Vague warnings and terrorist threats continue to trickle in from abroad. Middle Eastern governments are beginning to buckle as anti-West sentiment mounts. It would appear, to a casual observer who's just tuned into world affairs, that the stage is being set for a massive global showdown, a religious and ideological battle without boundaries, and without rules.
The destruction of the World Trade Center in 2001 demonstrated a willingness and ability on the part of radical Islamists extremists to kill without conscience. This single act of terror was met with a swift military reponse - the invasion and takeover of the entire nation of Afghanistan. In the fear that followed, this hostile takeover was followed by the subsequent invasion of Iraq over the mere suspicion there existed a cache of potentially catastrophic weapons. What will be the West's response when a nuclear device is detonated in Tel Aviv...or a dirty bomb exploded in Times Square? Are these horrifying examples simply irrational fears, or simply a matter of time?
The pictures don't lie - there are tens upon tens of thousands of people protesting around the globe - furious and willing to die fighting for a cause they were assigned at birth.
Is lasting peace even possible at this point? Is a future of war inevitable? I am about as afraid of the future as I am optimistic for it...which isn't saying a whole lot in either case. Whatever happens will be. I'm just glad I'm on the side with TiVo. At least for now.
Wednesday, February 22, 2006
CONTROL FREAKSHOW
A lot of people are control freaks. We can’t help it. The mind requires order and the best way to make sense of an evolving, changing world is to control as many variables as you can. Or at least to trick the mind into thinking it is in control when, clearly, we’re all at nature’s mercy.
Shit happens all the time – unexpected and out of the blue – that changes everything forever. So to promote the status quo, or at least achieve some semblance of normalcy, we manipulate the variables in our lives in an attempt to control life’s outcome, as it pertains to us. Do some of us go too far? You bet. Think Hitler.
Or, consider the case of Travis Frey.
Travis is the sick fuck who’s been brought up on charges of kidnapping his wife. According to court documents, Travis drafted a 4-page “Contract of Wifely Expectations” that he ordered his wife abide by – even though she never signed it. The details of the contract are too unbelievable to mention – you really must read them for yourself at the Smoking Gun. They have images posted of the scanned contract for your review. This dude is one fucked up cat. Sincerely.
I don't know whether life unfolds as a function of chaos or whether we simply can't perceive its immaculate order, but either way, I do enjoy the taste of a cheesy quesadilla.
Shit happens all the time – unexpected and out of the blue – that changes everything forever. So to promote the status quo, or at least achieve some semblance of normalcy, we manipulate the variables in our lives in an attempt to control life’s outcome, as it pertains to us. Do some of us go too far? You bet. Think Hitler.
Or, consider the case of Travis Frey.
Travis is the sick fuck who’s been brought up on charges of kidnapping his wife. According to court documents, Travis drafted a 4-page “Contract of Wifely Expectations” that he ordered his wife abide by – even though she never signed it. The details of the contract are too unbelievable to mention – you really must read them for yourself at the Smoking Gun. They have images posted of the scanned contract for your review. This dude is one fucked up cat. Sincerely.
I don't know whether life unfolds as a function of chaos or whether we simply can't perceive its immaculate order, but either way, I do enjoy the taste of a cheesy quesadilla.
Friday, February 17, 2006
THE WHITEHOUSE EFFECT
Bad news, friends. According to satellite imagery, the Greenland Ice cap is melting far faster than anyone had predicted it would. Twice as much ice is dropping into the ocean today as just five years ago. It’s a dramatic trend environmental scientists fear could have major impact on the world climate. And do you know what’s REALLY scary? The folks in Washington don’t want you to know about it.
The Bush Administration originally dismissed the concerns as “fuzzy science,” but has since announced the development of a “roadmap” to environmental wellness called “No ice left behind.” The 600-page proposal, which has not been made public yet, is said to be littered with practical, if less-than-helpful, suggestions on how to deal with the global warming, like moving away from the beach. The ambitious initiative also includes a plan to counter rising temperatures by enforcing a one-week period every year during which every home and business in the world with air conditioning must jam their unit on high with their doors and windows open. According to a section of the report released to the media on Friday, “The collective effort of all those cooling systems blasting at once should be sufficient to reverse the trends we’ve been seeing. And if we need to run a few fans, too, that can’t hurt either.”
All joking aside, the Bush Administration actually tried to prevent a NASA scientist from making these reports public. Jim Hansen is the director of the NASA Goddard Institute for Space Studies in New York, and President George Bush's top climate modeler. When he approached the administration with this news, they more or less told him to put a sock in it. Here’s a quick link to the article for your reference.
On the other side of the spectrum, hard core environmentalists are now predicting all of humanity will be under water within the next 72 hours. RUH-ROH!
The truth, as always, is neither here nor there.
Thursday, February 16, 2006
YOU LOVE ME
You love me not.
You love me.
You love me not.
You love me.
You love me not.
You love me.
You love me not.
You love me not?
What?
No. I don't think so. Don't lie.
You know you love me.
You love me.
You love me not.
You love me.
You love me not.
You love me.
You love me not.
You love me not?
What?
No. I don't think so. Don't lie.
You know you love me.
ASS TRAFFIC
I work at a small marketing firm, and our office is located on the top floor of a renovated loft building in Chicago’s West Loop Warehouse District. Our office bathroom, for your reference, is situated just outside our main office in a common hallway. While the hallway is common, our agency bathroom is not. Or, at least it’s not supposed to be.
All week we’ve been noticing an awful lot of traffic out in that hallway and yesterday morning our worst fears were realized. It turns out folks from the office next door have been john-hopping – descending upon our throne whenever theirs is occupied!
Late yesterday, one of the partners here decided to casually bring it up to it up to one of the partners next door, who was quick to apologize for the extra business they’ve been sending our way. According to our neighbor, their architecture firm has been on a hiring spree of late and, with only one bathroom in their office, there’s been a lot of crapper traffic. Because we possess the only other commode of transpooptation on the floor, we’ve been catching their daily overflow. To make matters worse, the increase in activity has been occurring at particularly busy times, between 9-10:30am (after morning coffee), then again between 1-2:30pm (after lunch). In the business world, these time slots are also known as Flush Hour.
Since it is OUR private bathroom, and stocked with OUR private supplies, we politely asked if they would be able to keep their bathroom activities to their own bathroom. They apologized and agreed to stink to their own side. As I am sure you have already guessed by now, it was not long before they reneged.
This morning, after taking a visual audit of office occupants, I scampered off to use the restroom – confident it was vacant. But it was not! I tried the handle twice to be sure and it was locked. I was not pleased. To let the occupant know how surprised I was to find it locked, I rammed my shoulder into the door forcefully as if to bust it open. The offending occupant uttered meekly, “Just a mo-ment!” The tone in his voice assured me I had scared the shit out of him…literally perhaps.
I immediately retreated to my desk, bursting at the seams in more ways than one. My first instinct was to walk into the office next door, drop my pants, and dangle a hearty russet coil all over their nicely-buffed wooden floor. But that’s always my first instinct when surrounded by architects. My second instinct was to urinate in a plastic cup and – honestly, it’s really not important. The important thing is what I actually did, which was my 6th instinct.
I lifted a sheet of blank white paper from the printer tray and uncapped a Sharpie. The marker squeaked loudly as I scrawled a note in large CAPITAL LETTERS:
ENOUGH ASSHOLES USE THIS BATHROOM ALREADY – WE DON’T NEED YOU IN HERE, TOO.
I marched back out into the hallway and slid it under the bathroom door.
I’m hoping the unwelcome crapper got the message. If not, I am going to have to resort to plan B.
Plan B: The door handle has one of those small holes in the center, so to unlock it, all one needs is a toothpick or a needle. If our john gets raided again tomorrow, I am going to pick the lock, swing the door open, snap a photo, and disappear into the stairwell. I will then wallpaper the neighborhood with fliers featuring that photo:
“WANTED: Suspect known only as the “Turd Burglar” has been reported breaking into the bathrooms of area businesses to steal unflushed excrement. The suspect should be considered armed and pungent. Please avoid direct contact and always keep a clean bowl."
All week we’ve been noticing an awful lot of traffic out in that hallway and yesterday morning our worst fears were realized. It turns out folks from the office next door have been john-hopping – descending upon our throne whenever theirs is occupied!
Late yesterday, one of the partners here decided to casually bring it up to it up to one of the partners next door, who was quick to apologize for the extra business they’ve been sending our way. According to our neighbor, their architecture firm has been on a hiring spree of late and, with only one bathroom in their office, there’s been a lot of crapper traffic. Because we possess the only other commode of transpooptation on the floor, we’ve been catching their daily overflow. To make matters worse, the increase in activity has been occurring at particularly busy times, between 9-10:30am (after morning coffee), then again between 1-2:30pm (after lunch). In the business world, these time slots are also known as Flush Hour.
Since it is OUR private bathroom, and stocked with OUR private supplies, we politely asked if they would be able to keep their bathroom activities to their own bathroom. They apologized and agreed to stink to their own side. As I am sure you have already guessed by now, it was not long before they reneged.
This morning, after taking a visual audit of office occupants, I scampered off to use the restroom – confident it was vacant. But it was not! I tried the handle twice to be sure and it was locked. I was not pleased. To let the occupant know how surprised I was to find it locked, I rammed my shoulder into the door forcefully as if to bust it open. The offending occupant uttered meekly, “Just a mo-ment!” The tone in his voice assured me I had scared the shit out of him…literally perhaps.
I immediately retreated to my desk, bursting at the seams in more ways than one. My first instinct was to walk into the office next door, drop my pants, and dangle a hearty russet coil all over their nicely-buffed wooden floor. But that’s always my first instinct when surrounded by architects. My second instinct was to urinate in a plastic cup and – honestly, it’s really not important. The important thing is what I actually did, which was my 6th instinct.
I lifted a sheet of blank white paper from the printer tray and uncapped a Sharpie. The marker squeaked loudly as I scrawled a note in large CAPITAL LETTERS:
ENOUGH ASSHOLES USE THIS BATHROOM ALREADY – WE DON’T NEED YOU IN HERE, TOO.
I marched back out into the hallway and slid it under the bathroom door.
I’m hoping the unwelcome crapper got the message. If not, I am going to have to resort to plan B.
Plan B: The door handle has one of those small holes in the center, so to unlock it, all one needs is a toothpick or a needle. If our john gets raided again tomorrow, I am going to pick the lock, swing the door open, snap a photo, and disappear into the stairwell. I will then wallpaper the neighborhood with fliers featuring that photo:
“WANTED: Suspect known only as the “Turd Burglar” has been reported breaking into the bathrooms of area businesses to steal unflushed excrement. The suspect should be considered armed and pungent. Please avoid direct contact and always keep a clean bowl."
Wednesday, February 15, 2006
VICE PRESIDENTS OF MASS DESTRUCTION
Vice President Dick Cheney inadvertently made a case for stronger gun control this week when he “accidentally” shot a hunting buddy firing at a rising covey of quail. The victim was an acquaintance and contributor who thought Cheney meant something entirely different when he said the Republican Party needed a “shot in the arm” prior to upcoming mid-term elections. Initially outraged, most Americans were quick to forgive the Vice President upon learning that the man he shot was a lawyer.
The news got a little worse for Cheney when it was later reported the victim had suffered a minor heart attack thanks to some birdshot that had penetrated his internal organs. THEN today it was revealed that Dick had sucked down a beer at lunch that fateful afternoon. Tomorrow I'm expecting they will announce that Cheney has been legally blind for over a decade.
President Bush has remained out of the spotlight over the course of this drama, but unconditional support for the Veep has been implicit in his Foreign Policy philosophy: Shoot first and ask questions later.
Some have expressed concern over Cheney's admission to drinking a single beer at lunch, as everyone knows that one beer means at least three. Ask any state patrol officer who's ever pulled over a DUI suspect. They've got a cheat sheet for assessing true consumption levels based on admission:
If they admit to..........Then they likely had...
1 beer........................3-4 beers
2 beers......................5-8 beers
A few beers................No fewer than 9 beers
4 or 5 beers...............12 beers and several shots
6+ beers....................A controlled substance of some kind
According to administrators at the event, a small situation developed after the hunt when, on the way back to the parking lot, Dick asked, "Who wants shotgun?" and everyone within earshot scrambled for cover.
Want to try your hand at a little quail hunting Dick Cheney style? Click here. Be sure to check out the featured article after you take your best shot – it's a fucking scream.
A White House Story: "I want an Official Red Ryder Carbine-Action Two-Hundred-Shot Range Model Air Rifle!"
Don't be silly, Dick. You'll shoot a contributor's eye out!
*******************************************
Get yours today! Hot off the presses...a bright orange “Duck! Cheney” T-shirt.
You know you want one.
The news got a little worse for Cheney when it was later reported the victim had suffered a minor heart attack thanks to some birdshot that had penetrated his internal organs. THEN today it was revealed that Dick had sucked down a beer at lunch that fateful afternoon. Tomorrow I'm expecting they will announce that Cheney has been legally blind for over a decade.
President Bush has remained out of the spotlight over the course of this drama, but unconditional support for the Veep has been implicit in his Foreign Policy philosophy: Shoot first and ask questions later.Some have expressed concern over Cheney's admission to drinking a single beer at lunch, as everyone knows that one beer means at least three. Ask any state patrol officer who's ever pulled over a DUI suspect. They've got a cheat sheet for assessing true consumption levels based on admission:
If they admit to..........Then they likely had...
1 beer........................3-4 beers
2 beers......................5-8 beers
A few beers................No fewer than 9 beers
4 or 5 beers...............12 beers and several shots
6+ beers....................A controlled substance of some kind
According to administrators at the event, a small situation developed after the hunt when, on the way back to the parking lot, Dick asked, "Who wants shotgun?" and everyone within earshot scrambled for cover.
Want to try your hand at a little quail hunting Dick Cheney style? Click here. Be sure to check out the featured article after you take your best shot – it's a fucking scream.
A White House Story: "I want an Official Red Ryder Carbine-Action Two-Hundred-Shot Range Model Air Rifle!" Don't be silly, Dick. You'll shoot a contributor's eye out!
*******************************************
Get yours today! Hot off the presses...a bright orange “Duck! Cheney” T-shirt.
You know you want one.
BROKEBACK TO THE FUTURE
McFly is open! Check out this nicely crafted trailer for the upcoming movie starring Michael J. Fox and Christopher Lloyd called Brokeback to the Future.
What’s up, doc?
What’s up, doc?
Tuesday, February 14, 2006
OINK AND CLICK
I never knew how much a simple drawing of a pig could reveal about my personality! According to this Draw a Pig Personality Test, I’ve got a great sex life. Sweet! Of course, I didn’t need to draw a pig on a computer to know that. The alarming rate at which I lose underwear is testimony enough. But enough about makin’ bacon – go draw a pig and find out what it says about you!
Besides, naturally, the fact that you have too much time on your hands.
Besides, naturally, the fact that you have too much time on your hands.
Monday, February 13, 2006
TRAFFIC JAM
Stacy Keibler naked. Stacy Keebler naked. Stacy Kiebler naked. Stacey Keebler naked. Stacey Keibler naked. Stacey Keebler naked. Stacy Kebler naked. Stacy Keibler pics. Stacy Keebler pics. Stacy Kiebler pics. Stacey Keebler pics. Stacey Keibler pics. Evangeline Lilly nude. Evangeline Lily nude. Evangeline Lilly naked. Evangeline Lily naked. Evangeline Lilly pics. Evangeline Lily pics. Stacey Keebler pics. Stacy Kebler pics. Stacy Keibler nude. Stacy Keebler nude. Stacy Kiebler nude. Stacey Keebler nude. Stacey Keibler nude. Stacey Keebler nude. Stacy Kebler nude.
Don’t mind me – just an experiment to see if this drums up a few more web hits.
From what I understand about Search Engine Optimization, people searching for naked celebrities will be directed to visit AYNtK. They might consider it misleading of me to advertise naked pics of celebrities in this way, but I call it fate.
If you are reading this post because you came here looking for naked pictures of celebrities, don’t be discouraged. You were meant to find AYNtK. I am fate’s monkey, and I type what you are thinking. I am here to tell you that looking at photographs of naked women is not what you need to be doing right now. You need to be getting back to work – you ARE the President of the United States, after all. I would have expected this search string out of Bill, but not YOU!
Don’t mind me – just an experiment to see if this drums up a few more web hits.
From what I understand about Search Engine Optimization, people searching for naked celebrities will be directed to visit AYNtK. They might consider it misleading of me to advertise naked pics of celebrities in this way, but I call it fate.
If you are reading this post because you came here looking for naked pictures of celebrities, don’t be discouraged. You were meant to find AYNtK. I am fate’s monkey, and I type what you are thinking. I am here to tell you that looking at photographs of naked women is not what you need to be doing right now. You need to be getting back to work – you ARE the President of the United States, after all. I would have expected this search string out of Bill, but not YOU!
DECORATIVE TOPOGRAPHY
Some close friends of ours just had a beautiful baby girl, so Geri and I drove out to meet their newest edition over the weekend. During the drive out, Geri’s 5-year-old (the H-man) initiated a very interesting discussion on breasts. In the question-and-answer session that followed, Geri carefully explained to the H-man that girls have boobs so they can feed their babies. The H-man was noticeably perplexed upon learning this interesting factoid, so Geri asked him, “Why did you THINK girls have boobs?”
“I don’t know,” he wondered aloud, “For decoration?” It is clear that the H-man is wise beyond his years.
“Well…” I chimed in with a laugh, “That’s not entirely untrue.” Geri could not disagree as we both admired his profound insight. Hard to fight the logic of a 5-year-old when there’s an entire cosmetic enhancement market thriving on the concept of decorative topography.
Given his new understanding of the biological purpose for breasts, the H-Man went on to make several brilliant observations, including: “So girls with big boobs don’t have babies, because if they did then they wouldn’t have the big boobs. They need babies,” he said, sure of himself. Or attention, we mumbled to each other. And then, of course, came the question that was sure to follow.
"Why do boys have boobs?"
Walking him through the mysteries of gender differentiation from Asexuality to Zygote would not have been a good use of time, so we defaulted to your standard blow-off-the-child-with-too-many-questions-phrase and offered only: "I don't know, dude. That's a good question."
In related news, a team of researchers studying the possible causes of homosexuality have identified one of the first signs a male child might be gay, illustrated in this photograph (removed). Results of the study are not expected to be final for another 14-18 years.
“I don’t know,” he wondered aloud, “For decoration?” It is clear that the H-man is wise beyond his years.
“Well…” I chimed in with a laugh, “That’s not entirely untrue.” Geri could not disagree as we both admired his profound insight. Hard to fight the logic of a 5-year-old when there’s an entire cosmetic enhancement market thriving on the concept of decorative topography.
Given his new understanding of the biological purpose for breasts, the H-Man went on to make several brilliant observations, including: “So girls with big boobs don’t have babies, because if they did then they wouldn’t have the big boobs. They need babies,” he said, sure of himself. Or attention, we mumbled to each other. And then, of course, came the question that was sure to follow.
"Why do boys have boobs?"
Walking him through the mysteries of gender differentiation from Asexuality to Zygote would not have been a good use of time, so we defaulted to your standard blow-off-the-child-with-too-many-questions-phrase and offered only: "I don't know, dude. That's a good question."
In related news, a team of researchers studying the possible causes of homosexuality have identified one of the first signs a male child might be gay, illustrated in this photograph (removed). Results of the study are not expected to be final for another 14-18 years.
Friday, February 10, 2006
WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?
I'm not going to stop pestering you until you push a pin in my Guestmap, dammit. Do it now!
(Unless you already have, in which case you can expect the winds of change to carry good fortune your way.)
(Unless you already have, in which case you can expect the winds of change to carry good fortune your way.)
DEAR AYNtK...
Thanks to Stevie Wetnap for sharing this bit of pop hilarium. Click on the image to enlarge.Congratulations on the new bay-bee. Try and keep her off the tequila til she's at least 2, would ya?
OOPS, I DID IT AGAIN!
There are a lot of signs I am getting older, but the most disturbing, by far, is that I’ve noticed myself breaking wind in public without even noticing it. It just happened at the water cooler. I was filling up my ceramic mug with hot water to stir up an afternoon cup of hot cocoa when I suddenly caught wind of something dreadful. That’s when it dawned on me that I had just loosed a gaseous ass beast. I fled the scene of the crime immediately, but was followed closely by the persistent brute for a good minute or so before finally losing the stinky bastard out on the fire escape.
When did I get so old I stopped noticing that I was farting? It’s something I remember my sister and I giggling about when we were kids – our great grandmother shuffling about the house, farting noisily and entirely unaware of it. And here *I* am – much younger, and outside the comfort of my own home – letting slip heinous air biscuits as carelessly as I might sniffle or clear my throat.
Maybe it’s got nothing at all to do with age. Maybe I’m just losing my mind. I’ve clearly let down my guard where social embarrassment is concerned, recklessly polluting the air with utter disregard for any humiliation it might cause me. I wonder how many times I've been trapped in an elevator wondering who farted, when all along the guilty farty was me. There it is again! That smell! I think I need to call the gas company because I've definitely got a leak.
****
On a separate note, someone just informed me that the Olympics have started. I had no idea the Olympics were so near. Did you? Aren’t those marathon runners going to get cold trekking about in all this cold weather?
What's that? Winter games? Oh.
I knew that.
When did I get so old I stopped noticing that I was farting? It’s something I remember my sister and I giggling about when we were kids – our great grandmother shuffling about the house, farting noisily and entirely unaware of it. And here *I* am – much younger, and outside the comfort of my own home – letting slip heinous air biscuits as carelessly as I might sniffle or clear my throat.
Maybe it’s got nothing at all to do with age. Maybe I’m just losing my mind. I’ve clearly let down my guard where social embarrassment is concerned, recklessly polluting the air with utter disregard for any humiliation it might cause me. I wonder how many times I've been trapped in an elevator wondering who farted, when all along the guilty farty was me. There it is again! That smell! I think I need to call the gas company because I've definitely got a leak.
****
On a separate note, someone just informed me that the Olympics have started. I had no idea the Olympics were so near. Did you? Aren’t those marathon runners going to get cold trekking about in all this cold weather?
What's that? Winter games? Oh.
I knew that.
FREEDOM OF INFORMATION
Here's a rumor so outlandish I had to check it out on Snopes. Turns out it's TRUE.
Instead of dialing 411 and paying $1.00 or more for information through your phone company, you can call 1-800-FREE-411 and get information for free.
Something about this didn't sound right to me, so I investigated. Turns out there are nearly 6 billion information calls are placed every year, and most of them are assessed a hefty service fee by the service provider. But 1-800-FREE-411 has taken a different tack. They receive your request just like 411, but while they're looking up your information, instead of having a live operator burp salami into the line on the other end, they run a few seconds of an ad. Unless you have a cocaine habit, the difference in the amount of time spent on the phone is negligible...and they'll even offer to connect you for free, just like 411.
I haven't had the opportunity to try this bad boy out yet, but sounds like a great way to avoid all of those expensive service charge add-ons my phone company likes to pile on every month. Next time you need a little 411, remember to dial 1-800-FREE-411 and let me know what you think!
Instead of dialing 411 and paying $1.00 or more for information through your phone company, you can call 1-800-FREE-411 and get information for free.
Something about this didn't sound right to me, so I investigated. Turns out there are nearly 6 billion information calls are placed every year, and most of them are assessed a hefty service fee by the service provider. But 1-800-FREE-411 has taken a different tack. They receive your request just like 411, but while they're looking up your information, instead of having a live operator burp salami into the line on the other end, they run a few seconds of an ad. Unless you have a cocaine habit, the difference in the amount of time spent on the phone is negligible...and they'll even offer to connect you for free, just like 411.
I haven't had the opportunity to try this bad boy out yet, but sounds like a great way to avoid all of those expensive service charge add-ons my phone company likes to pile on every month. Next time you need a little 411, remember to dial 1-800-FREE-411 and let me know what you think!
Thursday, February 09, 2006
FREE EXPRESSION OR PROPHETEERING?
Not since South Park has a cartoon managed to offend so many people so fast.
Last September, a Danish newspaper asked cartoonists for submissions on the subject of the censorship of Muslim issues. They published 12 of the drawings they received featuring the Muslim prophet Mohammed. Some of the drawings, it has been suggested, were not done in great taste. When word of the “blasphemous” cartoons got out, Muslim protest ensued.
As you know, nothing draws a crowd like a crowd, and with protest came curiosity. Folks around the world wanted to understand WHY there was such public outrage over a few fucking cartoon drawings. Since they’d become such a hot topic, a number of other European newspapers decided to publish the cartoons – an editorial decision which, in hindsight, served to both educate the curious masses and enrage angry Muslim protesters from Baghdad to Bangladesh.
Apologies were demanded. But instead of apologies, Western newspapers and governments defended their publication of the cartoons as free press and expression. That institutions of the West would defend blasphemous caricatures of the revered prophet Mohammed further infuriated the nation of Islam. And, as Jim Croce astutely observed, "You don't tug on Superman's cape, you don't spit into the wind, you don't pull the mask off the old lone ranger and you don't infuriate Muslims." The gauntlet was officially thrown down.
One of the newspapers in France that published the cartoons had to evacuate after receiving bomb threats. Protesters threw firebombs and rocks at the Austrian Embassy in Iran. The Danish Consulate’s building in Lebanon was torched. Muslims around the world, from Afghanistan to Pakistan to Indonesia, have been protesting pretty much around the clock. Rioters are throwing stones and knives as they attempt to gain entry to Western embassies and air bases. Police have fired upon crowds, inciting further violence. Sales of American flags skyrocketed as eager rioters rush to burn the stars and stripes. [Sidenote: If I were a flag manufacturer, I'd be focusing my distribution efforts on foreign markets. Think about it. Old Glory can last 20 years or more flying from a flagpole in Flagstaff, but won't last ten minutes out of the plastic in Fallujah.]
The most extreme government protest came from Iran, which fanned the flames of this controversy by cutting off all trade ties with Denmark. Then the President (of Iran, silly!) announced a government-sponsored cartoon contest soliciting drawings that mocked the holocaust. Yes, really. He said he would be curious to see how the Western media would treat such “freedom of expression.” Not to be outdone, an online vendor here in the States (Metrospy) has announced it is now selling T-shirts with one of the offending drawings on it. The scary thing is that it's quickly become their biggest selling item.
So by now you've got to be wondering: Where the hell can I find these horrible cartoons? I would post them here for you but that I have little desire to become any more of a walking target than I already am. Instead, I’ll just refer you to the fearless folks at the Brussels Journal. Click here and judge the controversy for yourself. They're all posted at the bottom of the page for your review.
Much ado about nothing if you ask me.
Last September, a Danish newspaper asked cartoonists for submissions on the subject of the censorship of Muslim issues. They published 12 of the drawings they received featuring the Muslim prophet Mohammed. Some of the drawings, it has been suggested, were not done in great taste. When word of the “blasphemous” cartoons got out, Muslim protest ensued.
As you know, nothing draws a crowd like a crowd, and with protest came curiosity. Folks around the world wanted to understand WHY there was such public outrage over a few fucking cartoon drawings. Since they’d become such a hot topic, a number of other European newspapers decided to publish the cartoons – an editorial decision which, in hindsight, served to both educate the curious masses and enrage angry Muslim protesters from Baghdad to Bangladesh.
Apologies were demanded. But instead of apologies, Western newspapers and governments defended their publication of the cartoons as free press and expression. That institutions of the West would defend blasphemous caricatures of the revered prophet Mohammed further infuriated the nation of Islam. And, as Jim Croce astutely observed, "You don't tug on Superman's cape, you don't spit into the wind, you don't pull the mask off the old lone ranger and you don't infuriate Muslims." The gauntlet was officially thrown down.
One of the newspapers in France that published the cartoons had to evacuate after receiving bomb threats. Protesters threw firebombs and rocks at the Austrian Embassy in Iran. The Danish Consulate’s building in Lebanon was torched. Muslims around the world, from Afghanistan to Pakistan to Indonesia, have been protesting pretty much around the clock. Rioters are throwing stones and knives as they attempt to gain entry to Western embassies and air bases. Police have fired upon crowds, inciting further violence. Sales of American flags skyrocketed as eager rioters rush to burn the stars and stripes. [Sidenote: If I were a flag manufacturer, I'd be focusing my distribution efforts on foreign markets. Think about it. Old Glory can last 20 years or more flying from a flagpole in Flagstaff, but won't last ten minutes out of the plastic in Fallujah.]
The most extreme government protest came from Iran, which fanned the flames of this controversy by cutting off all trade ties with Denmark. Then the President (of Iran, silly!) announced a government-sponsored cartoon contest soliciting drawings that mocked the holocaust. Yes, really. He said he would be curious to see how the Western media would treat such “freedom of expression.” Not to be outdone, an online vendor here in the States (Metrospy) has announced it is now selling T-shirts with one of the offending drawings on it. The scary thing is that it's quickly become their biggest selling item.
So by now you've got to be wondering: Where the hell can I find these horrible cartoons? I would post them here for you but that I have little desire to become any more of a walking target than I already am. Instead, I’ll just refer you to the fearless folks at the Brussels Journal. Click here and judge the controversy for yourself. They're all posted at the bottom of the page for your review.
Much ado about nothing if you ask me.
ME-OW!
Have you seen the addictive Flash game Kitty Cannon? You basically have to see how far you can launch a cat using a kitty cannon. Warning: Like Sudoku, once you start it's hard to stop. I must have blasted that pussy for a good two hours last night.
Need a little incentive? Until you top 1477, you are my beotch!
Need a little incentive? Until you top 1477, you are my beotch!
Wednesday, February 08, 2006
PROCRASTINATION STATION
Need a little break in the middle of your day? That’s what I thought. Check out this fun diversion. Keep your cursor away from the meanie for as long as you can. He’s got a few tricks up his sleeve, so watch out! Oh yeah, and you have to stay on the blue mat or your time will reset. Enjoy!
Warning: This guy is a persistent bastard.
Warning: This guy is a persistent bastard.
Tuesday, February 07, 2006
CREATIVE BRIEF
It's okay...we can stop talking about the Super Bowl commercials now. Really. It's the same shit every year. Everybody gets super excited to watch the commercials because we don't give a rat's ass who wins the fucking game - and then all we hear about the next day is how shitty the commercials were. Every year. People need to lower their expectations just a tad. Not every :30 TV ad can be a staggering work of genius. Here's why:
CREATIVE BRIEF
11:47 a.m.
For those of you who may be unfamiliar, I am in advertising. Creative advertising. Direct marketing. Persuasive communications. In fact, if you do any kind of marketing at all, you should e-mail me – I guarantee I can improve your marketing ROI. But enough sales – today I want to tell you about how creative advertising gets done in the real world.
Every once in a while I’m sure you see or hear an ad you really like – a cute outdoor board, a clever television spot, a funny radio ad, etc. But what you don’t get to see are all the good ideas that never made it. In fact, most of the best creative work gets shit-canned before the client even sees it. Really. All my best ideas end up in the recycling bin, literally.
What happens, typically, is a client calls with a particular need. A new logo. A web site. A direct mail package. An integrated marketing campaign: signage, take-ones, splash URL, postcard mailings, fulfillment DM - you name it. The need could be anything in the realm of marketing communications – from basic strategy decks to pretty PowerPoint presentations. Sometimes a client doesn’t even know what they need other than to get more people to buy their stuff, so they ask us to provide a little guidance – which we are always more than happy to do because we're in the business of getting people to buy things they don't need with money they either don't have or ought to be saving for social security's inevitable insolvency.
After the needs discovery phase, creative deliverables are itemized and a completely unreasonable schedule is drawn up. That’s because most people looking for creative marketing don’t understand the triangle principle.
...............^
...........GOOD
........./...............CHEAP.....FAST
In the world of advertising, and indeed in most business endeavors, the triangle principle is the golden rule. Simply put, you can choose any two sides you want - but ONLY TWO. So you can get your marketing good and fast, but it won’t be cheap. You can get it good and cheap, but it will take forever. Or you can get it cheap and fast, but it won’t be any good. Sorry, that's the way of the world. Economists call it opportunity cost. Everything comes at the expense of something else. Quality for speed. Speed for price. Price for quality. Etc.
Unfortunately, as I stated earlier, most people looking for creative marketing don’t understand the triangle principle – they come in looking for, and expecting, all three sides! So it then becomes the agency's challenge to deliver on the illusion that we are good, fast, AND cheap – when the fact of the matter is I'd have better luck getting a sponge bath from Stacy Keibler than hitting that improbable Trifecta.
So how is “creative” work actually created?
Basically, once a job has been “kicked off,” it ends up in the hands of a creative lead – someone whose job it is to ensure the job is completed on time, on strategy, and within budget. That would be me, and sometimes we actually achieve one of those basic objectives.
“Creative” department folks like to stroll in late, surf the web, suck down a shitload of coffee, and come up with pages full of rockin’ ideas only we think are brilliant. We loaf around until somebody calls a meeting during which everyone sits around in a highly agitated state and argues for really bad ideas. These are called brainstorming sessions – but they should be called ass-storming sessions considering all of the crap that gets thrown around. Still, submersed in all of that crap is usually a gem of an idea or two. I can usually spot that gem right away - but you've sometimes got to wait a while before other people come around to it. The trick to getting good ideas produced is to avoid ramming them through, but instead let people think they discovered them on their own. Sometimes that means patting someone else on the back for your stroke of genius.
Eventually, the creative team will come to a consensus on a kick-ass idea we all think has legs. Ten minutes later we all let loose a collective sigh when we realize the client would never go for it. That’s usually when I stand up and suggest we show the client our idea anyhow since we all think it's the best one in the room. Everyone chuckles at the absurdity of the notion as though it were offered in jest, and I walk off to get another cup of coffee comfortable in having spoken my peace. The best idea is officially killed and we move on.
By meeting's end, we typically wind up settling on the third or fourth best concepts which we then comp up for client review.
The gate-keeping account folks on the client side reflexively second-guess pretty much anything in those concepts that might be even accidentally considered offensive (otherwise known as "entertaining") and have us tone the creative down. So we tone it down and send back a mere shadow of the original concept, which is then passed around again where about a dozen different people (consulted randomly in the hallway) drop their pants and pee all over it because everybody's a fucking ad wizard. The disheartened, dispirited creative team then must sift through a damp list of comments reeking of irrelevant criticism and inane suggestions.
The final route of the concept is shattered and reassembled chinese menu style, where everyone's comments are incorporated so that the resulting creative work pleases no one. Although everyone agrees it could be much better, this is what gets "approved." At this point it gets sent to the client's legal department where the copy is modified further to remove anything that might be mistaken as humorous or insightful, and a litany of legal disclosures are added.
The resulting piece of shit is produced and THAT'S what you end up seeing, reading, or hearing. So let's cut the ad folks some slack. We're doing our best to rock your world - we just have a hard time convincing everyone else in the chain to roll with it.
CREATIVE BRIEF
11:47 a.m.
For those of you who may be unfamiliar, I am in advertising. Creative advertising. Direct marketing. Persuasive communications. In fact, if you do any kind of marketing at all, you should e-mail me – I guarantee I can improve your marketing ROI. But enough sales – today I want to tell you about how creative advertising gets done in the real world.
Every once in a while I’m sure you see or hear an ad you really like – a cute outdoor board, a clever television spot, a funny radio ad, etc. But what you don’t get to see are all the good ideas that never made it. In fact, most of the best creative work gets shit-canned before the client even sees it. Really. All my best ideas end up in the recycling bin, literally.
What happens, typically, is a client calls with a particular need. A new logo. A web site. A direct mail package. An integrated marketing campaign: signage, take-ones, splash URL, postcard mailings, fulfillment DM - you name it. The need could be anything in the realm of marketing communications – from basic strategy decks to pretty PowerPoint presentations. Sometimes a client doesn’t even know what they need other than to get more people to buy their stuff, so they ask us to provide a little guidance – which we are always more than happy to do because we're in the business of getting people to buy things they don't need with money they either don't have or ought to be saving for social security's inevitable insolvency.
After the needs discovery phase, creative deliverables are itemized and a completely unreasonable schedule is drawn up. That’s because most people looking for creative marketing don’t understand the triangle principle.
...............^
...........GOOD
........./...............CHEAP.....FAST
In the world of advertising, and indeed in most business endeavors, the triangle principle is the golden rule. Simply put, you can choose any two sides you want - but ONLY TWO. So you can get your marketing good and fast, but it won’t be cheap. You can get it good and cheap, but it will take forever. Or you can get it cheap and fast, but it won’t be any good. Sorry, that's the way of the world. Economists call it opportunity cost. Everything comes at the expense of something else. Quality for speed. Speed for price. Price for quality. Etc.
Unfortunately, as I stated earlier, most people looking for creative marketing don’t understand the triangle principle – they come in looking for, and expecting, all three sides! So it then becomes the agency's challenge to deliver on the illusion that we are good, fast, AND cheap – when the fact of the matter is I'd have better luck getting a sponge bath from Stacy Keibler than hitting that improbable Trifecta.
So how is “creative” work actually created?
Basically, once a job has been “kicked off,” it ends up in the hands of a creative lead – someone whose job it is to ensure the job is completed on time, on strategy, and within budget. That would be me, and sometimes we actually achieve one of those basic objectives.
“Creative” department folks like to stroll in late, surf the web, suck down a shitload of coffee, and come up with pages full of rockin’ ideas only we think are brilliant. We loaf around until somebody calls a meeting during which everyone sits around in a highly agitated state and argues for really bad ideas. These are called brainstorming sessions – but they should be called ass-storming sessions considering all of the crap that gets thrown around. Still, submersed in all of that crap is usually a gem of an idea or two. I can usually spot that gem right away - but you've sometimes got to wait a while before other people come around to it. The trick to getting good ideas produced is to avoid ramming them through, but instead let people think they discovered them on their own. Sometimes that means patting someone else on the back for your stroke of genius.
Eventually, the creative team will come to a consensus on a kick-ass idea we all think has legs. Ten minutes later we all let loose a collective sigh when we realize the client would never go for it. That’s usually when I stand up and suggest we show the client our idea anyhow since we all think it's the best one in the room. Everyone chuckles at the absurdity of the notion as though it were offered in jest, and I walk off to get another cup of coffee comfortable in having spoken my peace. The best idea is officially killed and we move on.
By meeting's end, we typically wind up settling on the third or fourth best concepts which we then comp up for client review.
The gate-keeping account folks on the client side reflexively second-guess pretty much anything in those concepts that might be even accidentally considered offensive (otherwise known as "entertaining") and have us tone the creative down. So we tone it down and send back a mere shadow of the original concept, which is then passed around again where about a dozen different people (consulted randomly in the hallway) drop their pants and pee all over it because everybody's a fucking ad wizard. The disheartened, dispirited creative team then must sift through a damp list of comments reeking of irrelevant criticism and inane suggestions.
The final route of the concept is shattered and reassembled chinese menu style, where everyone's comments are incorporated so that the resulting creative work pleases no one. Although everyone agrees it could be much better, this is what gets "approved." At this point it gets sent to the client's legal department where the copy is modified further to remove anything that might be mistaken as humorous or insightful, and a litany of legal disclosures are added.
The resulting piece of shit is produced and THAT'S what you end up seeing, reading, or hearing. So let's cut the ad folks some slack. We're doing our best to rock your world - we just have a hard time convincing everyone else in the chain to roll with it.
Monday, February 06, 2006
I HOPE THAT SOMEONE GETS MY...
55-year-old Harvey Bennett was a curious boat captain. Not bi-curious in a “I wonder what that would feel like” kind of way. But more like, “I wonder what would happen if I let sail five plastic bottles in the ocean off the coast of Long Island, NY.” Just your average, everyday curiosity about life and the world around him.
So last August, Harvey did just that – he let sail 5 plastic bottles in the ocean off the coast of Long Island, NY. And inside each bottle he included a message along with his address, asking for a reply.
Last month, believe it or not, Harvey actually got one! It was a letter sent all the way from England. Here’s what it read:
“I recently found your bottle while taking a scenic walk on the beach by Poole Harbour. While you may consider this some profound experiment on the path and speed of oceanic currents, I have another name for it, litter. You Americans don't seem to be happy unless you are mucking about somewhere.”
The letter was signed by Henry Biggelsworth of Bournemouth, Dorset. A fucking prick if ever a fucking prick there were.
“I kind of felt like no good deed goes unpunished,” said Harvey. It’s true, Harvey – not that your relatively harmless act of curiosity could be considered a good deed. Still, it certainly deserved a better reception than the venomous reply you received in the post. We have another name for uninspired cynics bent on ruining memorable life experiences for other people: asshole. That he took the time to scold you, and all Americans, in a thoughtfully crafted reply is a sad reflection of his dreary life.
If I were you, I’d return to your spot off the coast of Long island with a truckload of empty bottles, stuff them with cigarette butts and fast food wrappers, and send them off to your “friend” beyond the sea to thank him for his reply.
“I recently received your reply and wanted to send along a token of my appreciation – several hundred glass castaways you can shove up your fucking ass, you cheeky bastard. Your friend, Harvey.”
So last August, Harvey did just that – he let sail 5 plastic bottles in the ocean off the coast of Long Island, NY. And inside each bottle he included a message along with his address, asking for a reply.
Last month, believe it or not, Harvey actually got one! It was a letter sent all the way from England. Here’s what it read:
“I recently found your bottle while taking a scenic walk on the beach by Poole Harbour. While you may consider this some profound experiment on the path and speed of oceanic currents, I have another name for it, litter. You Americans don't seem to be happy unless you are mucking about somewhere.”
The letter was signed by Henry Biggelsworth of Bournemouth, Dorset. A fucking prick if ever a fucking prick there were.
“I kind of felt like no good deed goes unpunished,” said Harvey. It’s true, Harvey – not that your relatively harmless act of curiosity could be considered a good deed. Still, it certainly deserved a better reception than the venomous reply you received in the post. We have another name for uninspired cynics bent on ruining memorable life experiences for other people: asshole. That he took the time to scold you, and all Americans, in a thoughtfully crafted reply is a sad reflection of his dreary life.
If I were you, I’d return to your spot off the coast of Long island with a truckload of empty bottles, stuff them with cigarette butts and fast food wrappers, and send them off to your “friend” beyond the sea to thank him for his reply.
“I recently received your reply and wanted to send along a token of my appreciation – several hundred glass castaways you can shove up your fucking ass, you cheeky bastard. Your friend, Harvey.”
CHUCK THIS OUT
Let’s face it, Chuck Norris is the man. Always will be. And if the list of Norrisian facts I posted a few weeks ago wasn’t enough to prove it, here’s a link you need to check out. It’s a compilation of little known facts about the legendary American assbeater. Read it. Study it. Memorize it. There may be a quiz, and it may be administered by Chuck Norris.
Failure to recognize Chuck’s power may result in your swift expiration. Consider yourself warned.
Your guide to everything Chuck
Failure to recognize Chuck’s power may result in your swift expiration. Consider yourself warned.
Your guide to everything Chuck
NOT SUCH A BAD IDEA AFTER ALL
Idiots of the world prosper! Some would call this idea brilliant...but only in hindsight. Who would have predicted so many advertisers would have rushed to get their name on this guy's Internet ad board?
It’s called the Million Dollar Homepage and it's a single web page on which you will find a massive mosaic of advertisements. Apparently, this guy started selling pixel space on his “billboard” and the concept caught on fast after he managed a little press. SO many people came to check out the site, more and more companies wanted to get in on the action.
Now it’s the ultimate opportunity for online advertisers to get noticed.
It's a fun place to find niche advertisers - move your cursor around the screen a bit and read what some of these sites have to offer. Then go fuck yourself. Sorry, my monkey got a hold of my keyboard again. BAD monkey!
It’s called the Million Dollar Homepage and it's a single web page on which you will find a massive mosaic of advertisements. Apparently, this guy started selling pixel space on his “billboard” and the concept caught on fast after he managed a little press. SO many people came to check out the site, more and more companies wanted to get in on the action.
Now it’s the ultimate opportunity for online advertisers to get noticed.
It's a fun place to find niche advertisers - move your cursor around the screen a bit and read what some of these sites have to offer. Then go fuck yourself. Sorry, my monkey got a hold of my keyboard again. BAD monkey!
Friday, February 03, 2006
THAT'S LIFE
I was hanging out at the pharmacy this morning, as I like to do on Friday mornings, and I noticed an advertisement on the counter. It asked I felt distracted. Trouble focusing? Restless? Disorganized? Yes, yes, yes and yes.
Then it suggested I may have something called Adult ADD.
Adult Attention Deficit Disorder. Can you believe that shit? And guess what…there’s a drug to help with it! Can you imagine the luck??
There’s another name for Adult Attention Deficit Disorder. It’s called LIFE.
Listen…there’s a lot of shit going on in the world and trying to keep track of it all is not easy. All the gadgets and devices and technology invented to make our lives easier really only make things more complicated by giving us more things to keep track of.
Remember how nice it used to be before cell phones? If someone needed to reach you, they called you at home and left a fucking message. Today, everyone you know has direct access to your person at all times. And the shit you have to pay for now? There are cable bills, Internet cable bills, cell phone bills, and countless other niche services out there nickling and diming us to death. There’s IPOD and Blackberry and BlueTooth – and warranties and rebates to keep on top of for all of that shit. Pagers and PDA’s and phones that play video. Plasma televisions, LCD monitors, DVD recorders. And technology changes so frequently you’re always upgrading something to keep up with the times. A new television. A new computer. A new MP3 player. A new digital camera. A new car. A new satellite radio. How many big-ticket electronics did you buy over the past couple years? Growing up I had a single Atari 2600 system, television was FREE, and I shared a telephone with three other people. We didn't even have an answering machine until the mid-80's, so if nobody was home, you had to call back. Those were the days. People actually had time to spend and money to save.
Shit ain’t like that today. Folks are always on the go. Gotta stay connected. And with so much information at our disposal, it’s no wonder we feel overwhelmed. It’s not Adult Attention Deficit Disorder...it’s Busy Fucking World Disorder. More shit to buy = more shit to keep track of = less time for family = less money in the bank = A.D.D.
I’d like to update the classic Hasbro board game “The Game of Life” to be relevant to the times. There’d be plenty of new squares out there:
Try crystal meth – Lose 10 turns and $10,000
Your identity was stolen! – Lose 5 turns and $5,000
Your spouse runs off with a foreign artist – You’re single again!
Health care costs increase again – Pay $2,500
Child molested by Catholic priest – Pay $2000 in counseling for 5 turns
Insurance company refuses to pay claim on technicality – Pay $4,500
New home in suburbs much farther from work – Pay $100 per turn in gas
Hit and run drunk driver puts you in hospital – Lose 4 turns and pay $15,000
Your oldest son is an addict – Put him back in your car and pay $250 for 3 turns
Alcohol becomes a permanent part of your life – Pay $150 per turn
You’ve got Chlamydia! Wash your hands before every turn
Car towed again – Pay $50
Paternity test reveals you ARE on the father! – Pay $20000 per turn for 18 turns
Corporate scandal wipes out your 401K – Lose your entire savings
You’ve got lung cancer! – Skip ahead to House of Reckoning
War in Middle East takes the lives of half your children
Arrested committing armed robbery to feed family – Lose 20 turns, spouse, and kids
Move to Utah – Add 4 spouses and 22 children
You’ve been sued! – Hand all of your money to the lawyer on your right
Plastic surgery goes bad – Lose spouse and $20,000
Spouse has child out of wedlock – Lose spouse or pay $2500 per turn to raise child
New season of Survivor hooks you – Lose one turn
Hurricane blows through – Lose home, one child, 8 turns, and $50,000
Get hooked on designer drug to treat Adult A.D.D. - Lose $100 per turn and your sanity
Then it suggested I may have something called Adult ADD.
Adult Attention Deficit Disorder. Can you believe that shit? And guess what…there’s a drug to help with it! Can you imagine the luck??
There’s another name for Adult Attention Deficit Disorder. It’s called LIFE.
Listen…there’s a lot of shit going on in the world and trying to keep track of it all is not easy. All the gadgets and devices and technology invented to make our lives easier really only make things more complicated by giving us more things to keep track of.
Remember how nice it used to be before cell phones? If someone needed to reach you, they called you at home and left a fucking message. Today, everyone you know has direct access to your person at all times. And the shit you have to pay for now? There are cable bills, Internet cable bills, cell phone bills, and countless other niche services out there nickling and diming us to death. There’s IPOD and Blackberry and BlueTooth – and warranties and rebates to keep on top of for all of that shit. Pagers and PDA’s and phones that play video. Plasma televisions, LCD monitors, DVD recorders. And technology changes so frequently you’re always upgrading something to keep up with the times. A new television. A new computer. A new MP3 player. A new digital camera. A new car. A new satellite radio. How many big-ticket electronics did you buy over the past couple years? Growing up I had a single Atari 2600 system, television was FREE, and I shared a telephone with three other people. We didn't even have an answering machine until the mid-80's, so if nobody was home, you had to call back. Those were the days. People actually had time to spend and money to save.
Shit ain’t like that today. Folks are always on the go. Gotta stay connected. And with so much information at our disposal, it’s no wonder we feel overwhelmed. It’s not Adult Attention Deficit Disorder...it’s Busy Fucking World Disorder. More shit to buy = more shit to keep track of = less time for family = less money in the bank = A.D.D.
I’d like to update the classic Hasbro board game “The Game of Life” to be relevant to the times. There’d be plenty of new squares out there:
Try crystal meth – Lose 10 turns and $10,000
Your identity was stolen! – Lose 5 turns and $5,000
Your spouse runs off with a foreign artist – You’re single again!
Health care costs increase again – Pay $2,500
Child molested by Catholic priest – Pay $2000 in counseling for 5 turns
Insurance company refuses to pay claim on technicality – Pay $4,500
New home in suburbs much farther from work – Pay $100 per turn in gas
Hit and run drunk driver puts you in hospital – Lose 4 turns and pay $15,000
Your oldest son is an addict – Put him back in your car and pay $250 for 3 turns
Alcohol becomes a permanent part of your life – Pay $150 per turn
You’ve got Chlamydia! Wash your hands before every turn
Car towed again – Pay $50
Paternity test reveals you ARE on the father! – Pay $20000 per turn for 18 turns
Corporate scandal wipes out your 401K – Lose your entire savings
You’ve got lung cancer! – Skip ahead to House of Reckoning
War in Middle East takes the lives of half your children
Arrested committing armed robbery to feed family – Lose 20 turns, spouse, and kids
Move to Utah – Add 4 spouses and 22 children
You’ve been sued! – Hand all of your money to the lawyer on your right
Plastic surgery goes bad – Lose spouse and $20,000
Spouse has child out of wedlock – Lose spouse or pay $2500 per turn to raise child
New season of Survivor hooks you – Lose one turn
Hurricane blows through – Lose home, one child, 8 turns, and $50,000
Get hooked on designer drug to treat Adult A.D.D. - Lose $100 per turn and your sanity
Thursday, February 02, 2006
CHECKING I.D.
There was an article in the paper earlier this week in which an individual who claimed to be one of the principal and primary architects of the concept of Intelligent Design defended the base of the belief. Essentially, as I'm sure you must all well know by now, the claim is that life is too complex to be attributable to chance. These people obviously managed to attain their sheepskins without ever having had to master math or statistics. Seriously, how arrogant is it for us to think that we are too wonderful to be the products of fortuna, even across billions of years (and perhaps billions upon billions)? Are we even sure this is the first universe ever? Given how little we really know, is it not possible that, prior to the Big Bang, there were 10 other or 100 or 1000 others?
Further, to that....why is it not every bit as conceivable to say: "Hey, this universe has been around roughly 15 billion years...and has 250 billion galaxies, each with millions of planets...it was BOUND to happen, sooner or later!"
OPEN LETTER TO THE EDITOR OF THE DALLAS NEWS:
Subject: Sunday, January 29, 2006: Stephen C. Meyer: "Signs of
intelligence"
Date: Sun, 29 Jan 2006 22:34:27 -0600
How ironic that an article titled "Signs of Intelligence" would be so completely devoid of any.
Mr Meyer, a Cambridge PhD, no less, would have us believe that biological systems within our world are so complex that the only feasible explanation is Intelligent Design. Mr. Darwin first published his landmark and controversial theory in 1853, the same year in which:
The population of the 31 United States was 20 Million Free Persons and 2 Million Slaves.
Franklin Pierce took over the presidency from Millard Filmore.
Singer just applied for a patent for his new sewing machine.
The Crimean War was being fought.
"Around the World in 80 Days" was still 20 years off!
In the succeeding 150 years, we've established international air flight, envisioned and built the Internet, been to the moon, discovered and conquered disease (remember, in 1853, Louis Pasteur was still trying to convince people to wash their hands prior to sawing people open, and we used leeches in an earnest attempt to cure bullet wounds to our President 10 years later), and have opened our eyes to our universe which is presently estimated to house 250 Billion galaxies. In all that time, though, our only proposal to advance Mr. Darwin's theory is to say:
"It's just too complicated for Darwin's framework. Must have been done by a greater intelligence than our own."
How about this? There are 250 Billion galaxies, each with millions upon millions of stars. The universe is roughly 13 Billion years old. That's a lot of time and a lot of places for incredibly complex things to come about of their own accord. And that's only in our universe. Many scientists postulate that this universe is only one of multiple dimensions. Still others question if universes have been created and destroyed, ad infinitum, for all of time.
That's a lot of gray area to eat into the certitude of attributing all life to a divine intervention. Look how much our own world has changed in 150 years. Isn't it a bit small-minded to rule out the inumerable possible machinations of billions of locations across billions of years?
Further, to that....why is it not every bit as conceivable to say: "Hey, this universe has been around roughly 15 billion years...and has 250 billion galaxies, each with millions of planets...it was BOUND to happen, sooner or later!" OPEN LETTER TO THE EDITOR OF THE DALLAS NEWS:
Subject: Sunday, January 29, 2006: Stephen C. Meyer: "Signs of
intelligence"
Date: Sun, 29 Jan 2006 22:34:27 -0600
How ironic that an article titled "Signs of Intelligence" would be so completely devoid of any.
Mr Meyer, a Cambridge PhD, no less, would have us believe that biological systems within our world are so complex that the only feasible explanation is Intelligent Design. Mr. Darwin first published his landmark and controversial theory in 1853, the same year in which:
The population of the 31 United States was 20 Million Free Persons and 2 Million Slaves.
Franklin Pierce took over the presidency from Millard Filmore.
Singer just applied for a patent for his new sewing machine.
The Crimean War was being fought.
"Around the World in 80 Days" was still 20 years off!
In the succeeding 150 years, we've established international air flight, envisioned and built the Internet, been to the moon, discovered and conquered disease (remember, in 1853, Louis Pasteur was still trying to convince people to wash their hands prior to sawing people open, and we used leeches in an earnest attempt to cure bullet wounds to our President 10 years later), and have opened our eyes to our universe which is presently estimated to house 250 Billion galaxies. In all that time, though, our only proposal to advance Mr. Darwin's theory is to say:
"It's just too complicated for Darwin's framework. Must have been done by a greater intelligence than our own."
How about this? There are 250 Billion galaxies, each with millions upon millions of stars. The universe is roughly 13 Billion years old. That's a lot of time and a lot of places for incredibly complex things to come about of their own accord. And that's only in our universe. Many scientists postulate that this universe is only one of multiple dimensions. Still others question if universes have been created and destroyed, ad infinitum, for all of time.
That's a lot of gray area to eat into the certitude of attributing all life to a divine intervention. Look how much our own world has changed in 150 years. Isn't it a bit small-minded to rule out the inumerable possible machinations of billions of locations across billions of years?
Wednesday, February 01, 2006
SOMETIMES YOU GET MORE THAN WHAT YOU PAY FOR
The Nike "swoosh" logo was created by a design student who received $35 for the effort.
Quite possibly the steal of the last millenium.
Quite possibly the steal of the last millenium.
FATE OF THE UNION?
President Bush delivered his State of the Union address last night, but making headlines was an episode involving Senator Hillary Clinton in which she was heard uttering an endless stream of obscenities. According to reports, one of the electronic components in her central nervous circuit board shorted out, resulting in a motor malfunction. Witnesses say she shook and vibrated uncontrollably for 22 seconds, repeating the phrase: "That asshole can suck my dick" over and over until a handler was able to repair the shorted wiring. Hillary is seen in this AP photo stuttering on the word "dick." There has been no official word on whether or not she actually has one, a mystery insiders say is best left unsolved.
SPAM HUMOR FOR YOU
A little boy goes to his father and asks, "What is Politics?"
Dad says, "Well son, let me try to explain it this way: I'm the head of the family, so call me The President. Your mother is the administrator of the money, so we call her the Government. We're here to take care of your needs, so we'll call you the People. The nanny, we'll consider her the Working Class. And your baby brother, we'll call him the Future. Now think about that and see if it makes sense."
So the little boy goes off to bed thinking about what Dad has said.
Later that night, he hears his baby brother crying, so he gets up to check on him. He finds that the baby has severely soiled his diaper. So the little boy goes to his parent's room and finds his mother sound asleep. Not wanting to wake her, he goes to the nanny's room. Finding the door locked, he peeks in the keyhole and sees his father in bed with the nanny. He gives up and goes back to bed.
The next morning, the little boy say's to his father, "Dad, I think I understand the concept of politics now." The father says, "Good, son, tell me in your own words what you think politics is all about."
The little boy replies, "The President is screwing the Working Class while the Government is sound asleep. The People are being ignored and the Future is in deep shit."
Dad says, "Well son, let me try to explain it this way: I'm the head of the family, so call me The President. Your mother is the administrator of the money, so we call her the Government. We're here to take care of your needs, so we'll call you the People. The nanny, we'll consider her the Working Class. And your baby brother, we'll call him the Future. Now think about that and see if it makes sense."
So the little boy goes off to bed thinking about what Dad has said.
Later that night, he hears his baby brother crying, so he gets up to check on him. He finds that the baby has severely soiled his diaper. So the little boy goes to his parent's room and finds his mother sound asleep. Not wanting to wake her, he goes to the nanny's room. Finding the door locked, he peeks in the keyhole and sees his father in bed with the nanny. He gives up and goes back to bed.
The next morning, the little boy say's to his father, "Dad, I think I understand the concept of politics now." The father says, "Good, son, tell me in your own words what you think politics is all about."
The little boy replies, "The President is screwing the Working Class while the Government is sound asleep. The People are being ignored and the Future is in deep shit."
Tuesday, January 31, 2006
CHIMPANZEE-MAIL
Thanks to Lainey for passing along this viral marketing gem. Have fun customizing monkeys like me and sending voice greetings to everyone you know! Try out the different voices - and when you type in your personal greeting, think phonetically to make sure the computer pronounces it right. Hours of mindless fun, my friends.
Without further ado, I give you Monk-e-mail.
Without further ado, I give you Monk-e-mail.
ALL YOU NEED TO KNOW
Just wanted to let everyone know that I just looked down and noticed I am wearing plain white socks with my black dress shoes and gray wool pants. So if you've ever felt entertained, informed, or mildly amused by something you've read here, you should know that it was the work of a man who can't even dress himself. That is all - please go back to work, you slacker.
Monday, January 30, 2006
JOY IN MUDDVILLE
Today, the Exxon Mobil Corporation posted record profits. Again.
And not just record profits for Exxon, but record profits for any U.S. company. I should further qualify that. Today, Exxon posted record profits for ANY U.S. company EVER in the history of our great nation. I don't know about you, but it sure makes me proud to be an American. HAY'LL YEAH! Fill me up, baby. I'm living the dream of making men in expensive suits filthy fucking rich. And do you know what? They deserve every cent for providing me the luxury of transportation. Thanks to their product, I don't have to live next to the place I work. I can live miles and miles away in a nice neighborhood and still get to work every day, whether I choose to drive, cab, or take the bus. Thanks to refined oil, I can see my parents whenever I want, which I would do more but for the high price of gas. Thanks to gasoline, I can go wherever I want whenever I want - even pick you up on the way! Yeah - gasoline rules.
The last time they posted record profits (last quarter, I believe), I was a little hard on those bastards. I've had some time to think about it since then and I've since come to the conclusion that they have every right to charge whatever they want for gas. I just want them to be honest about it. Don't tell us gas is expensive because of the war in Iraq or the high price of crude or a shortage in the world's oil reserves. Tell us gas is expensive because they're running their business as any publicly traded company should be run - with shareholder interests in mind. Record profits = stock price goes up.
It's just too bad that consumers didn't have the vision to see how so many areas of our lives would become dependent on a single resource provided by an alarmingly few companies - not to mention how dangerous that is. We keep moving further away from our jobs and our friends and our loved ones to get into bigger and better houses - and now we must pay the ferrymen if we want to remain connected. I can't complain anymore - where I live and what I do are choices I make. I can always move.
The surest way to save on gas is to use less of it.
And not just record profits for Exxon, but record profits for any U.S. company. I should further qualify that. Today, Exxon posted record profits for ANY U.S. company EVER in the history of our great nation. I don't know about you, but it sure makes me proud to be an American. HAY'LL YEAH! Fill me up, baby. I'm living the dream of making men in expensive suits filthy fucking rich. And do you know what? They deserve every cent for providing me the luxury of transportation. Thanks to their product, I don't have to live next to the place I work. I can live miles and miles away in a nice neighborhood and still get to work every day, whether I choose to drive, cab, or take the bus. Thanks to refined oil, I can see my parents whenever I want, which I would do more but for the high price of gas. Thanks to gasoline, I can go wherever I want whenever I want - even pick you up on the way! Yeah - gasoline rules.
The last time they posted record profits (last quarter, I believe), I was a little hard on those bastards. I've had some time to think about it since then and I've since come to the conclusion that they have every right to charge whatever they want for gas. I just want them to be honest about it. Don't tell us gas is expensive because of the war in Iraq or the high price of crude or a shortage in the world's oil reserves. Tell us gas is expensive because they're running their business as any publicly traded company should be run - with shareholder interests in mind. Record profits = stock price goes up.
It's just too bad that consumers didn't have the vision to see how so many areas of our lives would become dependent on a single resource provided by an alarmingly few companies - not to mention how dangerous that is. We keep moving further away from our jobs and our friends and our loved ones to get into bigger and better houses - and now we must pay the ferrymen if we want to remain connected. I can't complain anymore - where I live and what I do are choices I make. I can always move.
The surest way to save on gas is to use less of it.
WANNA GET AWAY?
Here's a real-life Southwest Airlines commercial from Cambridge, England.
According to reports, a visitor to the Fitzwilliam Museum tripped on his own shoelace at the top of a flight of stairs, took a tumble down them and crashed into a window sill - bringing down three Qing dynasty Chinese vases from the late 17th century. Oops. Wanna get away??
One good trip deserves another.
The vases had been donated to The Fitzwilliam Museum in the city of Cambridge back in 1948, and were among the best-known artifacts in the museum's collection. They had been safe on their window sill perch for 40 years before crashing to the floor. The museum director was kind in the wake of the accident: "It was a most unfortunate and regrettable accident, but we are glad that the visitor involved was able to leave the museum unharmed."
The Museum has reported intentions to put the Qingty dumpty collection back together again, despite its many fragments.
According to reports, a visitor to the Fitzwilliam Museum tripped on his own shoelace at the top of a flight of stairs, took a tumble down them and crashed into a window sill - bringing down three Qing dynasty Chinese vases from the late 17th century. Oops. Wanna get away??
One good trip deserves another.
The vases had been donated to The Fitzwilliam Museum in the city of Cambridge back in 1948, and were among the best-known artifacts in the museum's collection. They had been safe on their window sill perch for 40 years before crashing to the floor. The museum director was kind in the wake of the accident: "It was a most unfortunate and regrettable accident, but we are glad that the visitor involved was able to leave the museum unharmed."
The Museum has reported intentions to put the Qingty dumpty collection back together again, despite its many fragments.
SPAM I AM
To all of my well-intended friends who continue to send me warnings year after year that my cell phone number is about to be released to a plundering horde of telemarketers, please visit this link.
This recurring SPAM nightmare is not true, yet continues to live despite my numerous attempts to kill it with heavily promoted doses of the truth. Please share this message with your friends so they will sleep better at night. The only people authorized to call your cell phone number are the people you have given it to. Or the people who found it scribbled in pen on the bathroom wall.
That's all you need to know about that.
This recurring SPAM nightmare is not true, yet continues to live despite my numerous attempts to kill it with heavily promoted doses of the truth. Please share this message with your friends so they will sleep better at night. The only people authorized to call your cell phone number are the people you have given it to. Or the people who found it scribbled in pen on the bathroom wall.
That's all you need to know about that.
Friday, January 27, 2006
AMERICAN IDOLS
Israel has ruled out peace talks with the Palestinian government now that it is controlled by the radical Islamist group Hamas. Ruling out peace talks, incidentally, is a strategy that has never once in the history of mankind led to peace. And with Iran ramping up their nuclear program, it’s really only a matter of time before there’s all out nuclear war in the Middle East. The Doomsday Machine is warming up…so if there's anything you'd like to do in your life, do it now. You've probably only got a few years left before WWIII.
Meanwhile, back here in the States, we’re more concerned with things like gay cowboys and washed-up celebrity dance-offs. And did you hear that Reese Witherspoon was given the same dress to wear for this year’s Golden Globe Awards as Kirsten Dunst three years ago? Of course you did – it was big NEWS.
There’s bigger news out there. Like the president’s support for warrantless surveillance. Two years ago he said it was illegal and not something his administration supported. Now he’s saying it’s a necessary evil in the war on terror. What changed between then and now? He got caught doing it – that’s what changed. Privacy and freedom are being painted over one small presidential stroke at a time. But who can argue if it’s all in the name of home security?
“They that would give up essential liberty to purchase a little temporary safety, deserve neither liberty nor safety."
Contrary to popular belief, these words do not belong to Benji F. They were included in a book he helped publish, but Ben did not write them. That doesn't make them any less powerful or relevant, however. Our Commander in Chief is making sure he has absolute authority on all matters of security in order to be effective in the war on terror, when absoulte authority clearly conflicts with the ideals that make our country great. Consider Russia. They've always gone about things a little differently, censoring the media, spying on citizens, etc., and they've been no more successful combatting the Islamic Chechen rebels than we were at preventing a handful of religious zealots from thrusting a fiery blade into our gut and altering the course of history. Making us less free does not necessarily make us more safe.
If anything, it makes us more scared. Not only do we fear the terrorists, we come to distrust and resent the people we presume are protecting us from them.
But this is just one of many topics of discussion I'd suggest is more relevant to our lives than whose party Paris Hilton ended up at last weekend, as newsworthy as that is.
You know what else is news? There’s a man about to be confirmed for the Supreme Court who many believe will attempt to overturn Roe v. Wade. Democrats oppose the decidedly conservative Alito, while Republicans support him. Ho hum...what else is new? And because the Republicans are in control of Congress, Alito will be confirmed next Tuesday. Why is this news? Because this guy's his rulings, like all of the Supreme Court’s rulings, will have the power to change America - and, more importantly, your life. But never mind that – did you see American Idol this week? Yeah - that was some funny shit.
I wonder what those three would have to say about Alito.
Randy: “You scare me, dude. I mean, all that stuff you talk and your record and stuff. Dog – I don’t know.”
Simon: “Paula?”
Paula: “I don’t know. I kinda like his look. It’s hip. The glasses are cute. And you seem like a genuine well-intended individual.”
Simon: “Paula, you’re being too kind. Listen to what he’s saying. He’s an absolute disaster of a nominee. Alito – you have zero judicial talent. You’re not even qualified to decide what to eat for lunch. I’ve heard enough. Randy what do you say?”
Randy: “Sorry dog. I’m just not feeling ya.”
Simon: “Paula?”
Paula: “You know…I think you’ve got a lot of heart, but I’m just not sure if you’re right for this country right now. Keep practicing though.”
Simon: “Okay then. Thanks for coming in. Are we going to get any real nominees in here today?”
Meanwhile, back here in the States, we’re more concerned with things like gay cowboys and washed-up celebrity dance-offs. And did you hear that Reese Witherspoon was given the same dress to wear for this year’s Golden Globe Awards as Kirsten Dunst three years ago? Of course you did – it was big NEWS.
There’s bigger news out there. Like the president’s support for warrantless surveillance. Two years ago he said it was illegal and not something his administration supported. Now he’s saying it’s a necessary evil in the war on terror. What changed between then and now? He got caught doing it – that’s what changed. Privacy and freedom are being painted over one small presidential stroke at a time. But who can argue if it’s all in the name of home security?
“They that would give up essential liberty to purchase a little temporary safety, deserve neither liberty nor safety."
Contrary to popular belief, these words do not belong to Benji F. They were included in a book he helped publish, but Ben did not write them. That doesn't make them any less powerful or relevant, however. Our Commander in Chief is making sure he has absolute authority on all matters of security in order to be effective in the war on terror, when absoulte authority clearly conflicts with the ideals that make our country great. Consider Russia. They've always gone about things a little differently, censoring the media, spying on citizens, etc., and they've been no more successful combatting the Islamic Chechen rebels than we were at preventing a handful of religious zealots from thrusting a fiery blade into our gut and altering the course of history. Making us less free does not necessarily make us more safe.
If anything, it makes us more scared. Not only do we fear the terrorists, we come to distrust and resent the people we presume are protecting us from them.
But this is just one of many topics of discussion I'd suggest is more relevant to our lives than whose party Paris Hilton ended up at last weekend, as newsworthy as that is.
You know what else is news? There’s a man about to be confirmed for the Supreme Court who many believe will attempt to overturn Roe v. Wade. Democrats oppose the decidedly conservative Alito, while Republicans support him. Ho hum...what else is new? And because the Republicans are in control of Congress, Alito will be confirmed next Tuesday. Why is this news? Because this guy's his rulings, like all of the Supreme Court’s rulings, will have the power to change America - and, more importantly, your life. But never mind that – did you see American Idol this week? Yeah - that was some funny shit.
I wonder what those three would have to say about Alito.Randy: “You scare me, dude. I mean, all that stuff you talk and your record and stuff. Dog – I don’t know.”
Simon: “Paula?”
Paula: “I don’t know. I kinda like his look. It’s hip. The glasses are cute. And you seem like a genuine well-intended individual.”
Simon: “Paula, you’re being too kind. Listen to what he’s saying. He’s an absolute disaster of a nominee. Alito – you have zero judicial talent. You’re not even qualified to decide what to eat for lunch. I’ve heard enough. Randy what do you say?”
Randy: “Sorry dog. I’m just not feeling ya.”
Simon: “Paula?”
Paula: “You know…I think you’ve got a lot of heart, but I’m just not sure if you’re right for this country right now. Keep practicing though.”
Simon: “Okay then. Thanks for coming in. Are we going to get any real nominees in here today?”
Thursday, January 26, 2006
A PAIN IN THE ASTERISK
Are you fine with the fine print? I'm not. I'm in advertising - I love hiding shit in the fine print. Exclusions, limitations, and restrictions all live in the fine print. Dates and dollar amounts like to lurk down there as well. Unfortunately, the fine print is giving asterisks a bad name. Any time you see an asterisk or a little cross next to a word in sales copy you immediately assume a scam is afoot. It's just not fair to the asterisk, who is only trying to be helpful.
Let's consider rebates for a moment. I fucking hate rebates. HATE rebates. Hate hate hate hate hate hate rebates. Fucking just give me the damn thing at the sale price already instead of making me work to get money back. That's a load of camel crap. Yet you find rebates all over the fucking place - most often on high-ticket items like cars, cell phones, and computers. And it's no secret why - they're great for driving sales. Rebates from “factory incentives” to “manufacturer discounts” let retailers advertise their products at drastically reduced prices so people think they're getting a bargain. What you’re really getting is shafted at the register, then sucked into an abyss of dubious details and pointless paperwork.
"If this computer is advertised for $899, why do I have to give you $1099? Oh – I need to send in a rebate for $200? Okay, that’s fine. What do you mean I can’t do it until after I’ve registered the product online – that could take a while since I’m not wired for service yet. And when I finally am registered, I need what? A copy of the UPC code from the box, the original receipt, a shipping invoice, a copy of my birth certificate, updated credit report, my SAT verbal score, and a note from my mother? What the fuck. Keep the $200 – I’ve got a life to live here, you fucking bastards." Rebates fucking blow.
Look in the Sunday paper at all of the bargains “after rebate.” You can get cell phones and cable modems for FREE if you’re willing to take the rebate challenge. What’s the rebate challenge? The rebate challenge is the series of hoops you’ve got to jump through to get YOUR money back. And the hoops are made intentionally difficult - to promote what folks in the retail piracy industry call “breakage.”
That there's a name for it should tell you all you need to know.
Breakage is the term used to describe the failure of busy folks like you and me to apply and qualify for rebates. Most industry estimates put breakage rates at 40 fucking percent! Yes, rebates have become all the rage for the simple reason that people are lazy. We don’t like collecting and filling out paperwork and mailing stuff in. And the more time that expires after your purchase, or the lower the rebate amount, the less likely you are to respond to the rebate offer. So that extreme value you got on your notebook computer wasn’t really a bargain at all. Not if you threw away the box it came in. Not if you can’t find your receipt. Not if you failed to apply for your rebate before the expiration date. It's all in the fine print.
I don't know about you, but I can think of nothing more inviting than the thought of curling up on a Friday night in front of a raging fireplace with a hot cup of cocoa and a long-winded rebate form.
Did you know that 50,000 of TiVo’s 104,000 new subscribers never redeemed their mail-in rebate offers. That’s a jackpot for the genius who designed the offer. Here’s another note of caution for you. Rebate checks can take MONTHS to arrive. You need to stay diligent and check on the status of your rebate. Sometimes these companies will “forget” to send you your money. And when they do send it, it’s typically disguised as “junk” mail in the hope that you’ll discard it. The industry word for uncashed rebate checkes is “slippage.” Again, good to know that it happens so frequently there is a name for it. Not to mention mathematical models that calculate its projected profitability.
Geri just got a “free” modem for ordering Comcast high-speed Internet service. Her “free” modem cost $80. She can get that money back, however, if she responds to two separate rebate offers. As if one rebate wasn't going to be difficult enough. Each rebate has a separate form that needs to be completed...paperwork I imagine is immediately shredded upon receipt. The rebates also require copies of the purchase receipt and shipping invoice as proof of purchase. There’s a transaction order number that must be submitted. Each offer must be sent separately and the redemption forms are only available ONLINE. Remember - she’s getting a cable modem here, so she's not even set up to get online yet. Here’s the part I love. Not only does she need to download the forms off the website, but they also want proof that she has paid for a month's worth of Comcast Internet service. To prove this, she’s required to include a copy of every page of her first statement – which of course wouldn't arrive for a month after she ordered the service. Someone doesn't want Geri to get her money back.
Last night she got online to print out the rebate form and - lo and behold - it wasn’t available any longer! They’d replaced it with another rebate form for another offer with different qualification dates. All of this crap you have to go through to get fucking $80 back - $80 she shouldn’t have had to spend in the first place since the damn cable modem was advertised as fucking FREE!
It’s all in that little asterisk, my friends. I don’t know about you – but I am not fine with the fine print. Unfortunately, the only way we’ll ever get rid of rebate offers is to follow them through to completion. We have the power to reduce breakage so that it’s no longer profitable for companies to lure you in with deceptively low “final” prices. If the retailer wants to negotiate a deal with the manufacturer on their own time, I'm all for it. Leave me out of all that crap and just give me the damn sale price.
With all of this slipping and breaking, we're really not saving anything.
Let's consider rebates for a moment. I fucking hate rebates. HATE rebates. Hate hate hate hate hate hate rebates. Fucking just give me the damn thing at the sale price already instead of making me work to get money back. That's a load of camel crap. Yet you find rebates all over the fucking place - most often on high-ticket items like cars, cell phones, and computers. And it's no secret why - they're great for driving sales. Rebates from “factory incentives” to “manufacturer discounts” let retailers advertise their products at drastically reduced prices so people think they're getting a bargain. What you’re really getting is shafted at the register, then sucked into an abyss of dubious details and pointless paperwork.
"If this computer is advertised for $899, why do I have to give you $1099? Oh – I need to send in a rebate for $200? Okay, that’s fine. What do you mean I can’t do it until after I’ve registered the product online – that could take a while since I’m not wired for service yet. And when I finally am registered, I need what? A copy of the UPC code from the box, the original receipt, a shipping invoice, a copy of my birth certificate, updated credit report, my SAT verbal score, and a note from my mother? What the fuck. Keep the $200 – I’ve got a life to live here, you fucking bastards." Rebates fucking blow.
Look in the Sunday paper at all of the bargains “after rebate.” You can get cell phones and cable modems for FREE if you’re willing to take the rebate challenge. What’s the rebate challenge? The rebate challenge is the series of hoops you’ve got to jump through to get YOUR money back. And the hoops are made intentionally difficult - to promote what folks in the retail piracy industry call “breakage.”
That there's a name for it should tell you all you need to know.
Breakage is the term used to describe the failure of busy folks like you and me to apply and qualify for rebates. Most industry estimates put breakage rates at 40 fucking percent! Yes, rebates have become all the rage for the simple reason that people are lazy. We don’t like collecting and filling out paperwork and mailing stuff in. And the more time that expires after your purchase, or the lower the rebate amount, the less likely you are to respond to the rebate offer. So that extreme value you got on your notebook computer wasn’t really a bargain at all. Not if you threw away the box it came in. Not if you can’t find your receipt. Not if you failed to apply for your rebate before the expiration date. It's all in the fine print.
I don't know about you, but I can think of nothing more inviting than the thought of curling up on a Friday night in front of a raging fireplace with a hot cup of cocoa and a long-winded rebate form.Did you know that 50,000 of TiVo’s 104,000 new subscribers never redeemed their mail-in rebate offers. That’s a jackpot for the genius who designed the offer. Here’s another note of caution for you. Rebate checks can take MONTHS to arrive. You need to stay diligent and check on the status of your rebate. Sometimes these companies will “forget” to send you your money. And when they do send it, it’s typically disguised as “junk” mail in the hope that you’ll discard it. The industry word for uncashed rebate checkes is “slippage.” Again, good to know that it happens so frequently there is a name for it. Not to mention mathematical models that calculate its projected profitability.
Geri just got a “free” modem for ordering Comcast high-speed Internet service. Her “free” modem cost $80. She can get that money back, however, if she responds to two separate rebate offers. As if one rebate wasn't going to be difficult enough. Each rebate has a separate form that needs to be completed...paperwork I imagine is immediately shredded upon receipt. The rebates also require copies of the purchase receipt and shipping invoice as proof of purchase. There’s a transaction order number that must be submitted. Each offer must be sent separately and the redemption forms are only available ONLINE. Remember - she’s getting a cable modem here, so she's not even set up to get online yet. Here’s the part I love. Not only does she need to download the forms off the website, but they also want proof that she has paid for a month's worth of Comcast Internet service. To prove this, she’s required to include a copy of every page of her first statement – which of course wouldn't arrive for a month after she ordered the service. Someone doesn't want Geri to get her money back.
Last night she got online to print out the rebate form and - lo and behold - it wasn’t available any longer! They’d replaced it with another rebate form for another offer with different qualification dates. All of this crap you have to go through to get fucking $80 back - $80 she shouldn’t have had to spend in the first place since the damn cable modem was advertised as fucking FREE!
It’s all in that little asterisk, my friends. I don’t know about you – but I am not fine with the fine print. Unfortunately, the only way we’ll ever get rid of rebate offers is to follow them through to completion. We have the power to reduce breakage so that it’s no longer profitable for companies to lure you in with deceptively low “final” prices. If the retailer wants to negotiate a deal with the manufacturer on their own time, I'm all for it. Leave me out of all that crap and just give me the damn sale price.
With all of this slipping and breaking, we're really not saving anything.
HAMASIDE BOMBERS
According to officials, the Islamic militant group Hamas has won a landslide victory in the Palestinian parliamentary election. The forecast for Israel is continued bloodshed with frequent periods of suicide bombings. I think the UN should step in and take Israel away from both sides. If they can't play nicely together, they can't keep it. Maybe we can get Trump to invest and turn the holy land into a massive 1,000 hole golf course. Jerusalem Lakes Country Club. The Glen at Bethlehem. Palestine's Par Three. Putt Putt's Dead Sea Mini G.
Wednesday, January 25, 2006
I REPEAT
I just found out that when people use the phrase, "You can say that again," they don't actually want you to say whatever it was over again.
I wish someone had told me this a long time ago. And here I thought people were calling me "Short Bus" because of my height.
I wish someone had told me this a long time ago. And here I thought people were calling me "Short Bus" because of my height.
Tuesday, January 24, 2006
CRASH!
Here's something I bet you didn't know. The collision capital of the world is Port Moresby, Papua New Guinea. Believe it or not, more cars are wrecked there per capita than anywhere else on the planet. It's so bad, most folks don't bother performing any routine maintenance on their cars because most cars don't last longer than a year!
SMELLY FARTADO
I’m like a turd – I wanna float away
I don’t know where my bowl is
I don’t know where my throne is
I’m like a turd – I’m gonna float away
I don’t know where my bowl is
I don’t know where my throne is
I don’t know where my bowl is
I don’t know where my throne is
I’m like a turd – I’m gonna float away
I don’t know where my bowl is
I don’t know where my throne is
THINGS I WONDER
Why are left-handed folks called Southpaws? Shouldn't it be Westpaw or Eastpaw? Are right-handed people considered Northpaws? Maybe Southpaw is supposed to be a polite way to say "the other hand," since we wouldn't want to say folks are either right-handed or wrong-handed. There's just something about using the word Southpaw to describe lefties that doesn't work for me. Southpaw sounds like a guy who's always got his hand down his pants...which I guess would make me a southpaw. I think that would make all guys southpaws, since hand-in-lap-nesting is a genetically encoded trait common to all men.
I don't know. Maybe it's time we rethink the "southpaw" misnomer.
I don't know. Maybe it's time we rethink the "southpaw" misnomer.
Monday, January 23, 2006
SPOILED CHILDREN BECOME ROTTEN ADULTS
Sometimes you gotta be firm. Thanks to Karen & Randy for this inspiring pic!
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