Tuesday, December 30, 2008
Do the pinheads that put out magazines think we're all so dense we couldn't possibly find a reply card unless there were 5 of them conveniently scattered among the articles?
But card overkill, with its implications of lamebrain simplicity, is not the only problem. I am emotionally unable to read a magazine without first ripping out all the cards.
Sometimes I worry that they'll fall into my lap and rattle my concentration. Other times I'm afraid of reading each card and never getting to the stories.
Naturally, after ripping out these annoying little inserts, I have to get up out of a chair and find a wastebasket to dump them into before I can relax and read the crap they've written.
Nobody ever said it was easy being neurotic.
FORWARD TO ANYONE WHO'S EVER READ A MAGAZINE.
Saturday, December 27, 2008
I've never understood why so many women are obsessed with dieting.
Even women with great figures are forever seeking that cadaverous, emaciated look so prized among fashion models. Maybe this explains why those bony beauties always look so pissed off – they're dying for a pizza with extra cheese.
I know the obesity problem is rampant today. But dieting isn't the answer, and living on salads is not a lifestyle you can live with for long.
Sure, women can lose 30 pounds in a month on Jenny Craig, Weight Watchers, or the Atkins Diet. But they can also gain back those 30 pounds the next month.
What about just eating sensibly, taking some long walks, and maybe going to the gym 3 days a week?
Less than a hundred years ago, thin women were considered sickly, undesirable, and poor marriage bets. In those days, famous artists like Rubens only painted well-fed nudes with oodles of flesh.
Back then, if you couldn't force down a slice of pecan pie, a few eclairs, some French pastry, and several brownies before posing -- you could forget about becoming a super model.
FORWARD THIS TO ANY WOMAN WHO DIETS.
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
Sitting in a room around a big table with a bunch of people who don't want to be there is just wrong.
Except for the top brass, do you know anybody who likes business meetings or thinks they serve a real purpose?
Any executive who runs a meeting usually has a specific agenda that won't change no matter what anybody says or how eloquently he states it.
"Boss, I think given the downturn in business last year, we should be looking into insurance, cosmetics, the expanding elderly market, and anything to do with funerals and death."
Jenkins, let's give that some consideration and then dismiss it entirely.
To save time, the clown in charge should abolish all meetings effective immediately. This will no doubt earn him or her a place in history, and possibly some kind of Business Humanitarian Award.
Taking a meeting could be replaced by management CCing a few key players and spelling out what they need to accomplish in the weeks or months ahead, and how best to achieve their goals.
This simple move would eliminate the ass kissing, the groveling, the posturing, the phony camaraderie, the rollicking laughter when the boss tells a dumb joke, and all the other bullshit that goes along with it.
But then, maybe I'm missing the point.
CC THIS TO THE KEY PLAYERS ON YOUR TEAM.
Sunday, December 21, 2008
I remember years ago when you could just open a plastic package and easily get whatever was inside. It was never a test of muscle or wits. But sadly, those days are over.
Now when you encounter your package, you better put on your game face and prepare for battle.
I'm not talking about ripping something apart with your bare hands. That would be a slight challenge and perfectly acceptable. I'm talking warfare, no holds barred, by whatever means necessary.
I have met some defiant packages lately that have forced me to attack them with scissors, pliers, a butcher knife, a razor blade, and my teeth.
I guess the worst are those clamshell packages that house stuff like cordless phones, popular dolls, toys, light bulbs, electric toothbrushes, radios, tools, and flashlights.
"To open," the directions should read, "simply use a chainsaw in an orderly manner until your product can be safely retrieved." I know one guy who ended up with ten stitches and a bloody flashlight.
Then there's the problem of returning a package to the store when it looks like it's been attacked by a Rottweiler.
SHARE THIS WITH ANYONE WHO'S EVER GOTTEN A PACKAGE.
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
You had to read this, didn't you? Couldn't wait to find out all the gory details. Later you'll let yourself off the hook by telling yourself you were just curious.
Relax, you're not alone. The fabric of society is practically threadbare. What is so titillating about the grisly and the grotesque? Why are we hooked on the misfortunes of others?
Newspapers around the country thrive on tragedy and calamity. In fact, the credo of many newspapers is, "If it bleeds, it leads." It's the same with radio and TV. We all know "Breaking News" is never pleasant, yet they can't wait to break it to us.
They tell us why a murderer, rapist, child molester, serial killer, or cannibalistic maniac commits a savage crime – and maybe throw in what this slimeball was like as a kid – and we eat it up like hot fudge on vanilla ice cream.
Why are we so curious about the creeps that prey upon us? And let's not blame a horrible gene pool or a lousy upbringing. I don't care if the men on his family tree were all ax murderers or spent their childhood tossing kittens and puppies off rooftops.
All we really need to know about a psycho is that he's blown up a skyscraper, slaughtered a trainload of people, shot up a college campus, has 35 shallow graves in his backyard, or ate all the relatives on his father's side.
The fact that he may have snapped one day during a surprise Latin quiz should have no bearing on how we judge him and hopefully convict the miserable, useless, rotten, no good sonofabitch.
AVOID SENDING THIS POST TO PSYCHOTIC FRIENDS.
Thursday, December 11, 2008
After lengthy consideration, I have decided that the jockstrap or athletic supporter is the oddest-looking contraption ever invented. It's got the pouch, the 2 straps on the side, and the bare tush hanging out blowing in the breeze.
The joker who thought this one up probably had something to do with the hand buzzer and the whoopie cushion.
I'm sure he still chuckles when he sees some jock wearing one.
If it's support for the crown jewels you're after, a snug pair of briefs will do the job and still leave your dignity intact. And briefs, unlike the pouch and straps embarrassment, won't give you "jock itch."
Speaking of questionable clothing apparel, what's the story with jeans for teenagers with the rips and tears in all the key places. I used to feel sorry for these teens --and even older folks who should know better-- until I realized they weren't poor, they were trendy.
What puzzles me is, how do you know when to throw out your jeans?
Let's not forget suspenders. Now there's a fashion statement. Oh sure, Larry King wears them. But that's an image thing and he's stuck with it. Besides, Larry is kind of an odd duck anyway. Some people—I'm guessing the severely insecure ones--even wear suspenders and belts.
Another thing that gets me scratching my head is neckties.
Yeah, I want something tight around my neck in an assortment of designs and colors that practically chokes me. Why have we all bought into this malarkey? Why can't proper business attire be cozy and comfortable?
Ties, my friend, are a cruel and useless appendage. You can't even wipe your mouth on them after dinner.
And don't get me started on tattoos that peak out provocatively from between butt cheeks. Or stretch and droop pathetically upon hitting a certain age.
FORWARD THIS TO FRIENDS WITH ISSUES.
Sunday, December 7, 2008
People over 60 shouldn't be allowed to show their elbows in public.
Yes, it may be harsh and judgmental. But listen to the rationale behind this discriminatory wrangle.
Is there an uglier part of the mature adult than the thoughtlessly exposed elbow? All puckered and wrinkled and brownish, it makes you want to avert your eyes, as from a car wreck on a major highway.
The average elbow is not a pretty sight even in its thirties and forties. But by the time it reaches sixty, it's the Quasimodo of the body.
I'm proposing that elbow shields should be made mandatory on your sixtieth birthday. That's right, make it a law. And I'm quite sure that whoever heads up the "Beautifying of America" Committee will agree with my seemingly ruthless edict.
WARNING: ALL 60-YEAR-OLDS NOT WEARING THEIR ELBOW SHIELDS WHILE WEARING A SHORT-SLEEVE SHIRT WILL BE SUBJECTED TO A FINE OF $1,000 OR TWO WEEKS OF COMMUNITY SERVICE.
FORWARD THIS POST TO FRIENDS OVER FORTY.
Thursday, December 4, 2008
Parents must be proud when a son or daughter is chosen to be a bobblehead doll.
To be listed among such luminaries as Elvis Presley, Donald Trump, John Gotti, Anna Nicole Smith, Mr. Potato Head, Homer Simpson, and a long list of athletes is not something to be taken lightly.
It wasn't so long ago that those who had achieved some level of recognition were written about, filmed, photographed, quoted, had their hands and feet imprinted in cement, or even had statues made in their honor.
Today your prominence is celebrated with a collectible bobblehead doll.
So unless your head gets oversized and connected to your body in such a way that tapping it lightly will cause it to wobble in an uncontrollable and amusing manner, you'll never have to wear dark glasses to avoid recognition.
If you're worried that you might never become famous, there are companies out there that will create a special bobble head for you, a loved one, or a favorite pet.
SHARE THIS POST WITH BOBBLEHEAD PROSPECTS.
Monday, December 1, 2008
There's something very creepy going on in wheelchair advertising.
The advertisers are making it sound like it's not so bad, maybe even kind of fun, to be permanently confined to one place with a bad view. The ads tell you to reclaim your independence and start an exciting new life.
I guess it's good to be hopeful – glass half full and all that – but remember you're still being restricted to a seat and wheels on a regular basis.
It was only a few weeks ago that I began noticing this chilling trend with wheelchair names. They conveyed a surprisingly sunny outlook. Introducing the new Jazzy Electric, Cross Fire, Tilt and Quickie!
They had features such as anti-tip bars, drink holders, and the ability to drive backwards, sideways and diagonally.
Some of the more exuberant models allow for "wheelies" while the copy invites you to participate in sports such as basketball and competitive racing.
Today's upbeat wheelchair is not for everybody (a phrase highly recommended by the agency's lawyers). But if you have the can-do spirit, it might be just what you're looking for. Here's what they really meant but couldn't say.
The horrible freak accident that dumped you off the ski lift and onto the large jagged rock might be a blessing in disguise – thanks to (Wheelchair Name Goes Here).
REAL FRIENDS WOULD SEND THIS POST TO OTHER FRIENDS.