Asses and Alligators Social Security Edition
Remember the good old days? Dad would go off to work and mom would hit the sherry?
Wait. Check that.
Dad would work and mom would stay home, take care of the kids, go shopping, do the laundry, clean house and make dinner. Dad would also grunt all over mom when he was in the mood.
I think they called this The Golden Age.
The point was: One spouse could have a single job that would provide for a middle class lifestyle, with enough earnings to allow the other spouse to not have to work. The job provided for health insurance benefits and a retirement.
Now, I do know what you youngins are saying. “That’s about as likely as rainbows flying out of a unicorn’s arse hole.” I am not shitting you. This sort of reality used to exist in our country. Of course, you guys are the first generation in the history of the United States to be worse off than your parents, so I certainly can understand a skosh of cynical skepticism.
Now you can have a married household where both parents work full time to earn a portion of the lifestyle that used to be achievable by a single wage earner. Worse, besides working twice as hard for less, they have to pay strangers to take care of their children, a little bonus stressor on the traditional family unit for which they get to pay top dollar.
Isn’t progress great? Or, in guru parlance, “Ouchies. Too much fucking change!”
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Singer/Songwriter Tom B. Taker
Oh yeah. Residuals. I now will feck you up with a spirited rendition of an a cappella performance piece I wrote while on vacation. And no, it wasn’t in Wyoming. That’s just an unfortunate naming coincidence.
I have to admit, this is one of the crappiest songs I’ve ever written.
Make the jump to view the video goodness. Enjoy!
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Assvertising
As seen on WeatherBug.com
I’m taking a quick blog-break at work so this will be brief. When I saw this steaming pile of horse shit on my screen, I knew I just had to share.
Hey, asshole advertisers! I have a question. Where is that line in the sand you are not willing to cross in order to sacrifice my eyeballs in exchange for profits?
I guess images that have the remotest theoretical relevance to your pitch went the way of the dodo, eh? Now the game is played dead or alive, whatever it takes, no holds barred. Make the kill on those eyeballs using whatever force necessary. Those are the rules of engagement.
My fertile brain can’t help but wonder: What’s next? Images of white mice in microwaves exploding in a gory mess of blood and intestines from the inside out? That might be eye-catching, too.
How about a little movie of someone pulling down their pants, squatting, and taking a dump on an animation of dancing pink elephant? Whatever it takes, right?
Where, oh where, is that line in the sand? Do you have any limits?
Shame on you, WeatherBug.com (in this particular case) for sucking on the teat of these assholes. When the advertising gets too egregious, you leave the humble consumer little choice. I’m blocking your piece of shit website – forever. It’s not like I have limited choices for finding weather on the internets.
Oh yeah, and by the way, if you resort to deceptive and nefarious tactics like this simply to get my attention, how in the name of holy hell do you ever expect me to trust enough to do business with you? I wouldn’t trust you if my life depended on it. I can see you right now, all greasy and shit, in your bathrobe and in a cloud of smoke, sitting in your little boiler room in God-knows-what country lying to people on the phone all day long.
Yeah, I don’t think so.
Shouts from the Abyss 
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