Comic: Philosophy 101
It’s hard to believe I drew this all by myself, eh?
Hey, Gorgeous. You’re Beautiful!
Somebody asked to see me? That really makes my mustard a go-go.
Ah, the online world of the internets. A place of unspeakable and (almost) unimaginable evil.
It’s a land where 14-year-old children use the latest and greatest state-of-the-art technology to play mind games in the hopes their contemporaries will – quite literally – kill themselves. It quickly goes downhill from there.
Need a place to post your latest rape video? Check. The internet has got your back.
I’m deliberately leaving out the really nasty stuff. In short, technology lead to a life of ease with record leisure time which we promptly filled up with shitty behavior towards each other. Welcome to the Shit Age, the unpredicted successor to the Information Age.
On the bright side, though, there can be positive, fun moments, too. Like when you create your online persona, upload a real picture of yourself, then some stranger says, “Holy fuck, you are one hot bitch!” and emails you a picture of his penis. (Or so I’ve heard. I’ve never personally experienced that form of an internet “compliment.”)
Ah, internet. I see what you did there. You even ruined the so-called nice stuff. Well played.
In a place like this, a compliment on your avatar might seem like a refreshing change of pace. It might feel like a beacon of light in a sewer-sludge trash compactor of darkness and evil.
But is it really?
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That’s Rich!
Last week my wife and I were watching CBS Sunday Morning. Mo Rocca (resplendent with fedora) was interviewing immensely rich lady, Eileen Rockefeller.
“How much money do you have?” Rocca interviewed fiercely. He wasn’t about to give in and hobnob. He was there to ask the tough questions.
“I have no idea,” Rockefeller answered. “I don’t even count.”
#Orly!!!
That’s supposed to indicate to us underlings how little she actually cares about wealth? Naturally, by this point, I was rolling around my chair expleting shoutatives. I was attempting to injure myself. Because I can afford that.
Saying you have so much money you don’t even bother to count it is supposed to somehow demonstrate how little you actually care about money?
I’ve never had so much money that I had the luxury of not counting it.
Stand back. I think I’m about to blow!
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Chained Melody: Proletariat Steak
Please click the image to visit the artist’s website. Source: Ted Rall’s Rallblog.
I Will Always Shove You
You may have noticed I'm mostly green. Well, Fuck You!
Those of us in the airlock/apologizing industry noticed an unusual blip on the radar this week shortly after the death of Whitney Houston. The epicenter was traced and determined to be sourced in Minato (Tokyo), Japan.
Ah, Sony! What have you done this time?
A lot of you may be under the impression that Sony makes overpriced electronics that break shortly after their warranty period. Yes, that’s true, but that’s only a small fraction of what they do.
MINATO, TOKYO, JAPAN — The motto, “Be Prepared,” is one famously associated with the Boy Scouts movement. It also encapsulates the thought that you should be ready to “do the right thing at the right moment.”
It’s a philosphy shared by Sony Music Entertainment (SME) company and their secretive elite unit known as the Death Immediate Response Team (DIRT). When a big name celebrity in the Sony music library dies, that’s when the deceased is designated a “featured artist” and the members of Team DIRT leap into action.
In order to be prepared, SME-DIRT has identified their artists who have achieved sufficient sales volume. They have then compiled detailed “death response plans” on those they artists they have identified as meeting their proprietary criteria selection scheme.
Whitney Houston was one of these artists. Her death on February 11, 2012, came as a surprise to most. But as the news spread like wildfire across the internet, plans were already afoot in Minato. Like most death response plans SME-DIRT has on file, there is a three-pronged approach:
- Have an office party complete with cake (in the likeness of the artist) and ice cream and party hats. During this symbolic process they literally eat their artist.
- Immediately jack wholesale prices on albums in the library.
- Summon high-level Sony executives to a summit in New York City to discuss strategy to capitalize on the artist’s death.
Within hours of Whitney Houston’s death, a faceless operative on a nameless Tokyo street walked away from his noodles, pulling an Xperia ™ Ion LTE (Long Term Evolution) smartphone from his coat pocket, dialed a number from memory, waited three seconds, said, “Operation Bodyguard. Initiate. This is not a drill.” He then faded away as he side-stepped into street level sewer fog and disappeared into the noises of the murky city at night.
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Shouts from the Abyss 
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