Ah, Europe. A place where they eat cigarettes like Halloween candy going out of style yet worry about every little nit when it comes to their food.
“Oui! Next week I may hack up a cancerous thing that used to be a lung but today I will live, dammit, live! The juices of life must be savored to the fullest! The one thing we must absolutely never allow is diphenylamine in our food, you damn foolishly greedy capitalistic yanks.”
I, for one, say thanks. Because, without the European Food Safety Authority banning this, that and the other thing, I wouldn’t be able to say things like: “Oh yeah? Well Kraft Macaroni & Cheese still contains two artificial dyes banned in Europe.” Chef Booyah la de Fuckin’ Dah!
Kraft Foods is an American food company that was owned by a tobacco company until recently when they jury rigged the corporate legalese by rebranding Philip Morris as Altria Inc. and allegedly, in 2007, successfully underwent a Siamese twins separation operation, at least theoretically on paper. That’s because Kraft wants you to know they care about what you put in your body. Kraft Kares ™.
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- Jungle Booty, one pound bag: $12.00
- Oils Well That Grounds Well, one pound bag: $9.00
Recommendation: Oils Well is the better value.
- Orbital Scapes, 1 pound bag: $12.00
- Organic Animal Poops, 12 ounce bag: $12.00
- Rainforest Tops, 250 grams bag: $12.00
Note: 250 grams equates to approx. 8.81849 ounces. Oh, look! They found another way to say “smaller than 12 ounces.” How very clever.
Ah, this scenario is a bit more tricky. Which is the best value? We better calculate to a standardized unit of measurement like Price Per Pound (PPP). Some retailers are now using a new common unit of measurement (called “the bag”) that they hope you will swallow hook, line and sinker.
Table of Standardized Prices
Orbital Scapes: $12.00 per pound
Organic Animal Poops: $16.00 per pound
Rainforest Canopy: $21.77 per pound (translates loosely as “fuck you”)
Recommendation: Avoid all coffee sold using metric measurements. Evar!
This post is proudly sponsored by Nomsatan. It’s what’s in your belly!
I need the life version of an epidural because I am decidedly suffering from intense labor pains.
For most Americans (at least those not in the burgeoning service industry) Labor Day is traditionally recognized as a day of respite from toil. That means a lot of Americans get the day off. For some, the day represents the unofficial end of summer. For others it represents the start of something new, like the NFL season.
For others, however, the day is just like any other. A lot of people with service industry jobs will still be out there working. That’s probably a lot of people since these days the service sector accounts for the majority of American jobs. Less and less we actually make stuff in the good ol’ USA and more and more we are all out servicing each other. So to speak.
Personally I look forward to the day when we all work from home and no one ever goes anywhere. All the cities will be ghost towns and our highways will be empty. It’ll be a dream come true. Of course there will be no water, food, clothing, electricity, housing, toilet paper and other essentials like electronics unless they are imported, presumably by some sort of transporter technology. All the truck drivers will be working service jobs, too.
Speaking of dreams, yours truly decidedly does not have one when it comes to Labor Day. I’ll merely be experiencing additional labor pains as I schlep my useless carcass down to my dead-end job. Technically I’m not in the “service sector” as my job is theoretically technical. But in practice the technical duties I perform are the smallest slice of the pie chart that represents my day. Bigger slices on that graph are consumed by providing “customer service” on the phone (since it is imperative that every call be answered even if only by a miserable idiot like me who can only respond “I don’t know” all day long) and retail sales on the floor.
My wife has Labor Day off but I won’t be spending the day with her. For her sake I hope she has a backup lover to keep her occupied.
If you want the real history of Labor Day, check out Wikipedia. I just did and learned a few new things. If you are like me and working at a job you hate tomorrow, consider it a temporary distraction from your misery.
For me, Labor Day seems like a good time as any to consider my current situation in life. I’ll just go ahead and keep those ponderings to myself. I won’t bore you with the details but suffice it to say it’s not good.
Today’s Los Angeles Times brings us a bit of interesting news: Some economists are now predicting that even if our economy bounces back the unemployment rate is not expected to do the same. They are saying it might be years or even decades before our labor market recovers after (hopefully) our economy rebounds.
One thing seems certain: As less of us have jobs and unemployment benefits dry up, there is going be a shortage of another valuable resource that is sometimes a wee bit beneficial to economies. Consumers with disposable money are a fairly vital ingredient to keeping other people in jobs making stuff and providing services. As less of us are able to spend I personally look forward to seeing what might happen. It should be a lot of fun. I’m stocking up on popcorn.
In the meantime it looks like there just might be a lot more boot licking in my future. But that’s all in a day’s work when one finds himself In the service of the King.
What on Earth could possibly be more exciting that getting cash back??? ZOMG! Where do I sign up. Please hurry. I can’t wait!!!
Some people spell it “cash back.” Some others spell it “cashback.” No matter how you spell it, who gives a shit?
We get bombarded by this sort of marketing “logic” on a daily basis:
5% cash back credit cards!
Cash back coupons!
Cash back offer!
Top 5 Cash Back Cards!
Start Making Money!
Cash Back Rewards!
The list of this sort of thing is quite long. Obviously this sort of ploy works well on the weak-minded. Much like a Jedi mind trick, I assume. I mean, it must be effective, right? Why else would they keep doing it?
We critical thinkers, though, we know better. We know the piece of magic that powers this logic, that same piece of magic they that so conveniently neglect to point out when they are yelling about cold hard cash.
Step One: You Give Us Your Money!
In the name of fairness I went ahead and included the exclamation point there. Somehow if the ads screamed something like that we’d be less than thrilled, right?
Step Two: At some point in the future if we feel like it we may give you some of your own money back.
Seriously. I fail to see the attraction here. I don’t get it. Maybe someone out there can ‘splain it to me. If you can, I’ll be in your debt. (Heh!)
When you give someone your money, you are giving them the power to fuck you. It’s as simple as that.
Witness the simple “chip clip.” This amazing piece of technology is a bundle of plastic and a spring. What magic can it perform? It seals your partially consumed bag of deep fried greasy goodness.
Here’s how it works:
First, you buy the chip clip.
Next, get a back of chips. Eat some.
Then, while holding the bag, take the clip in your hand and squeeze. This is, in actuality, the only intended use of the chip clip. It is its sole purpose of existence.
Now, this is the important part. Only squeeze it enough to accomodate the bag of chips. This is the exact moment when the chip clip will break.
The chip clip is a product designed to break when you use it for the single purpose for which it was designed.
Remember, you gave them your money for this. Enjoy!