Hyper Transit Widget Spheroid Solids was a corporation operating in the great state of [withheld] that produced hyperbolic-related widgets. There was a certain segment of our population (dorks) that was thirsty for these widgets and the company did well.
The product was theoretically tightly regulated by the government’s Department Of Hyperbole (DOH) which maintained and enforced a complex set of legislation designed to protect public safety.
One of the selling points of the widgets is that they were the “shiniest DOH-approved widgets” available anywhere in the whole wide world.
It was true that they were indeed the shiniest widgets. There was no doubt about that. And based on that fact, the Hyper transit widgets sold like hotcakes.
The was one minor troubling nit of a detail, though. The widgets were never DOH approved. Not meeting government criteria went a long way in making it easier to make their widgets shiny. Other widget manufacturers made products that were less shiny because they were hindered by the fact they actually obeyed the law.
Widget-hungry consumers, if they had bothered to look, would find an online database of many widget violations and disciplinary actions taken by DOH.
The corporation just keep making and selling the widgets and playing games with the government. They were able to get away with it for an amazingly long time. It’s not like public safety was involved.
Then, one day, something happened. Hyper Transit Widget Spheroid Solids dissolved and ceased to be a corporation. Yeah! A blow was struck for truth, justice and the American way.
It didn’t last long, though. The very next day a new corporation set up shop at the exact same address. It was called Blongorgic Transit Widget Spheroid Solids and, amazingly, made the very same products.
Of course the two corporations had absolutely nothing do with each other. Legally they were two different and totally distinct entities. They did happen to have the same person who controlled 100% of the shares, though. Odd coincidence, that.
Now if you excuse me, I need to go buy a transit widget spheroid solid. Nice knowin’ ya!
It turns out that the human stomach isn’t that discriminating. It’s a go-with-the-flow kind of hipster dufus (probably wearing a fedora) who blindly trusts decisions made by the brain and mouth. Ha ha ha! Like they give a shit about downstream organs!
Tom’s Law #42
As one becomes less involved in the production and preparing of one’s own food, the odds of unwanted contaminants, unknown ingredients, lessened nutrition, deception and malice are exponentially increased.
Chew on that!
For example, the average fast food patron eats an average of 12 public hairs per year. And probably in a public place! Some things are meant to be handled in pubic.
Continue reading →
This story is the fifth and final installment themed “Tiny Tim” in a five-part series of 200-word stories for BlogFestivus, A Christmas Carol. Check out the links (at the bottom of this post) to all the participating “ghost” writers for this year’s challenge. We’re spanking the candy cane now. -BD
At the end of the room loomed a high-backed chair facing a large round window. The smell of mistletoe hung in the air. An end table was nearby upon which sat a glass of eggnog and a bouquet of red and white tulips.
Ominous symphonic music began to fill the air as the chair imperceptibly swiveled. It took a long time, but the occupant, finally, was revealed. He lounged, his wee feet extending just beyond the seat, his arms extended and resting on the arms of the chair. Atop a tiny head a festive pork pie hat had been donned.
“You!” shouted Scrooge.
“Yes, me. My production facility is state of the art. Candy canes are running at full capacity. Fruitcakes are ramping up and will soon be the perfect method for delivering your product. You’re out, Scrooge. Out!”
“Wait,” Scrooge stammered. “Dammit, Tim, wait!”
“Give me one good reason why.”
“I’m your father.”
Scrooge, sensing a momentary advantage, tiptoed carefully. “My company has developed the black armor. I can still be of value to you.”
“Then, together, we shall rule the galaxy as father and son!”
Click on the links below for more takes on A Christmas Carol from our other BlogFestivus bloggers:
Linda penning at linda vernon humor
Steve from Stevil
Maria-Christina blogging at MCWhispers
Dylan of Treatment of Visions
Sarah from Parent Your Business
Dawn blogging at Lingering Visions
K8edid from k8edid
Dave bringing it at 1pointperspective
Eileen from Not The Sword But The Pen
Lindsey at RewindRevise
Kandy of Kandy Talk
Sandra writing at In Love With Words
Natalie from So I Went Undercover
Jen at Blog It or Lose It
Amelie from In the Barberry
Cee Cee blogging at Cee Cee’s Blog
Ashley from LittleWonder2
BD writing Blogdramedy
I am proud to be an American.
Whoa! What the fuck was that? And, more importantly, who’s going to help me change my diaper?
So let me get this straight. You love America, too. And to prove it you’re going to make something go boom boom. Do you mind if I get some background information? Are you the same guy from elementary school who got paper towels wet and threw them into ceiling lights until they blew up? Are you the one who was so fascinated with fire that he set his junior high school locker ablaze? Do you think shooting a gun up in the air is good clean fun? No, no, don’t tell me. Let me guess. All the same guy, right?
Just in case you doubt my cred to discuss this topic, please know that one time I visited the game store where
my son the gerbil liked to hang out. Staff regaled with me with stories of my son’s exploits in the back parking lot shooting bottle rockets using his ass as the launch platform. So I think I’m qualified!
In 2012, 60-percent of the year’s fireworks injuries occurred between June 22nd and July 22nd, sending an average of 200 people per day to the hospital. … All six fireworks-related deaths that happened last year involved illegal or homemade fireworks.
–Source: All the Amazing Facts About Your Fireworks Injury (Gizmodo)
Fireworks are a product. I know for a fact that those who make them have a profit motive. What I secretly suspect, however, is that they also hate America and are out to conquer us one body part at a time. Yes, it’s a theory, but it fits the available facts, dammit!
There’s no such thing as a zero error rate in the manufacture of products. Stay with me here. I’m building a logical proof piece by piece (if you’ll pardon the expression). That means some percentage of fireworks legally sold in this country are inherently flawed. Use of those products is, therefore, a calculated risk. Fuck that. I’ll stick with the craps table. I deem that to be an acceptable level of risk, but hey, that’s how I roll. Your mileage may vary.
Some, like me, might argue further that just the existence of the product is an intentional design flaw, but I won’t go there.
I’ll just say, like I am often wont to do, “What could possibly go wrong?” Life is dangerous enough. Why do we deliberately go out of our way to do nonsensical things that have no logical purpose that increase the odds against us? That makes absolutely no sense to me.
At ease, people. Blow ’em up if you got ’em.
BTW, the fireworks we give to youngsters make a lot more sense. Sparklers. So pretty. And what are they? Pieces of metal burning at temperatures up to 2,000 degrees or about as hot as a blow torch.
What could possibly go wrong? (Oops. There I go again.) I can’t understand how sparklers are responsible for 12 percent of reported fireworks-related injuries.
When I get bigger everyone is happy. When I shrink everyone is sad. But what am I?
On so-called “Cyber Monday” yesterday internet purchases were up 27% from the year before. This is because consumers have higher confidence in me. Feels good! Yes, I need that sort of validation. I get off on you getting off on me.
Everyone say it with me now: Awwwwwwwww!
Poor, poor Hollywood.
Hollywood is feeling sad because the summer of 2011 had the lowest movie attendance since 1997. That’s so sad. So all you peeps in the industry only made thousands of times my yearly salary? Wow. I feel for you. Truly!
Because I am a benevolent guru, I’m willing to take a few previous moments out of my day to offer a little advice that just might help you out of your doldrums. Even though I know never in a million years will you listen or follow this advice. You’d rather die first, right?
The solution is simple. Make the movie going experience more fun than licking all the urinals in town.
The problem is simple. Your product is defective. Seriously. Who the fuck wants to go to a theater and sit with a bunch of rude and disgusting assholes?
Hey, I’m serious. Not once in my life has a movie theater ever given half a shit about my “experience.” Not once!
Not once have I ever seen a movie theater eject people for talking. For answering cell phone calls during the movie. (Even during United 93.) Or for any reason.
Never have I seen anyone ejected. Ever. The fact of the matter is this: Movie theaters have no system for proactively protecting the experience. Actually, I find that a bit mind boggling because that experience is their product.
In the world of business there is sometimes a principle which holds true: Don’t give a shit about your product and your bottom line just may be affected.
Fix that and maybe more people will decide to try your product again. Until then, fuck it. We’re willing to wait and watch at home.
Fix your product and they will come. I’m mostly talking to the theater chains here, but I’m also talking directly to Hollywood. They’re nitpicky about all sorts of other things, I think they should give a shit about their end users, too. They should team up with the chains to improve things. It is only to their own benefit. The reality is simple: If people find it too unpleasant to go to the movies they’ll eventually decide not to go, especially when faced with ever-growing exorbitant ticket prices.
Make going to movies fun again, dammit. Or shut yer bitching about declining attendance.