Thursday, October 28, 2010

it's not nice to be nice




The other day I was at the post office arguing with the clerk about paying duty for Swedish pornography when all of a sudden the guy standing beside me coughed really loud and I said, “Bless you.”
He said, “I didn’t sneeze.”
I replied, “Sorry?”
And then he said, “I didn’t sneeze. I coughed. You don’t say “Bless you” to someone because they cough.”
So I said, “Maybe I was just saying “Bless you” because I wanted you to be blessed. Dink."

OK, the truth of the matter is, I thought he sneezed. But the lesson learned is that it doesn’t pay to be nice to people. It doesn’t even pay minimum wage, so why bother? I went away from that encounter an enlightened man. I would no longer be nice to anyone at any time.

You may think that is a terrible way to live, not being nice to anyone at any time. That’s where you’re wrong and you’re probably an idiot too. See what I mean? It’s cool not to be nice. The burden of societal mores was lifted from my handsome shoulders. I could go through life not giving a fig (I’ve never owned a fig but if I did manage to get my hands on a fig, you can bet I wouldn’t give it away. And who would want it anyway? “Here, have a fig.” That’s a good way to get socked in the nose. Isn’t a fig a fruit or something? It’s in Fig Newton’s but that’s it, you never hear about figs in any other context aside from the one I just mentioned. Makes you wonder about figs, doesn’t it? Figs: the red headed stepchild of the fruit family.)

Anywho… I thought about all the times that I’d been nice when I didn’t want to be and thought, “Boy, it would have been swell to not have been nice to that jerkwad.” Just imagine how great it was when I was on the crowded bus, enjoying my bench seat all to myself when this little old lady stood there looking at me with sad, pleading eyes and I said, “You can shuffle those rickety old bones on down the aisle, because I’m not giving up my seat.” HAHAHAHAHA! K, that never happened. I never ride the bus.

Being nice is for suckers. The old saying, “Nice guys finish last, or somewhere around the middle of the pack, probably not first, unless the nice guy is really fast” has never been more true. Nice sucks. Also honesty. Honesty is a terrible policy. If someone asks you, “Does this dress make me look fat?” You should never say, “Dude, why are you wearing a dress?” Because then that transvestite will be heart broken. So obviously being nice and being honest are mutually exclusive. Pick one or the other. Unless the guy wearing a dress doesn’t look fat at all but really good and you tell him so and you’ve already paid the $100.00 bucks and then you get the shock of your life when his package leaps out at you like a crazy jack-in-the-box and you end up screaming and running for your life down some God forsaken alley swearing that you’ll never ever… hold on… that never happened either. Seriously. I honestly never ride the bus either. While I’m being forthright I might as well add that I would never deny an old lady a seat. If you tried something like that, they’d whack you with their cane. Old ladies on the bus… man, don’t mess with them. Anyway, hurry up and read my concluding paragraph which sums up this whole mess nicely:

The moral of this story is that being nice is way over rated and honesty is a dish best served cold. Revenge on the other hand, is just plain good sense.

Wednesday, October 27, 2010

Please support my sponsors you cheap bastards


Thank you for visiting my blog, please support my sponsors.

That’s what I would say if I had sponsors. Every webpage ever created needs sponsors because in case you didn’t know it, hot single women from YOUR town want to talk to YOU! Even if you’re married, ugly or even a heterosexual woman – they still want to talk to YOU! And even if you aren’t shopping around for a Russian bride (hot single Russian women want to marry YOU!) you should always support my sponsors. But like I said a few sentences ago, I don’t have any and this poses not only a problem, but a philosophical dilemma.

Like many of you, I draw many important life lessons from NASCAR. The most important of course is that there are corporations out there that will pay you good money to plaster your car with decals advertising their products. Those same kooky companies will pay famous athletes to appear in commercials, endorsing their products. Some companies will go a step further and pay you (you being the famous athlete) just to walk around wearing their product (if their product is something that you would wear). One of the greatest things about being a famous athlete is not only being beloved by strangers, but that you get a ton of free stuff and lots of money for using that free stuff. Sure, there is a downside to being a famous athlete (aside from being contractually obligated to say “um” twenty times in a sentence) and that is people will judge you mercilessly while at the same time adoring the very earth that you walk on. If you become a corporate shill, people will call you a “sell out” (while simultaneously worshipping you) but don’t fret, because you can always dry your tears with stacks of twenty dollar bills.

The point of all this (in case you were looking for one) is that even though I’m not a famous athlete, my goal is to be a corporate sell out. I’m willing to put aside my staunch ethics and bohemian nature in order to make a few bucks. Like, if BMW wants someone to drive around in their product, extolling the virtues of that product, I would be willing to accept their product in exchange for said services. I bet if people saw me driving a BMW they would say, “That’s a nice car!” and I would say, “Yes, you should go out and buy one”. Thus, earning the right to drive the car through an exchange of services. That’s how capitalism is supposed to work.

Of course after that, I would be willing to accept other sponsors’ offers by plastering their decals on my BMW. If the fine people who make M&M’s want me to put a big decal on the hood and maybe throw in some bags of M&M’s to “sweeten” the deal, I would be OK with that. I would happily put all kinds of sponsors on my BMW, enough so that the entire car would be covered in them, even the windshield! Then I would drive around blindly and crash into things – thus giving all my sponsors more coverage when the news helicopter follows me around and the reporter says things like, “We’ve got us another traffic jam caused by that BMW crashing into stuff. It’s the BMW with the big “Hooters” logo on the roof.”

I wouldn’t stop there. No sir (or ma’am)! I would cover my clothes in decals! I would wear name brand shoes, socks, pants, shirts, baseball caps all covered in corporate logos! (Just like we all do for free – what a bunch of suckers we are!) I would paste logos on the front of my house and put my dog in one of those awful doggie sweaters that demented dog owners buy for their hairless mutts that evolution would have made extinct if evolution and its buddies had anything to say about it. I mean come on, if that 3 lb rat-like dog had any pride it would commit suicide out of embarrassment by wearing a stupid sweater! If nature didn’t provide you with the basic covering to survive winter then you have no business being alive in Canada!

Wait, what was I talking about again? Oh yeah, I would make the dog wear one of those sweaters covered from nose to paw in advertising. Hell, why should famous athletes get all the free stuff and bags of money?! Attention Corporate Sponsors: I will tattoo your logos on my magnificent, blemish free skin! I would walk around as a living, breathing commercial for you!!!! If somebody stopped me in the street to ask me why my dog and I are covered in corporate logos, I would say, “Because I love these fine products and so should you.” Look, the bottom line is that I WILL sell out! I WILL lie, steal and cheat for you!!! I WILL be your whore!!!

I have no choice, since I have a hot young Russian bride to support.