The Devil's Pen Pal

November 19, 2010

Blank Sabbath

Filed under: Uncategorized — admin @ 5:32 pm

I don’t understand proselytizing atheists. By being an atheist, you’ve freed yourself up an hour or so a week. Why throw that time away on something as equally pointless?

November 18, 2010

Crisis of Infinite Opportunism

Filed under: Uncategorized — admin @ 8:41 am

“Crisis” and “opportunity” don’t really have the same Chinese character, but, for a consultant, they’re pretty much the same thing half of the time.

October 31, 2010

Dress for Success

Filed under: Uncategorized — admin @ 7:41 am

There are two types of Halloween costumes that are socially acceptable for grown men to wear year-round: cowboy, and professional athlete.

There are no cowboys. There are men in cowboy hats and pointy footwear. Cowboys were made obsolete by barbed wire. If a job was made obsolete by an object that doesn’t even move, it’s time to stop romanticizing it. Ah, the days of human footstools. What a simpler era.

I don’t understand our nation’s romance with the cowboy. As kids we played cowboys and indians, but let’s face it, the cavalry fought the indians. The cowboys herded cows. I grew up in Wisconsin, and cows are no big deal. They’re big and stupid. Compared to sheep, they are stubborn, but they’re still herbivores, and you can kill one right next to another one, and the other one won’t even have a fight or flight reaction. Sure, the bulls can be a ton of stupidity and belligerance, but they’re not predators. They won’t eat you. Taking care of cattle is a chore that can be entrusted to children. Hence the “boy” in “cowboy.”

We’ve even had men get elected president based partly on their ability to play cowboy. They call their house and yard a ranch. Yeah, like Reagan or Bush’s livelihood depended on their “ranch.” It’s like Paul McCartney’s “farm.” They’re petting zoos. Funny, now what George W. is no longer president, he doesn’t hang out at the ranch anymore. Nope, off to Dallas. Breaks my heart. It’s like finding out the other guys in the Village People weren’t really cops or construction workers. Can we just have presidents from now on and have some other guy who gets to play dress-up and let us pretend our enemies are scared of us because we have a cowboy with his finger on the button? Because this “Lethal Weapon” “look out, he’s crazy! we don’t know what he might do!” stuff doesn’t really work with dictators who have to purge their own families. Really, if you had to have your own brother-in-law strung up with piano wire just to set an example, you’re probably not all that scared of some WASP who can do a John Wayne impression.

When leftists mocked Reagan with “Mama, don’t let your cowboys up to be president” stickers and t-shirts, they were missing the point. A lot of Americans LIKE cowboys, or at least their idea of them. Reagan WASN’T a cowboy. He was an actor, a shill for GE, and a politician. None of those professions are known for straight-shootin’.

The whole dressing up like an athlete stuff makes me scratch my head, too. I’m sure the guy on the actual team is very flattered that you wear his number on your jersey, too. Just admit what it is, a crush. I do not understand following a professional sports team. It’s like giving a rip between Jif and Skippy if you don’t own stock in either company.

I don’t understand why people want their cities to finance stadiums. Wouldn’t you rather have a factory? Stadium jobs are some of the crappiest jobs there are, and the hours aren’t even reliable. Do you want to swab around p1ss troughs after a thousand drunks try to take a leak all in the same 5 minutes? Apart from a few teams such as the Packers, these teams have no loyalty to you or your town. They’ll blackmail your town and then change their name to the fill-in-the-city fill-in-the-animal-or-other-nonsensical name. About the only thing I like about most sports is the newspaper headlines, because sometimes they evoke whimsical images of some animal killing some ethnic group.

Men wearing hats indoors, you are not fooling anyone. You’re bald, or you think you’re one of the common man. Nobody wears a tophat any more. They wear ballcaps or seed caps or some other kind of attempt to make you fit in with the common dickweed. If you wear a baseball cap backwards, it had better be for catching something. Otherwise, what’s the point of having a brim? Match these people up with the people who wear the visors without the rest of the hat. Between the two of them, they’ll have a hat.

Berets are the stupidest hats, and they’re either warn by cartoon bohemian artistes, or given out by the military as if they were the exact opposite. Congratulations, you are now part of an elite corps of twits who hang out in French cafes in 1950s movies. Your battle hymn will be played on a concertina.

There used to be just the green berets, who we knew were tough because their leader was John Wayne, who spent World War II making movies instead of fighting with live ammunition like some pussy. Then the army decided to go even farther with their Army of One ridiculousness by giving each soldier a black beret. Ooohhh. Great, a hat that gives no warmth, grants no shade, doesn’t cover your ears, and will fall off with the slightest breeze. They might as well make them balance a book on their head. Do they give medals out for poise?

October 30, 2010

Mr. Know-It-All

Filed under: Uncategorized — admin @ 2:33 pm

Ae sure sign of a Cliff Clavin is that if anyone mentions drinking water on a hot day after exercise, the Clavin will warn of the dangers of water intoxication, as if we are all one sip away from completely depleting ourselves of electrolytes. You’d think every bottle of water would have a Mr. Yuk sticker on it, and the guy who invented Gatorade should’ve won a Nobel Prize in medicine.

Pretty much the only people who die of that are rookie athletes and radio contestants. Somehow whole countries full of people living in deserts with the occasional oasis manage to avoid this fate.

Chick Lit

Filed under: Uncategorized — admin @ 12:30 pm

In honor of Halloween tomorrow, a very special Mr. Wifty’s.

October 27, 2010

Doctor, doctor . . .

Filed under: Uncategorized — admin @ 3:34 am

One of the dumbest cliches of pop music is when someone goes to the doctor, and the doctor tells them that the feeling they’re feeling is . . . love! No. People don’t go to the doctor because they have a bad case of loving-yous. They go because it hurts when they pee.

October 26, 2010

Not a bell jar, but a bottle

Filed under: Uncategorized — admin @ 8:04 pm

If there is a purpose to mankind’s life on earth, I suspect it is this: We are like yeast in a bottle, consuming all we can until we are poisoned by our own waste. Once that is done, whoever put us here — God, aliens, or the all-powerful None of the Above — will consume our intoxicating remnants.

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