Advertising was once a way for companies to educate consumers about their products. That was a long, long time ago. So long ago, in fact, that anyone who remembers that kind of advertising is long dead, or already frozen for future reanimation.

Over time, advertising has morphed into a sad form of desperate propaganda. Here's an example of the idiocy I'm referring to:

Economic Downturn, We Hardly Knew Ye.

You promised more about why you think the economic tsunami was really making the world a better place. And then you never got around to it. Now the talking heads are saying that our economic troubles may be bottoming out.

Job losses are slowing, but not stopping. Banks are now managing to turn a profit off of all the free money we gave them. Housing prices have leveled off to a point that may actually reflect what a house is actually worth, so people are almost willing to shackle themselves to a mortgage again.

Hurray. Happy days.

And, once again, you are late to the party.

It's kind of silly for you to blog about how much you're enjoying the economic downturn if the downturn is done turning down.

***

You're going to miss seeing pathetic, sun-faded "for sale" signs in the windows of parked SUV's.

"Priced below blue book." Duh. The only thing more pathetic is the douchebag down the street actually asking blue book.

"First reasonable offer drives it away." Does that mean you've accepted your backwards loan payment as a life lesson, or are you just flirting with reality?

And your favorite: "Downsizing. My loss is your gain." No shit? Why not just put a sign out by the street that says, "Are you stupider than me, and do you have cash? Please apply inside to take on my burden for a reasonable fee."

***

You're going to miss motivational musings like: "I don't have to go to work. I get to go to work." Yeah, that's exactly what your douchebag boss wants you to think.

Or, "At least we're not standing in soup lines." That's because there aren't any soup lines. Go down on the street with a big pot of chicken broth and a ladle. Watch how many jackasses grab a spoon and queue up.

You're going to miss newspaper articles and NPR stories about that poor, down-and-out HR manager who, after 6 - 10 years of loyally sorting resumes, scheduling interviews, and asking canned questions from across a desk in the potpourri stench of her sunny little office, she's been let go. And, now, after months of searching for another job, she may actually consider accepting a position for less than $46,000 a year...if only someone would offer her a job. Late at night, she has suicidal thoughts. Why, oh, why has fate been so unkind?
Oh, boo-fucking-hoo, you cunt. Now you know what it's like, don't you? Sucks doesn't it? It hurts knowing that someone has your resume in middle of a big thick pile of other resumes right next to the shredder. Now you know what it's like to sit in a room and discuss your life with an HR robot just like yourself: "Where do you see yourself in five years?"

"Describe a stressful event at your last job and how you handled it."

"How do you think a team should work together?"

"Do you enjoy change? Why or why not?"

"What do you like most about your current supervisor?"

Do you find it hard to answer one silly-ass question after another, Mrs. Laid-Off HR bitch? Is it hard to hide your desperation? You must be very self-conscious in those interviews considering you know the signs too well. Firm handshake. Good eye contact. Wait until you're asked to sit down. Choose a chair with arms if one is available. Don't fidget. Sound confident. No pauses. Smile. And, FGS, don't talk about how you've been laid off for months, but don't avoid the subject either. Tell them you've enjoyed the time away from work. Tell them you've had some great quality time with the kids. LOL, but you know they'll see right through that line of crap. You always did, didn't you? You never hired the poor, lost sap who needed a job, did you? Not when there were plenty of confident, winking blue chips who could take or leave the position you were hiring for. Yeah, now you know exactly what it's like.

Stubborn Must Run In the Family

Your biological half-sister, let's call her Ann, has tried a time or two or three to get you to meet the biological father you both share. He supposedly brought up the idea to her, and she took it upon herself to play go-between, which is really kind of a pussy-ass way for him to go about this sort of thing, IMO.

Then again, you weren't there for the whole "let's have your long-lost brother over for dinner" conversation. Maybe he really could give a shit less, just like you could give a shit less, and the whole plan to get us together in one room is more her idea.

Who's to say?

You could ask Ann to clarify things, but you won't.

Anyway, today Ann posted pictures online of a party celebrating your bio-dad's retirement from the Iowa Air National Guard. He was a freakin' Master Sergeant, so he was obviously involved in this thing for quite some time. You had no idea. This is all brand new information for yours truly.


Should you learn a few more interesting facts about this bio-father-person, you may be able to shake his hand one day in a moment that might pass as simply awkward, instead of what could possibly be a tad bit hostile.

Who's to say, really?

Not that you have anything against the guy. You don't even know his side of the story (or his side of any story, for that matter). Perhaps there's a very good explanation for having absolutely nothing at all to do with your son for over 30 years-plus-and-counting.

Your mother once attempted a shaky, kinda-sorta, patched-together pre-birth history/explanation for your benefit. Her story had a few holes, but you didn't/don't hold that against her. In fact, you've let the whole thing drop for the most part...until recently.

Actually, you have never been the one to pick up the subject. Your mother suddenly felt the need to explain things after she discovered that the sister you didn't know you had was attempting to contact you. Whoops.

So, now, here we are.

You'll be 38 at the end of this month. Sigh. You've never met this guy, so why should you meet him now? Are you supposed to invite him up for a baseball game or something? Go Twins? He's probably a Royals fan.

How are these overdue disfunctional entanglements supposed to get worked out? And, more importantly, is working it out more of a pain in the ass than it's worth?

Here's another question you've learned to ask yourself in certain situations: What good can come of it?

When you look at those digipics of this old, bald guy in spectacles and camouflage fatigues...he's holding a plaque in one, and eating cake in another...you just don't recognize yourself in him. He just seems way too dim.

Fact: Your bio-dad was in Vietnam when you were born. That fact was the cornerstone of your mother's rushed attempt to explain things. Killing commies was kind of a big deal around the time you were born. It's an excuse for many things.

Another fact: Your bio-dad is divorced. His marriage fell apart when Ann was in high school. Her mother moving out of the house was the subject of one of our first conversations. Good times.

Granted, there's not much to work with, but the facts at hand suggest that your biological father has a hard time keeping his relationships intact long-term.

So, you'll ask again: Is it more of a pain in the ass than it's worth? What good can come of it?

Economic Downturn...Hooray!

You're enjoying this so-called economic downturn. This busted market has made things much more bearable around here.

See, you've never been the type to appreciate wealth like the other douchebags trudging about in this bullshit arena of day-to-day, dog-eat-dog existence. Perhaps this is one more thing you can blame on your bleak catholic upbringing, but you've always considered money evil. (Not that all catholics consider money evil, because there are plenty of pious, genuflecting, Sunday-mass-oholic hypocrites who love to worship their net worth once they lose sight of the church door…but then that’s probably a subject for another blog.)

Until recently, you’ve never given saving money, or investing money, or managing money a second thought. Even the idea of earning money seemed sort of sacrilegious. Not that you’re lazy. You always have 5 – 10 projects on your plate, but that’s usually stuff that doesn’t get you paid, like, for example, writing blog posts. Earning money has always been simply a means of feeding yourself and paying the rent.

Here’s the thing, though: When one chooses to believe that money is no big thing, while living within a money-centric society, life can get kinda rough.

Here’s a little story: Your friend Leslie moved to Boston years ago to attend graduate school at Emerson University. She had a similar mindset as your own when it came to $$$. You’d never been to Boston, so, a few months later, you asked her, “So, what’s it like living in Boston.” She replied, “It’s a lot better than the Midwest. The people here still look down on you if it looks like you have no money, but it’s in more of a ‘I’ll overlook the fact that you’re poor as long as you overlook the fact that I’m greedy and shallow’ kind of way.”

You knew exactly what she meant.

Lately, (sigh) you’ve sort of surrendered to the concepts of buying a home and saving a nest egg for the future, but this is a very recent development. So recent, in fact, that you’ve hardly been affected by this horrible “economic tsunami” that’s depressing the entire globe. Sure, you’re 401k went down a bit, but close to 50% of that is free money anyway, so, unless things really take a dump, you’re not really losing anything. Plus, there really wasn’t that much there to begin with, and it was deposited in the past couple years, so any dip in the market now is just a blip on your account balance. However, with the market bottoming out and all, the balance of the ol’ retirement account has nowhere to go but up. If you had been dumping cash in there from day one, you’d probably be as pissed off as all these people who are pissed off because the 401k’s they’ve been dumping cash into since day one are all fucked up and deflated.



So, really, if you think about it, you kinda dodged a bullet, huh?







OK, you're not done with this subject, but you're out of time. You'll have to finish later. (And you were just about to get really antagonistic, too.)

Dirty-Ass Minnesota Snow

You are so sick of snow. Dirty, dirty-ass Minnesota snow in fucking March.

It makes you feel like taking a nap without brushing your teeth first.

You are off to bed at 3 in the afternoon.



Here's a pic of you and Sweetie on dirty-ass, frozen Lake Harriet Beach...in fucking March.

The RNC Anarchy Revelation (not Revolution)

Wanna know the difference between an anarchist and a pseudo-anarchist?

An anarchist understands that all things oppressive and hierarchical are feeble and absurd attempts at some sort of systematic order, and therefore finds party conventions, riot police, and organized hurricane evacuations laughable in light of their final eventualities.

A pseudo-anarchist breaks a Macy's window in downtown St. Paul in the name of anarchy, and then runs from the police.

Just sayin'.

The RNC Sucks Nuts Update

So, you got into your car just after 4:30 PM, and there was smoke billowing just across the river in downtown St. Paul. You're assuming this was probably tear gas as one of the smoke clouds was green.

At work, you had a perfect view of all the douchebaggery going on across the river. There was stalled traffic, and riot police all over Wabasha, and far to the south on the same river, a hurricane was hitting Louisiana. Nice.

Luckily, the protesters and police were pretty much fully engaged as you were leaving work, so you actually got out of there pretty quickly. For once, the douchebags were keeping each other busy, and they left you to your own devices. The only hold up was a long line of traffic headed to Harriet Island, but you were going the opposite direction.
Goodbye, St. Paul. You won't be coming back until all this bullshit is over with.