Hey hey dildroids, it’s Wednesday. I’m farting and trying to crank out this drivel while my baby pretends to sleep in the next room. Now who’s utilizing the valsalva maneuver, eh? Anyway, what’s happening in the world? The whole world seems to be running out of money, which I guess I don’t understand. I mean, as much as a dummy like myself can, I understand the idea of entropy when applied to energy. It makes sense to me. It all just turns to heat, can’t be reharnessed and drifts through the universe like the energy version of old TV guides and fish skeletons and shit…That’s understandable. BUT, there’s all this new energy being created, by stars, nuclear plants, Keeping Up with the Kardashians, and so energy entropy, while scary in theory, not so much really in practice…energy in the universe, it’s an open system (or a large enough closed system that we’ve got a lot more immediate things to worry about, like money for example), but money…How the fuck is money obeying the laws of entropy? Is there a place in china that’s just shooting money into space?
Now, like energy, I know people make more money all the time, so where is the money going (and I’m fully aware of what flooding the market with currency does to inflation and all that, smartguy, so save it)?
Japan is in recession, Europe, recession, North America, in recession, Africa…hmmm…I’m guessing they’re not all suddenly wiping their asses with gold leaf in Africa…Is it population? Is it just that all the money in the world is getting spread around so much that places that need big concentrations of money to thrive are kind of getting fucked? I just don’t get it? How can EVERYONE get fucked at the same time? People blame china and India, but dude, if Slumdog Millionaire and Bizarre Foods with Andrew Zimmern have teamed up to teach me anything, it’s that they’re not exactly showering in hundred dollar bills in those places either.
Whatever. I’m no economist, believe it or not. I have very little to offer in the way of fiduciary advice. Fuck me, man. I can’t even remember what I was going to write about today? How about the Oscars? That’s a good topic. As timeless as it is timely. And let’s talk about a group of OH SO deserving people who are living comfortably above this economic downturn. Man, do I love the Oscars. Nothing makes me happier than a bunch of vacuous assholes sitting around sucking each other off for their mediocre performances in their dumb, nearly pointless million plus salary jobs. Thanks for telling me how awesome Kate Winslet is, Kate Blanchett. That’s what dreams are made of.
In my mind, they both smell so much like rotten farts and crusty panties…but hey, that’s just me.
Man, in the last week or two I’ve heard THIS sentence a few too many times: “Mickey Rourke was robbed.“ Robbed? That guy’s an asshole with a demented face and some sort of Christ delusion. There are like a million guys like that in the world, and you know who’s sitting right near the top of the pile of them, as far as luck/happiness goes? Yup. Puff Daddy. But also Mickey Rourke.
I have no sympathy for people who don’t win awards for their dumb hobbies turned million dollar jobs. But hey, I’m an asshole with a demented face and a Christ delusion, too, so what do I know? Maybe I’m bitter. Maybe.
Here’s what I know: I know that I have a very limited time each day to write this dumb blog. I cannot, as per my extremely tight schedule, spend more than fifteen minutes on this. In the past ten minutes, I’ve seriously been interrupted six times as I’ve tried to formulate a cogent thought here. Tried to say something snappy and urbane that will make you all out there, sitting on various shitters, iphones in hand, opening small browsers next to your spreadsheets as so not to be caught by your boss, idly checking this out while you wait for your balls to replenish on your porn whack a thon Wednesday, crack a little smile. That’s all I’m trying to do, man. Entertain. Do I need the crying baby, the dozen phone calls, the other phone ringing, the uncontrollable urge to do a billion things at once (I need to pick up the house before the cleaning lady comes! I need to write some music while the baby is asleep. I NEED TO CATCH UP ON PHONE CALLS! THERE ARE A BILLION EMAILS TO SEND! I NEED TO RESTRUCTURE THAT SCENE IN MY MOVIE WHERE THE DUDE CRAMS THE OXYCONTIN UP HIS ASS!!!!) distracting me? fuuuuck.
By the way, that last distraction didn’t really cross my mind. That scene is pretty much perfect as is. I want a beer. I want lunch and a beer. It sounds SO good, but, I’ve got shit to do, and as such, a beer is, in this instance, probably counter productive. Some would argue that a beer at ten thirty is ALWAYS counter productive, but I’d argue that they’re a lame pussy/grandma that lives a life of absolutes in a nebulous universe. Today though, all I want is a ham sandwich and a beer. And a blowjob. Some money. A butler. Nice car. The ability to fly. Rap career. That’s all. Oh, did I say blowjob? Yeah? Okay.
Enjoy your day people, it’s the oldest and closest to death you’ve ever been!