Tom emptied his drawers, leaving Ann alone in bed with a bag of nuts. Ann ate them, despite her allergy, tweeted a salty goodbye then died.
Washing dishes is not magic realism, fantasy or science fiction. You cannot wish a dish dirt free by rubbing a Genie’s lamp or will it clean with telekinetic abilities.
Dirty dishes in a sink remain in a state of food decay until said dish undergoes a Loofah scrub or dishwasher purification ritual.
You cannot change a dish from dirty to clean with a click of the remote control or get rid of a dish with a mafia hit. Dishes aren’t disposable and should not be tossed in the trash after just one use.
Leaving a dish unattended in the sink won’t teach it the virtues of clean living. There is no 12-step program for a plate, no pharmaceutical solution for dirty dish disease.
Don’t you know it’s sacrilegious to smite crockery at night?
A plate must stay chaste. You must cleanse its ceramic soul after defiling it. Otherwise, it might embark on a germicidal rage, corrupting Sippy cups juiced up on acidic vitamin C while sliming strung out saucers.
Gunk on a plate stays on a plate until you take the plate in your hand and purify it with Palmolive dish soap. Can I hear a hallelujah?
Brother, you must rid the dish of grease streaked sin by sanitizing it in suds. Enough is enough. You must absolve the dish of past residue and grimes of passion.
Purge the plate of maleficent Rocky Road and pecan pie. Flush the demons down the drain. Shine that plate until you can see your face reflect the pristine white glow of soap. That’s all it takes to free a dish of the grit that taints it.
Now say 12 Hail Mary’s and we’ll call it a day.
Debris or not debris. That is the question.
Only you can set it free.
Barking Up the Far Right Tree in Straw Poll, Iowa
With a purebred to mutt ratio of 2 to 1, the recent Iowa vote reflected the views of the majority of Straw Poll voters, the Bulldogs and Hounds.
When asked if Dog belonged in politics, Harry Hound bayed, “Buuuuuuuuut of course, who better to keep the American mutt in a pack-speak mentality than an Alpha Dog. Society is more orderly with Dog in charge.”
The others in the crowd agreed, wagging their tails in unison while peeing on a portion of lawn fashioned after the Constitution.
Harry Hound added. “It says right here on the grass, written in poo, ‘In Dog We Trust.’”
“Isn’t it true that you’re dyslexic,” Rabid Reporter said.
“We’ll leave that decision to the citizens of this taerg country.”
Mutt onlookers sat watching from the gallery, with ears pinned back, tails stuck between their legs; they started to howl, “Owwwwwt! Kick the bitches Owwwwwt!”
The Mutts panted nervously, as Maggie Three Breeds nosed her way through the crowd and nudged Rabid Reporter’s hand.
“I’d like to make a statement,” Maggie said, hocked up a grass loogie and continued. “Every family unit is a pack with its own Dog in charge. Putting the pack and Dog into politics is a dangerous precedent,” she warned.
“Then, the Buck doesn’t stop here. The Buck stops by the banks where the only cash flows and gets mauled by Paper Pusher Predators that corral all the Bucks and Does. No, Dog does not belong in politics. Dog belongs in the home with the family pack.”
Happy barking echoed from the Mutt gallery crowd.
“And out!” Rabid Reporter said, then followed Harry Hound’s scent to the staging area that reeked of expensive pee. “Would you like to respond to what Maggie Three Breeds said?”
After Harry Hound finished licking his balls, he turned to address the purebred elite.
“Dog rules. Mutts drool,” Harry shouted. “Without Dog in politics, all the mutts would run free, muddying the culture of our purebred theocracy. Long live Dog. In Dog We Trust!”
After the howling subsided, the Dog handlers grabbed the voters and shoved them into their pens.
“It’s better if they think that they’re in charge,” Big Biz said, and lugged the purebreds to the next stop on the low road of the Dog and Ponzi show.
I’ve got a new guilty pleasure. Can you guess what it is?
Already you’re discouraged.
Wait until you hear. I’m dying to tell you … I’m absolutely spritzing.
While channel surfing through our new cable program line up, I tripped over Jewish Life TV, fell down, and couldn’t get up.
God, I’m such a klutz.
But instead of calling a lawyer, I sat in stunned paralysis, staring at the TV with my mouth open …
Keep your mouth shut!
… and watched a commercial about the Jewish Basketball Hall of Fame, a video of famous twentieth century Jewish basketball players.
I didn’t know there were any Jewish basketball players.
But I was hooked. I tell you. I thought I had died and gone to heaven.
With such mashugana programs as Mensch Life with David Grossman and Doris Epstein, the comedy/talk show, James & Sunda, and their faux sponsor Neurotic Star.
James said (paraphrasing) that “after drinking Neurotic Star he became obsessed about a girl he called, wondering why she never called him back until he realized he had never called her in the first place.”
And other fakakta shows like Jewish Music Video Countdown (in Hebrew), Kosher Organic Ranchero, and Talkline with Zev Brenner.
I had finally found my temple and it cost me bupkis. I should be so lucky to afford a ticket to Friday night Shabbat But now I didn’t have to because of The Beat : Shabbat Medley.
I found God on cable and will watch JLTV religiously. It should be played frame-by-frame on TiVo. After all, no good comes out of hurrying.
So, this I tell you with a heavy heart. Light hearts are too skinny, and you really need to put some meat on your bones.
Don’t be a nebish and miss TV’s greatest mitzvah, or you should get a stomach cramp and die!
I love you JLTV. Thanks to you now, I have two Jewish mothers in my life.
Apparently, all corporations aren’t part of the evil empire. Earlier today, a representative of Newell Rubbermaid contacted me to clarify the LA Times article I cited in my post yesterday.
Hi Lauren, just read your blog with interest. I’m with Newell Rubbermaid and wanted to clarify something from the LA Times article. We actually are continuing to hire in the U.S. but not as rapidly because the market is highly developed. Meanwhile, as we introduce our brands to new countries we need to hire local salespeople and other local staff to support those launches. We are not “sending jobs” overseas just generating new local jobs to support new local sales in new countries.
In fact, growing overseas means we need to hire additional people in the U.S. to manage those people overseas, as well as develop new innovative products for those markets, etc. So overall in Newell Rubbermaid’s case when we can grow internationally, we often continue to add U.S. jobs.
It was unfortunate to be included in the LA Times article mentioning companies laying people off because we are not doing layoffs.
If you are interested in discussing feel free to call me.
Next time, instead of depending upon the LA Times to do their DD, I will search the far reaches of the Intertubes to fact check articles I intend to cite.
To quote the folks from South Park, “You know, I’ve learned something today.”
We shouldn’t believe everything we read. Just because something is printed in black and white doesn’t mean it’s true. Reading a newspaper article should be regarded with the same skepticism as say, a doctor’s diagnosis. It’s always a good idea to get a second or third opinion.
“Newspaper people have a habit of putting you in the front pages to sell their papers, and then after they’ve sold their papers and got big circulation’s, they say, ‘Look at what we’ve done for you.’”
I leave you with several links to fact-checking sites:
Now that Big Biz has helped stall the economy because they’re not adding new workers, and in fact, laying workers off, they’re cutting and running overseas to invest in growth over there.
Warning: Do not ingest any food byproducts before reading this.
Today from the Los Angeles Times:
Newell Rubbermaid Inc., one of the biggest marketers of children’s car seats, for example, is expanding in Brazil instead of the United States. While young Americans are putting off having children, in part because of the poor economy, Brazil’s middle class is growing, and many more young couples are starting families.
So more Brazilians have the money to buy new, upscale car seats while more U.S. parents are making do with cheaper brands or hand-me-downs.
It also helps Brazil that it recently mandated car seats for infants, says David Doolittle, a spokesman for Newell, which sells Graco baby gear, Parker pens and Sharpie markers. While Newell’s employment and operations in the U.S. are stable, he said, “We’re just not doing a lot of new investment. We’re putting it all behind emerging countries.”
Screw the American consumer stuck in a pile of Big Biz droppings. It appears that BB has given up on job creation at home and the middle class and is taking their business overseas to consumers in Asia and Latin America where people can purchase their products because they have their jobs.
Big Biz is killing the American economy and Congress won’t do anything about it because Big Biz is their sugar daddy.
So, in honor of Big Biz and Congress’ desire to blow them instead of represent the people that voted them into office, I give you my adaptation of the 1917 song “Over There.”
Over there, over there,
They send the jobs, send the jobs over there
Big Biz is coming, Big Biz is coming
The cash flow-flowing everywhere
So prepare, they don’t care,
They send the jobs, send the jobs over there
We’ll be over, they’re going over,
And they won’t come back ’cause their money’s over there
In tribute to the brain dead politicians who wasted billions of dollars last week while trying to resolve the debt crisis, I’m reposting this piece from 2009.
Are you a Debtutant?
“Nothing says give me a break like a credit card slap in the hand,” the sales lady said.
“Yes,” the others echoed from a line that stretched around the room while sinking into the soles of their bottomless shoes.
They waited their turn to choose between heaven and hell among the wasted should have beens collecting dust on the shelf.
“It’s 20% off.” The sales lady said. “Just give me your card, and you can have whatever you want. It’s easy money. Don’t think about the mortgage or putting your kid through school. You’ve got to live in the now!”
“Greed is good,” the others chanted while toeing the line. “God Bless America.”
“Oh, say can you see. It’s bad to be thrifty. You need to spend to keep the economy healthy even if you’re dying from debtors disease.
“So, cough up the credit card. Forget about the lien against your home. Enjoy the fifty-foot flat screen TV with treble and woofer surround sound before the repo man comes to take it while they auction off your house.
“Live in the now, or you’ll live to regret the what ifs later when reality settles into the butt imprint you left on the couch, where you used to sit and click through 300 stations of shit on your remote control.
“You’ve got to live in the now!
“Stress will purify your soul. Don’t grow old and crapless. Keep the inside of your wallet free from mold. Air it out often with your debtor’s club card. Remember, money is paper. Plastic is gold.”
What’s in your wallet?