Tag: Dysfunction

War On Terror. War On Drugs. War On Boobs. Amerika Fcuk Yea!

boobs

There you have it, dear worst-reader. Another law (ordinance?) has been created by the/a state so that you can be served the best quality juicy delight of governmental hard work that (in)humanity has to offer. And would you believe I’m actually from the place where this level of mindlessness happens–whether it’s about boobs or not? Nomatter.

Indeed.

Have no fear tax payer slash bank-bail-outter. Your laws are made daily–as if you didn’t know that–and you should be proud of those that make these laws–even if the law makers all sound like redneck truckers that just got out of a Ho-Chi-Minh movie drive-in that featured a barnbuster about how girls are raised by perfect mothers who hide their faces when their unknown fathers procreate on their fleshiness all in the name of good-times and a few drinkie-poohs while letting themselves go when visiting THE BEACH. (Nothing against truckers, by-the-buy.)

I mean #1, come on. It’s not as though there are more important things to do in the grandness of the greatest failed experiment in human stupidity.

I mean #2, aren’t laws the thing, i.e. legislation, that has given you (insert #) years of war and/or money transference to the rich? Laws have made your inner most Cinderella dreams come true and given you your beloved #Trumpism, too. Wow.

Can you say lack of voters, titties and electoral college three times real fast, dear worst-reader?

And when summer time comes ’round and the embarrassing nature of your humanity takes precedence–which you hide under strips of cloth–it’s time to wipe away the seriousness of death and murder and destruction–that is all these years of wars-of-choice and US treasury depletion at the hands of the thieving rich–because it’s time to deal with those luscious pillows, those fun-bags, those randy-dandies, those jugs… that turn the heads of boys and girls while you try and continue your cinderella nightmare-dream in the hideaway of a vacation your credit card will never be able to get paid. Or maybe not.

Let’s just move beyond all the worst-writing then, shall we. Oh. And heed this: naked man boobs rule!

Rant on.

-T

Links that motivated this post:

Random Moments Of Consumption Galore Or How To Get Your Kicks While On Route To 666

route us 666

Moments I recall that are all–must be?–part of today’s #americant opioid problem galore (see links below). The funny thing about this little list of recollections is that all the parties involved had something to do with Vegas. …I think.

Moment #1

While drinking a beer and waiting for an international flight at PHL a few years back I’m sitting between Cutie and Young Gun at a pub. Cutie asks if I’ve got any Speed because she doesn’t want to fall asleep on the plane before she arrives in Vegas.

“Speed?” I ask. “The last time I heard someone your age use that term I was working post production on the movie Vanishing Point?”

There is a pregnant pause while Young Gun on my other side rummages around in his shoulder bag and Cutie frivolously contemplates my response by turning her head to the side like a pug.

Cutie can’t be more than thirty-five and is dressed in expensive clothes that look as though they might come from Über-GAP. She’s thin, tight and probably walks on heels as though they are tennis shoes. She’s got a beautiful leather shoulder bag and one of those small Tumi rolling suitcases that’s glossy black. Since I’m on an evening flight to Europe I’m wondering why, with a five hour flight to Vegas, that will put her there in the early evening, she needs to be awake. Nomatter.

The pause is over and so is my mix with Cutie. Young Gun answers her question.

“I’ve got some Ritalin,” Young Gun says.

Cutie smiles and, as if I’m not even there, reaches across my face, the hair of her forearm is thicker than mine, and takes two pills out of Young Guns right palm. The pills have a dove engraving on one side and a sideways 8 on the other.

Moment #2

While visiting family in rural Virginia I’m out grocery shopping for the family dinner. I’m having a hard time finding wet mozzarella cheese in the huuuuugeness of the store. I make my over to the deli counter and stand in front of the glass next to a few people hoping I could get some answers and/or directions to what I’m looking for. Three clerks are desperately slicing and packing deli stuff behind the counter when I over hear two people waiting in line next to me, who obviously haven’t seen each other in quite a while, chit-chat.

Pseudo-Friend 1: It’s good you’ve been well. You look great.

Pseudo-Friend 2: Yeah, not always the case. But thanks.

Pseudo-Friend 1: Say, do you still have any of that… (I can’t make out what she says).

Pseudo-Friend 2: Sure. Got some right here. You want?

Pseudo-Friend 1: Oh. You’re a doll-baby. This is my day!

One of the clerks is talking to a customer she just gave sliced honeyed ham and mentions how she, unlike most people in the store that she is obviously referring to, isn’t gonna inherit anything like everybody else is. I can’t help but catch a glimpse of the clerks rotting teeth as she talks to much making other customers wait. I think to myself, this is 2015 America! Who has teeth here like our dentally challenged inbred cousins in Engaland? Deli clerks do. Obviously. Oh my. Should rotten teeth be in/around deli meats?

It’s Pseudo-Friend 2’s time to order. While rummaging through her purse she belts out the ounces for honeyed-ham, spiced turkey, salami and a few others. When she’s done ordering and the rotten teeth clerk goes about gathering it all, she finds what she’s looking for in her purse but before she takes it out she turns to me.

Pseudo-Friend 2: Bit nosey today, eh mister good-lookin.

Smiling at me she pulls a small plastic pouch out of her purse that is sealed with a twist tie. The pouch is filled with what looks like white crumbs mixed with powder. She then notices her error.

Pseudo-Friend 2: Oh wait. Wrong one.

She returns to rummaging in her purse but then pauses and puts one hand on the shoulder of Pseudo-Friend 1.

Pseudo-Friend 2: Don’t worry, I’ve got it. By the way, when were you last in Vegas?

Pseudo-Friend 1: Funny you should ask. I’ll be there tomorrow afternoon. I’m just buying my kids some supplies for the weekend. They just love the ham from this deli.

I notice Pseudo-Friend 1’s shopping cart is full of chips, frozen hamburger patties, paper plates, hotdog buns, relish, frozen pizzas, pickles, plastic containers full of potato salad, ketchup, mustard, mayo, etc., etc. Her cart alone is a fourteen year old’s dream. I guess.

Pseudo-Friend 2 removes another plastic pouch with a different colour twist tie. The pouch is full of at least twenty or so green pills. She hands the pouch to her pseudo-friend and then turns to me again.

Pseudo-Friend 2: What’s the matter, good-lookin, never seen the white rabbit before.

Pseudo-Friend 1 holds up the pouch for a few seconds so that I could inspect it. The pills all have the indentation of a rabbit.

Moment #3

Friends of my mother are having a family crisis. Because of an illness their son has been transferred to a hospital in Baltimore. When I hear them say that they are afraid to make the drive (they are very old) I volunteer to drive them. They are grateful. After I drop them off the hospital I park the car and proceed to take a walk around the city. I eventually find a coffee shop (yea, you know which one) and order a double espresso, a bottle of fizzy water and an oatmeal cookie. I find a window seat where I hope to take in the scenery of my beloved #americant and the vibrance I’ve been missing since becoming an expat a quarter century ago.

Within moments of sitting down, just after my first sip of espresso, two young people (mid-twenties maybe) sit at a table near me. They both have über large paper cups of what I guess are lattés. One of them has brought the sugar dispenser from the condiments table with him, including three or four wooden stirrers. One guy grabs the sugar dispenser and begins to fill his über-cup as though there is no tomorrow. The other takes one of the stirrers and stirs his latté with the same vehemance. The guy with the sugar has filled his cup so much that the frothy milk begins to overflow, dripping onto the table. I’m waiting for the other guy to grab the sugar dispenser but he doesn’t. He just stirs and stirs and stirs.

Sugar: You need to be there for brunch on Sunday.

Stirrer: I told you. There are no more flights. I’m on standby but you know how it is with Vegas on the weekends.

Sugar: Why didn’t you book earlier?

Stirrer: Come on. I’ll get there. I’m leaving for Miami tonight. I should get there Saturday evening. Worse case, I’ll arrive Sunday morning and rush to the hotel.

Sugar: Yea, right.

Stirrer: By the way, how’d it go the other night. You like the new mix?

Sugar: It was good. I’m not sure I noticed much of a difference to last time. But it was good. You got anymore?

Stirrer puts a small pink envelope in front of Sugar. Sugar looks in it. Sugar smiles.

Rant on.

-T

Links that motivated this post:

It’s A Good Thing I’m Not Draining The Swamp Because I’d Start With Those T-Shirts that Say: FBI – Female Body Investigator

t-shirt fbi female body investigator

No. Seriously. I bet if you did some kind of whacked-out empirical study–you know the stuff college grads can’t do anymore–because if they could they wouldn’t have gotten the world into the neo-liberal krapp-shoot it’s become–then you would know for sure what purpose a government organisation like the FBI really serves. It’s funny too how a former and recently fired FBI director is going up against the president of the united mistakes of (my beloved) #americant so that someway, somehow, a royally dumb-downed society can know the difference between this lie or that lie. Indeed. Drain the swamp? I’d start by getting rid of the FBI. I mean. Come on. Other than extortion and hunting the communist nightmares of those who can’t think for themselves, i.e. conservatives hunting communists, what purpose does the FBI serve? And not only that, if the FBI was worth a hoot when it comes to crime (criminology) then why would the US government need to create a completely new money sucking organisation known as The Homeland? (Or is it Homeland Security?) Whatever. What a shame that all these stupid white men in suits and ties appear before government committees and no one watching can see the difference between bullshit and a nightmare.

Or maybe not.

trump comey

Rant on.

-T

Hey Kids! Your Future Is Being Predicted Right Now. Get It While You Can. #Fascism Game Play Galore

next to last supper from ubisoft far cry
pic is from Ubisoft; it’s called: “next to last supper”; how appropriate

What do you recall from reading Jules Verne and George Orwell, Mr. Worstwriter?

I’m so glad you asked, dear worst-reader.

I remember from both those writers how my future was being predicted. Indeed. Even though I didn’t read much when I was kid, by the time I got out of the waste-of-time that is #americant suburban-hell highschool, I was reading like a mad man. Verne and Orwell were, to me, similar writers–even though they wrote completely different stuff. Both men were writing about worlds that didn’t actually exist but unlike other forms of fiction that I consumed, their worlds were at least based on something that felt as though it could be real. And so. When I started traveling with jet airplanes, Verne’s world came true. When I started getting my ass kicked by corporatists, aka fascists, Orwell’s world came true.

Hop skip and jump to the now.

As far as I’m concerned there hasn’t been much future-telling from generations after Orwell and Verne. Why is that? My worst-guess is, the future that was told and we’re now living in is also an end-game. What Orwell and Verne didn’t or couldn’t know is that when their worlds came true, there was then nothing left after that. Or was/is there? Enter the magic world of virtual game play. Have a playstation, xbox, gamer-PC? How ’bout a nintendo or a sega? Heck, break out that old iphone or even your old zune. Computerised gaming is here, baby. And it’s doing more than competing with movies, turntables, radio-hour and a good fcuking book. In fact, my guess is, computerised gaming is better than reading. How do I worst-guess that? Easy. Where are the kids–like when I was young–who know-it-all?

And no. Millennials don’t know it all. (If they did then books would be more popular than all their krappy pop music!)

Would you believe dear worst-reader that gaming has finally come full circle? I mean, it’s come full-circle like Verne (with his then sci-fi predictions) and Orwell (with his prediction of stupid people voting and faux newz taking over the airwaves) have come full circle. Although their predictions are a bit early for my taste, what the fcuk do I care? I live for convenience–and my highschool wish of being financially independent came true before my mid-40s. And so. At my age I can gladly lean back on my wooden la-z-boy and laugh my ass off as the morons that play the game, suck up to the game, get fcuked by the game. Why? It’s as though we’ve reached a point where reality has been tuned and manipulated by great literature and by those who never read it. On top of that, it’s also been tuned and manipulated by fcuking cartoons. Ha. Ha. Ha. Ha…

Now get this.

The newest addtion to the Far Cry computer game franchise takes place in my beloved #americant. And not just any place in #americant. As though it was a premonition, the recent WWE asskicking of a reporter by a nutjob republican bully running for Congress…. Ha. Ha. Ha. Ha… Far Cry, the computer game, is set in the same place, with the same local mentality, with the same, the same, the same… #americant. Ha. Ha. Ha. Ha. I mean, it’s perfect. Ha. Ha. Ha. Where Orwell’s world could work in Bangkok as well as Moscow, Far Cry’s newest story line can ONLY work in Montana. For that we can thank all those techi a$$holes in the only industry doing anything at any price. Ha. Ha. Ha. Gulp. Sip. Burp.

Short pause.

Not only are we living better through chemicals but consuming to survive seems to be working out pretty well, too. Good luck with your future. And don’t forget, find a way to continue voting conservatives into office because for the last 50 yrs they’ve given you what you’ve got. And now you can even play them in a computer game… Ha. Ha. Ha… It’s certainly better than reading about what predicts your future… Ha. Ha. Ha.

Burp.

Rant on.

-T

Link that motivated this post:

Afeared Or Confused? Don't Worry You're F*cked

Let’s run it down, shall we. This guy (video) appears at the republican (nut job) convention to announce that he’s gay and … wait for it … and he’s also a republican–that supports #Trump. And the freak show doesn’t stop there. He even has the gall to ask the question “who cares where someone goes to the bathroom” in a room full of people who know nothing else in their lives but who should go in what bathroom. Does that mean this guy doesn’t care who pees on him? Oh. But I digress. And get this (worst-thought). This person is a mega-venture capitalist from Silicon Valley that made billions while The Clintons were turning #americant (the 90s) into the corporate cesspool of dysfunction that it’s become. Yet he goes on stage at the republican national convention to do (t)his schtick. Confused yet? Don’t worry. If you’re someone that actually has the privilege these days of being able to work for you own portion of the economic pie of poverty just keep this in mind: since you’ve been fucked all along it doesn’t matter that you get fucked till the end of your days.

White male billionaire greed is the daffodil growing out of your unicorn rainbow sh*t life. Let us rejoice in what we have reaped.

Good luck suckers. Rant on.

-Tommi

The Lie Of The #Eurowasteland Mind

Scream no fear all worst

When I moved to the Germania tribe of the EU in 1989, just before the Berlin Wall fell, money was all-kinda confused and at border crossings, especially to Holland, guards still checked my baggage for drugs. Was I relieved when the money got simple and I didn’t have to worry about them finding a few ounces of hash packed in coffee grounds in my backpack? Hell yea. But that’s about the only good that has come out of the European experiment. The thing is, I was always a Euro skeptic–hence my failed attempt at trade-marking “#eurowasteland”.

I even used to try and converse with Europeans about their future. The question I would ask was simple. Are you German/French/Dutch, etc., or are you European? The question threw a few people off. But in the end the answers were all the same. After pondering their heritage, their language, the cheese they eat and the bread they suck on, they all eventually said, “I’m European but…” The EU is and has been bound to fail–especially as the world comes to terms with the boil & toil it’s gotten itself into in the last twenty or so years. I mean, come on, we are at the beginning of WW3, or? With that in mind, let’s go down Tommi’s little worst-list of what makes the EU… the fucking EU.

  • Although its history and planning goes back much further, the EU really started at the fall of communism. Since communism is, literally, a European thing, how would/could a united Europe orient itself politically if one of its greatest inventions failed so miserably?
  • A single government in Brussel was/is mistake number one. The EU is all about the turmoil and chaos of tribalism. Add to that the bullsh*t of church, monarchies and so so so many people that really, truly believe that they sh*t roses… (Just go to any major EU city and watch the people that live and work there. They all also think they shit Marie Antoinette cake.)
  • The idea of a united Europe based on the United States was a mistake from the get-go since the US was founded by people who ran from the political and social chaos that houses both monarchies, pseudo-communism and the single greatest scam in human history: the fucking Vatican. (Keep in mind that all countries of the EU are centrally controlled states whose economies are dependent on the wills and thrills of banks and churches THAT ARE STATELESS.)
  • Like all pseudo-democratically elected governments (the EU parliament is not democratically elected–they are appointed!), Brussel failed to provide even an ounce of truth to its minions about what it’s really up to. Like any other pseudo-capitalist entity it can only do what a bank allows it to do. This is why countries like Greece and now the UK have to face reality harder than countries like Germany. While the EU parliament was playing around with the lie of governing and political representation the world has been, literally, falling apart over oil and cheap labour. That level of falling apart is easy to hide when you have (almost) free health care, half decent transportation infrastructure (except for Köln, of course) and a system of socialism painted the colours of a rainbow. All of this is perfect for rekindling old tribal ways.
  • That the EU even partook in bailing out Greece is a fucking joke on a grand scale and, not ironically, the catalyst for the UK’s current reaction to this mess. And, btw, Greece had two similar mandate elections regarding its position in the EU–which is ultimately what Greece voted for. The UK has just had it first mandate election. Gee, when’s the next one coming–or hasn’t the queen decided yet? All of this means that as far as banks are concerned, the UK is no different than Greece. The moronic working classes that eat their own shit will never fully understand what’s really going on here.
  • The EU invented “austerity”. Austerity is the reason that kings and queens and socialists (i.e. pseudo communists) exist. Well, that and “belief” in spaghetti monsters traversing the universe in teapots made of unicorn shit. What’s happening to the world right now in the form of economic austerity mixed with globalisation is payback by the ghosts of (19th century) aristocrats that all lost their shirts when people rose up to demand human rights. And so. The biggest problem the world has today is that all those people that rose up against the capitalists pigs of the early 20th century, all died off and left nothing behind. Indeed. Smart people don’t breed! Yeah, baby. The robber baron comeback is done.
  • Everybody with half a mind should be following The Donald right now. Nothing better exemplifies the mindset that has lead to the EU problem (and #americants problems) than Donald J. Trump. I mean, let’s face it, Trump is from another failed European experiment best known as the grand united mistakes of #americant. While a closed class of pseudo aristocrats run all the businesses in the world (of which The Donald is not one!) in collusion with banks (another class in and of itself) where a few people are allowed to suck the teat of it all (which is where The Donald is really from), the only thing left is to watch reality TV (which is also a European invention) and hope for the best.

But I digress.

The EU failed from the get-go because Europe and Europeans have only given two things to human history. One is communism and the other is monarchies that can’t but should die.

Good luck suckers.

Rant on.

Links that motivated this post:

The Gun Of Stupidity On The #Americant Road To Nowhere

route us 666

First. Let’s be clear here. I hate having to search for business news on the interwebnets. Why? Well, thanks for asking, dear worst-reader. The reason I hate searching for business news is because almost all of the links I get are from propaganda news sites. Most people call this kind of news “the media”. Lucky for you, worst-writer ain’t so stupid–to call it something it ain’t. (Enough of the ain’ts, right?) Whether it’s the wall street journal (low case intended), forbes (which I never go to because, well, it’s a shit site) or, God forbid, faux newz, they are all corporate propaganda sites. With that in mind, it takes a bit more effort to get to a news source that isn’t one-of-the-above.

(Please. I know that the sources that I do use (see links below) are often nothing but syndicators of the sites I refuse to visit. But at least I’m trying here, eh.)

Second. The reason behind the old economy rush to get behind the new (pseudo) economy has nothing to do with providing easy, convenient taxiing services. No. Car manufacturers recent “investments” in car sharing services is really about car makers waking up to the fact that the minions–especially the minions in the West–can’t afford to buy cars anymore. By investing in ride sharing services, car manufacturers can at least count on selling a few more “product” to these services. In fact, the corporate smart-asses that run the lives of minion #americants that work/live for them don’t have to stop at being enablers of new fangled car/ride sharing services. If you buy/finance a car with Toyota and, for whatever reason, can no longer make your payments, you can then go drive for Uber. Good thinking Toyota.

Did you get that, dear worst-reader?

Let me rephrase it cause this is really, really important.

You get a new Toyota and when you can’t make payments, you WILL (have to) use your Toyota to drive for Uber.

Way to go #americant innovators. Another notch on the gun of stupidity.

Good luck suckers.

Rant on.

-t

Links that motivated this post: