Tea Party Suck A Real Dick!

•April 16, 2010 • Leave a Comment

In fact all conservatives can suck my dick too. So you don’t want the federal government to become too powerful? Too fucking bad – it already is. You want things to go back to the way they were in the 1700’s? Never. Gonna. Happen. Bitches. You’re going to have to give some of your money to the less fortunate, to people of color, to other white people who prefer not to work, and to old, sick people who can’t afford medical care. Face it, you creepy pack of pathetic, scapegoating, whining little bitches! Less money for you, more money for Democrats.

And isn’t it ironic that government suddenly became irresponsible and out-of-control after a black man won the presidency? Isn’t it funny how a Democratic majority quickly morphed into an unjust, gluttonous leviathan? The answer to both is “no, motherfucker” because the tea party is a ragtag joke-faction of inbred whitebread fuck heads.

The whining-bitch-hypocrisy is fine with big government as long as the chips fall in the hands of the white dynasties. As long as those in power can stay in power. But guess again you obsolescent wrinkle-dicks – your time is over. Gays, artists, intellectuals, scientists, and all forward-thinking people will soon render your actions useless.

Come down from the podium – and let a real (preferably black), hairy tea bag whack you out of the way! Times are a changing, worthless coward fucks!

-Zoop

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Grownups that ‘Don’t Know How To…’

•March 18, 2010 • Leave a Comment

Grownups that Don’t Know How To…

It seems that every generation becomes just a little bit more helpless when it comes to dealing with the day to day glitches in the system. Today, if the toilet backs up, a large number of the population will immediately call a plumber; they have no idea how to operate such specialist equipment as a plunger. If a light bulb goes out in the refrigerator; call the repairman. A tree branch getting a little bit too long; call the yard care specialist. My grandpa had a word for these people; LAZY! Sure, some things require someone with more experience, but so many of the things people “don’t know how to do” should be mastered at the Jedi level by the end of high school.

Basic automotive maintenance is pretty straight forward and easy to do. When a guy tells me they don’t know where the oil goes, or, how to check the oil, I just want to sock them. Not knowing this implies one of two things: 1. They are too lazy to look at the owner’s manual or 2. They are illiterate and cannot read the owner’s manual. Probably both.  I can’t tell you how many morons I have helped change a flat tire because they didn’t have the first clue how to go about it. A ton of things can be easily fixed or changed with a few simple tools and a vehicle guide. It’s just pathetic to take a vehicle in to a mechanic to get spark plugs changed. Maybe it’s biased, but I’m more offended when guys don’t know this stuff than when girls don’t. I could care less about car culture, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to pay someone else to put in my new air filter. I think both genders should learn how to use a screwdriver and a wrench and stop their feigned ignorance.

Closely related is driving in general. As we have discussed elsewhere, most people are horrible drivers, but how does one come to be an adult and not know how to drive period? I have encountered an unusual number of adults that have this problem. It’s not for financial, ethical, or environmental reasons either. Half just ‘never learned;’ the others ‘are terrified.’ Are you serious? So they depend on other people to give them rides, or use public transportation. In addition, many of these people that ‘never learned,’ also have trouble with bicycles. What rock did they crawl out from under?  Slightly less offensive, but still annoying as hell, are people that ‘can’t drive stick’ (manual transmission). Of course these people always reveal themselves at just the right time; the guy that volunteers to drive later if you want to have a few drinks, but doesn’t bother to inform you that he will be stripping every gear in your car and that your fourth vodka sour of the night will actually cost you a new clutch. Thanks pal!

There’s always that person ‘that’s not good with directions or maps.’ This is beyond frustrating, especially if you are the passenger that knows where to go. ‘Make a right on Birch,’ you say. ‘Where’s Birch? they say. In your head your thinking, ‘you know that street we pass every single F***ING day? Well, it’s that one.’ It’s so much worse when it’s a place that you’ve both been to a million times and they still can’t figure out how to get there. Are they in outer space for twenty minutes at a time? Their body is still here, but clearly they are somewhere else. Trouble with maps? North and South? I think we all mastered geography in the fifth grade – maybe you shouldn’t have eaten so much damn glue! And now with GPS built into many cars and available on most smart phones, how can these people still have excuses? ‘Man I just have trouble with left and right.’

People that ‘can’t cook’ drive me crazy too. Again, it comes down to being lazy as hell. There is a cookbook for every type of food on the planet. These books come complete with words strung together forming sentences which in turn are organized as instructions. Most also have helpful pictures, and several take the time to explain measurements and basic kitchen equipment and techniques. The internet is almost as good as a library of cookbooks. Some sites are better than others, but damn, just get off of your ass and give it a try. ‘I don’t know how to bake or use the oven.’ Please slit your wrists now.

‘I’m not good with electronics.’ Bullshit! What you’re not good with is opening up the user’s manual and getting off the couch to connect a few wires and push a few buttons. It’s not rocket science. I’m pretty sure the general population that has figured out how to DVR American F**KING Idol doesn’t have an advanced degree in particle physics.

‘I don’t get computers.’ Oh yeah…right…you were born in 1875, and you’ve had your head up your ass since 1876 (John McCain for example). This group also can’t use cell phones, think that microwaves have way too many options, and probably still write checks.

‘I don’t know how to swim.’ A dog thrown into a pool, figures out how to swim in under five seconds. I will accept, ‘I can’t swim across an ice cold fast moving river.’ Total paralysis also gets cut some slack.

Grownups that don’t know how to grow up also have ridiculous phobias. ‘I’m afraid of clowns.’ Right, because you saw the movie It (based on the Stephen King novel) you were scarred for life and terrified by clowns…blah, blah, blah, blah. Unless you were anally raped by a clown right after he poured gasoline on your family and made you light the match; I don’t want to hear it. This is total bullshit being used to get attention. Afraid of the dark? Ghosts? Give me a break. You want something to be afraid of? Try my neighborhood where people get shot, stabbed, mugged, and beaten for their wallets; those things are real. Don’t give me this clown crap.

What’s my point? People are just getting to be too soft. They can’t do anything for themselves anymore, and they act helpless and feign ignorance because they are lazy or want attention. If they have some sort of perceived ‘handicap’ than they get special treatment. ‘Oh don’t forget, Karen can’t eat chicken, because of that one time when she was seven she got pecked by a chicken and she was traumatized.’ Husbands that won’t ask for directions and ‘can’t figure out how the stove works.’ Wives, that ‘don’t know how to handle that really terrifying bug’ (that incidentally is 1000 times smaller than them) or use that ‘really crazy metal tool thingy’ (wrench) to tighten a leaky pipe. Of course this brings up an interesting discussion on gender roles as well. It’s so stupid. Everyone should know how to do basic things around the house and take care of their car so they can find their way to the mall and by electronics that they hook up themselves before baking some brownies and plunging that toilet that got backed up because someone ate too many brownies. Grownups should act like grownups and stop adopting phobias because they think it’s cute or want attention. All of the above should be highly offensive to people that actually do have handicaps, learning disabilities, and clinically diagnosed mental illnesses that make them afraid of men wearing wigs and makeup (not queens; clowns).

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Pop-Culture Anathemas: Part 1

•March 9, 2010 • Leave a Comment

I cannot a imagine an existence so bereft of meaning, so out of touch with the here-and-now, and so disgustingly nostalgic, that Betty Boop—the bobble-headed cartoon giggle-snatch—continues to resonate.

Hearing “boop-oop-a-doop” the first time, I knew something sinister was at play. I realized much later that I had suffered a kind of inner necrosis. Something unspeakable and pernicious had embedded itself into my bones, into the very fibers of my thoughts. I could never forget it. I was angry, grief-stricken. I wanted the creators of this societal blight wrapped in all extant celluloid prints of The Boop and threatened with a lit match. “Apologize to the world!” I would say. And when they did I would throw the match anyway.

Occasionally I’ll overhear or glimpse the cartoon in motion—and sometimes I’ll hear the dreaded “boop-oop-a-doop” like the death rattle of all things good in the world. Menacing Boop head-shaped clouds form in the darkened sky; gale force shrieks of boop-oop-a-doop distort all sound and send fauna retreating to the woods. The gaping planet splits in two like a monstrous moldy apple, and at its rotten gray-green core, wriggling, swaying, jiggling, the busty, red-lipped worm leaps, its gargantuan head hypnotizing the weak as it leaches into their brainstems. I. Must. Look. Away.

The Boop is the atomic material from which nightmares begin. It is the catcall of doom incarnate. Yet the Boop image appears freely on clothing and expensive fake letterman jackets sold in the mall to old women fallen under its spell. I imagine these women going home to décor owing to the Nifty Fifties and using their Boop stationary to catatonically scrawl boop-oop-a-doop and other Boopisms over and over until their wrists hurt and they must enter their Boopified bathrooms to retrieve Boop bandages. Later, they lie down in their Boop sheets and go to sleep. In the morning the Boop alarm wakes them, its sound like an infinite, deafening chasm throughout the universe: “boop-oop-a-doop, boop-oop-a-doop, boop-oop-a-doop, boop-oop-a-doop, boop-oop-a-doop…” And some small, barely perceptible part of me senses this; it flickers on like a minute shadow-spark, slowly burning my life away one syllable at a time.

Zoop, retreating…

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•March 4, 2010 • Leave a Comment

Greetings. Been looking for deeper meaning in life through religion? Yet you’re just not enticed by the usual Christ cosmologies, are you? Virgin birth not floating your boat? Do you find that most religions today ignore the many exciting advancements in technology? Does your old church use outdated computers with green dot-matrix text? Not dazzled by the thought of a partly evil universe where Lucifer created dinosaurs just to tempt the pious? Could it be that you’re simply ready for a new and modern approach to life’s greatest conundrums? Well, have I got a religion for you!

Hit mute on that Lifetime movie you TiVoed, put down those platitude-ridden self-help books whose covers show carefree ponies whinnying on beaches, and open your mind to the riveting possibility of extraterrestrial beings intertwined within a complex and appealingly ludicrous mythology right here on your own planet Earth. That’s right, folks, put away that cumbersome bong of crystal methamphetamine—for this is exciting news. What’s more is that these beings imparted many secrets on us, their intergalactic brethren. Like a riverbed glistening with gold nuggets, these secrets merely await your discovery, for a fee, of course.

You see, omnipotent aliens created the universe millennia ago. As a goof, they created Earth; but some grew bored while tinkering with civilization and detonated a bomb in a volcano. Magical spirit-debris from the blast embedded itself into humanity, and there it remains, for all time, poisoning our pure spirits. It’s yucky stuff. Imagine billions of microscopic titanium particles with fangs and stingers that want nothing more than to instill a dull sense of existential grief in their hosts. But you can do something about these spirit-sucking nano-fleas.

Have you ever felt like all the mistakes you ever made originated from another you, or a part of yourself you cannot control but seems to control you? This is the bad alien poison making mischief in your life. But you don’t have to grant it access.

Best-selling science fiction writer (coincidentally) and author of scientifically refuted (coincidentally) self-help books, L. Ron Hubbard, stumbled upon these secrets sixty years ago. Through painstaking maritime research and patented advancements in technology, we’ve developed an arsenal of defenses against the bad aliens who created us, and, in essence, are us, destroyed us, and continue to prevent our true potential as human/alien hybrids. Our advanced techniques and powerful devices are now available to use, and through intensive training and guidance you will learn to combat the remnants of these nasty beings as they interfere with and invade your life. Uniquely tailored for all budgets, our religion offers, among other amazing benefits, eradication of alien debris responsible for causing men to become excited at the sight of another man’s genitalia. So act now, or forever be out of sync with the universe, and yourself.

Join the eternal and internal battle at: http://www.scientology.org/

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Christian Dinosaurs: What Would T-Rex Do?

•February 28, 2010 • Leave a Comment

If you listen to a true believer Christian, you will quickly discover that all of the “science” of paleontology and evolutionary biology is wrong. The several thousand scientists involved with genetic and evolutionary research for the past fifty years are all making up lies because they are evil people under the control of Satan. That evolution has been proven beyond a shadow of a doubt in every corner of our planet repeatedly in hundreds of laboratories by thousands of scientists with mountains of hard, tangible evidence and research that supports all of it; is all a farce.

You better believe that Adam and Eve were running around in the Garden of Eden with most of the cast of Jurassic Park just thousands of years ago (duh! The earth is only 8,000 years old so how could there be a really long 65 million years separation between dinosaurs and humans that has been repeatedly proven by science). Moses was damn lucky that a T Rex didn’t eat his ass while he was up there gathering his magical stone tablets. That raises another question – Why was the almighty and all powerful delivering his messages on stone tablets – wouldn’t an Ipad have been a lot more convenient all the way around, plus he could have included a sweet PowerPoint presentation on not coveting the neighbor’s wife or some shit? I guess his technology is only as good as the pathetic earthlings at the time. Just think how much more effective the gates of hell would be if they weren’t just wooden doors with iron locks, but instead were made of steel and had laser-beam sensors with machine gun turrets on either side.

Fortunately Noah had a way with animals and had no problem rounding up all the dinosaurs for his magic boat, though you’d think he would have run out of time collecting the several million other species of life (including countless strains of bacteria, etc.) on the ark (which incidentally would be impossible to build large enough to house all of the said creatures in our times – when so many have since gone extinct – using our high technology, let alone the pathetic conditions poor Noah must have been working in with his bumbling children). If you take a closer look at the painting of the Last Supper you will clearly see that Velociraptors are running around under the table snapping at each other.

I feel quite relieved to have the record set straight by our friends over at answersingenesis.org. I never realized that the evidence we should have all been looking at was as follows: “Did you know the word ‘dinosaur’ was first invented in 1841? Dinosaurs were probably called ‘dragons’ before that time. And the Hebrew word for ‘dragon’ is used a number of times in the Old Testament. There are also dragon legends prevalent in cultures around the world. It’s possible these are accounts of encounters with beasts we today call dinosaurs.” Really? That’s the hard hitting evidence? Where’s the A game? I mean, I like Dungeons and Dragons stories too, but I don’t believe a level 34 Orc Wizard is going to get me in the alley. Dragons; are you fucking serious? And oh yeah, Dungeons and Dragons is a game for Satan worshippers according to Christians – so now I’m really confused.

Exhibit B: “…there is a lot of evidence (such as carvings and paintings of dinosaur-like creatures)…” As a historian with three degrees, I can tell you the only paintings of dinosaurs in existence are made by kindergartners that are exploring the wonderful world of finger painting and have watched too much Barney. Carvings? I’d love to see these, but sadly, I know of no museum in the world that has any… But wait a minute; what’s that? Did someone say “Creationmuseum.org?” That’s right; it’s time to pack up the family and make your way out to Petersburg, Kentucky where you can see, “Adam and Eve live in the Garden of Eden. Children play and dinosaurs roam near Eden’s Rivers. The serpent coils cunningly in the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil. Majestic murals, great masterpieces brimming with pulsating colors and details, provide a backdrop for many of the settings.” I like the pulsating colors part. Right after you drink the LSD Kool-Aid, you can begin your tour of sheer fucking lunacy!

Yeah buddy! More evidence to be had at clarifyingchristianity.com! These guys actually identify specific dinosaurs mentioned in the Bible: Tanniyn (Hebrew for Dragon) clearly corresponds to the dinosaur kind of dinosaur; Behemoth clearly means Brachiosaurus; and Leviathan is definitely a Kronosaurus. How do they know? That’s easy; by careful classification and observation in the Bible of course! The Behemoth for example, “eats grass like an Ox, moves his (they even identified sex) tail like a cedar, has bones like beams of bronze, ribs like bars of iron, is the first of the ways of God, and lies under the lotus trees in a covert of marsh and reeds.” I don’t know about you, but that clearly says Brachiosaurus to me!

As an intelligent person, it seems ridiculous that it is even possible to rant about a subject such as this, but the sad reality is that as many as 60% of Americans believe that the Bible is the literal truth put down by God himself, and of this number, a great deal are convinced of the comingling of dinosaurs and humans only a few thousand years ago. They are not swayed by fact, evidence, logic, or reason. Pathetic.

Poop

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Sarah Palin To Abe Lincoln: “Happy birthday Mr. President…”

•February 13, 2010 • Leave a Comment

Abe Lincoln, I’m sorry, my man. The State of the Union is, to use the Scottish vernacular, shite.

The power-usurpers have thrust us into a series of self-serving, megalomaniacal and seemingly endless wars.

People in high places—mostly men—want to tell women what to with their bodies.

John Travolta.

People fear lesbians and gays again.

And Sarah fucking Palin won’t waft back to the worthless chunk of elk scat tundra she came from.

But it’s not Sarah Palin we should eviscerate with a steamroller and pave over with a square mile of asphalt on which to organize a ritualistic Chicken Soup For The Soul series book-burning pagan fuck-fest to “Sympathy For The Devil”— no, it’s her supporters. Looney Toon villain tattooed, gun rack mounting, hot dish serving, pseudo-religious, black man fearing bunch of backwards, backwoods buffoons.

These dumbfucks celebrate their myopic-mindedness like only a true Christian can. Having honed their arsenal of defenses against common sense in church—and in their racist, isolated, goat-fuck hamlets-of-nowhere—they’ve found in this maternal demagogue a political savior, someone to go to bat for their antediluvian ideas.

What began as a twisted, and auspicious, joke (McCain’s running mate) quickly became a twisted reality: Palin and her feverish throngs of homophobic simpletons had immobilized, and they were not going away. They were like full-size cardboard Wal-Mart displays of scowling hunters and sexy Eeyore pajama-clad housewives come to life: A Night At The Wal-Mart – only Palin’s right-wing, nearly unintelligible incantations supplied the magic.

These are a proud people. For generations, they’ve maintained a high level of anti-progressive thinking and old world values. For Palin, it was like discovering a population of pint-sized natives in an isolated sector of jungle where they consume the urine of jaguarundi because the “cat god” tells them to.  And Palin wore its pelt as a hat.

Palin’s supporters were laying dormant, just waiting for someone to appear who could justify their ignorance, bigotry, political disenchantment, and retarded sense of “American values.”

All the hardworking, honest Americans tripping over themselves to catch a glimpse of Palin’s nose-crinkling “straight talk,” need to remember this: Palin is a proven liar and an unabashed quitter, who, in her short but valueless term in office used her power to commit multitudinous fraud and theft. The difference between Palin and any other power-crazed politician on the rise is that Palin happens to be intellectually and ideologically stupid to the point that comparisons to precocious primates seem applicable. The woman is arrogantly dumb.

Much is made of Palin’s looks and whether this has influenced her popularity. Big fucking head scratcher!? If she looked like Barbara Walters no one would give a damn. Yet Palin has NEVER felt the need to address this issue or compensate by educating herself and developing an intellect. She has opted to play into the fantasy that maternal, no-nonsense folk wisdom is an ideology in itself. Maybe if she were running for PTA president.

The problems we face are complicated. How could these knobby-tired, semi-illiterates feel safe in the hands of a rhetoric-bumbling beauty queen?

On behalf of Mr. Lincoln (and myself) I am formally ordering that all racist, couch potato-ass, hypocritical, church-going fucking flag-waving dipshits get an education, talk to a black person, and read some real fucking books!

And peel the goddamn Stars and Stripes decals off your Buicks and other shitty American cars that don’t match up to the Japanese! You’re not American! America is a land of progress, bitches!!!

Zoop is out this bitch…

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Valentine’s Day: Classy Prostitution

•February 13, 2010 • Leave a Comment

911 call:
“I’d like to report an assault with a deadly weapon!”
“What happened?”
“This winged fat midget wearing a diaper shot me with an arrow…”

Yippee! Another Valentine’s Day is here! I can’t remember ever enjoying this day in a romantic capacity. And that’s not to say that I didn’t have someone for many of them. It’s a lot of pressure for a person in a relationship, and it can be a real bummer for single women. I think it’s much worse for the ladies – they really take it to heart (no pun intended).

When I was a kid it was fun building and decorating those little boxes and filling out those Snoopy cards with the hearts on them. Even the smelliest weirdest kid was guaranteed to get at least a couple of cards (Probably the ‘Your a real Dufus’ card from the Ducktales collection, but what the hell; one is better than none right?). There was always that childish fantasy that the cute girl in row two, that secretly also liked to eat glue, would give you a smooch on the playground. It was fun and exciting for most normal kids. Who didn’t have their heart skip a beat when they received that special heart shaped (tastes like chalky antacid) candy that said “Be Mine.”

As a grown up, my two best VDs (not venereal diseases) were going to a rave with my buddy and watching him drop an awesome drum n’ bass set, and another year when me and a friend went out for Thai food because both of our significant others had to go out of town on business. I started out a true believer in romance and ended up a cynical bastard after ten years of crummy relationship VDs as well as a couple of actual VDs (just kidding). I think the biggest disappointment was one year when I spent the time making a trail of little scrolls that each had a hand calligraphied “I love you because…” note written on them. The trail led to a custom made and hand engraved jewelry box with a necklace inside of it. I thought it was a good idea. Apparently not. The response was, “Great, I just got off of work, now I have to clean all this shit up!” Long story short; things didn’t work out. Another time the stone on a ring wasn’t big enough. Another girl didn’t like the home cooked dinner; she wanted to go out to a restaurant. On and on…

There is a lot of pressure put on males to get this day absolutely right. Is it because they fuck up so badly during the rest of the year that they have to make up for it all on one magic day? The jewelry industry would like to make us believe this. “Show her you care, show her you love her…blow your paycheck on some shiny metal and rocks.”

Where did this holiday from hell come from? The Romans of course! Originally February 15th was celebrated as Lupercalia, a fun filled day that included animal sacrifices and young men running around slapping young women with strips of flesh freshly sliced off of the sacrificial goat! It increased fertility! Later the Christians, wanting to ‘Christianize’ existing pagan holidays, merged the date with the stories of various martyred men named Valentine. During the middle ages, the idea of courtly love was attached to the holiday, and by the mid-19th century, the first mass produced cards started being printed (for men that were too inarticulate or creative to write anything of their own). Really what could say ‘I Love You’ more than taking five minutes out of your busy day to stop by the grocery store to buy a mass-produced card, signing your name on it, and then giving it to your special someone? Not much.
Well, maybe a heart shaped box of guess-which-one-isn’t-filled-with-vomit-inducing-filling chocolates would be better. I got one of those once. I turned my back for a few minutes and discovered my dog had got into it and eaten every last one. Greedy little bastard! You’d think he could’ve at least saved me one. That was a fun night of cleaning up doggie diarrhea. Thank you candy industry. Or what about decomposing plant life? That seems brilliant. Spend a hundred bucks on a nice flower arrangement that will be rotting trash in four days. I was once told, “It’s not about the flowers, it’s about how much you spend that means a lot.” Can I just give cash? No you cannot you thoughtless heartless bastard!

The guy is expected to buy flowers, candy, a card, and dinner at a fancy restaurant. A romantic getaway weekend is highly encouraged along with the other stuff. What about the women? Do some searching online on this very question, and you will discover a dearth of answers? The most commonly held belief is that the holiday is about the man buying stuff for the woman. The few responses offered are to give the man sex and maybe a card. Clearly a high value is placed on a piece of ass in this equation. The formula looks something like this $ + $ + $ + $ = SEX! I know I’ve seen this somewhere before. I’m thinking of the time I was in Mexico at this one ‘gentlemen’s club’ that had a few extra things on the menu… Valentine’s Day equals turning your loved one into a prostitute for a night? At least that syncs well with calling it VD.

What it boils down to is women want to feel spoiled and men (as should be no surprise) want to get laid. Women, if you want to spoil your man, buy him a six pack of his favorite beer and get some skanky underwear; he’ll love it. Shouldn’t couples be having sex and doing nice things for each other all year long anyways?

But yeah; the holiday is full of pressure on both sides. Men (poor stupid beasts) try their hardest to get it right, but often fall short of high expectations put on them (courtesy of the consumer industry and a non-stop parade of romantic comedies). Women, as well, often feel disappointed on this day for the same reasons. A lot of times it’s a big ass competition between a woman and all of her girlfriends to see who got the most shit. That’s sad. Unless he’s a complete moron, he did his best, and please don’t forget who mucks out the toilet when it is backfiring, keeps your car running, and patches the leaky roof. Boy does that sound chauvinistic and 1950s stereotypical, but to this day, I’m still the one that has had to do all of those things in every relationship I’ve been in.

The single are made to feel miserable because they are alone. It doesn’t help that the damn thing is scheduled for the grayest coldest part of the year. Can I speak to someone in management about this?

So exactly who actually enjoys this holiday? I’ll tell you who: Hallmark, Zales, Daniels, Kay Jewelers, Tiffany and Co., Helzberg Diamonds, See’s Candy…


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