| Winter 2002/2003 |
Pills are your friends. When you have a headache, what do you take? That's right, a pill. And why not, a pill makes everything better. Pills are your friends. They take away your pain. There's a new pill nicknamed Instant Smile that promises to make Prozac seem more like a Flintstones chewable. How does it work? Quite simply Instant Smile makes you feel great. "All your troubles melt away," says some scientist we found. "It's incredible, you find that you have no worries," says a faceless, formally depressed, patient who is currently on Instant Smile. She continued to say, "Even when I lost my job, my dog and my car, I just couldn't help but smile." The end of depression has finally arrived. Gone are the days where you have to deal with your emotions, and your problems. Today Instant Smile lets you cheerfully walk away from your problems. Do you have a bratty kid because you your a horrible parent? Let someone else deal with them, with Instant Smile. Do you have bills to pay, but little, or no, money? Use what little money you do have to get a bottle of Instant Smile, and you'll be smiling while sleeping in your car. Whatever your problem, you can't find anything on the market that will help you cope than Instant Smile. |
You ever bump into some guy who's a big shot? You know the kind, the one that thinks the whole world revolves around him, or her, don't want to discriminate. Yeah, well, these people always know someone, who knows someone who will fire you. Hey, I'm just doing my job... I'm not paid to think, to create rules, or to contradict you. I'm here to do my job. I'm getting paid to get told what to do. If I say something different, I find myself out on the street. So, the next time you come around big shot, I'm just going to say FUCK YOU. Know why? Because you think your so big. Oh yes, your father is the boss of the boss that's my boss. Only, he works in some other part of the company. But, it doesn't matter, your such a big shot, of course your father is going to be an even bigger ass-hole, I mean big shot, than you. So, I know he'll get on his gold plated phone to call up someone that can fire me. No matter what the deal is, if the big shot's son, or daughter, says that they have to fire me, I'll be fired. Faster than it takes you to take your gold plated shit. There, you proved that your a big shot. I didn't kiss your ass, so I'm out of a job. There, you did it. You put me in my place. You fucked me in the ass. I'm sure that shows the world that your a big shot. BIG FUCKING DEAL ass-hole. I don't care who you are, your still a jerk to me. Say, "Do you know who I am," again and I'll laugh. I know who you are, your the jerk that thinks the world revolves around you. FUCK YOU. |
| Important News |
As a sports fan I grew up watching teams play in pantheons to sport, with names to match. Basketball teams used to play in stadiums named The Forum, and Boston Garden. Now those two teams play in some things called Staples Center, and Fleet Center. Football teams used to play in stadiums named Three Rivers, and Mile High. Now those teams play in Heinz, and Invesco Field.
As a fan I'm subjugated to the constant barrage of advertising. It's bad enough that I don't know what these stadiums are named after, but I have to hear it every minute. On any telecast part of the game is to say the name of the stadium every time there's a commercial break.
"Welcome back to the Oakland versus Denver from Invesco Field. Today's game is brought to you by Nestle's Quik, and Adam's Big and Tall store on third." How many commercials can you cram into a single telecast? It's not enough that the stadium is named after some stupid product, but then the whole of the stadium is plastered with even more ads. Watch any hockey game and you'll see ads on the ice, on the gloves and on the puck. "This slap shot brought to you by Ben and Jerry's iced cream dessert."
And you know what all these ads do to a person? The ubiquity of advertising has made us numb to it. They only enter our consciousness subliminally, making them all the more numbing. Which begs the question, does this avalanche of advertising lessen the affect of inane ads?
I say no. It's not enough that my team plays in a stadium named after a little piece of metal that holds papers together. I want everyone to know what kind of shirt I bought. I want everyone to see it on my chest. I want to shout it out to all the world, "I wear Abercrombie and Fitch!"
"I wear Tommy Hilfiger!"
"Hey everybody, I'm a walking advertisement for Abercrombie and Fitch!"
"Hey everybody, I paid $50 for this shirt so I could be a walking advertisement for Tommy Hilfiger!"
Oh, I have to go, I have tickets to the game. I can't wait to see the new stadium. They say it has heated seats, and cup holders. Oh, and luxury boxes. Sure wish I could afford one of those. That would be so sweet.
Thing is, this will be the only game I'll be able to go to this year. The old ticket price was nearly half of what I paid this year. Hot dogs are five bucks, a piece. Nachos sound good, but then I won't have enough for the parking. Parking, I almost forgot, they charge $8 for parking now. Guess I'll only have one hot dog.
Yeah, but it's worth it to see my team live, and in person. So what if they'll be the size of little green army men, at least I get to see the new stadium. I think it's called Sanyo Field. Last year it was called Charmin Stadium. The year before that the team didn't play there. They used to play at old Owens Field.
Man, I remember old Owens Field. The place was a dump. Still, going to see the games there felt like visiting an old friend. It had its quarks, but that's what made it charming. I think it was named after Jesse Owens. He was there when they broke ground sometime after the '36 Olympics. They're going to tear it down later this year. Better days.
Before I forget, this article was brought to you by Sam Adams. Sam Adams, you won't believe the taste. Remember to drink Sam Adams responsibly.
Bliss / archive / Spring 2003