Monthly Archives: December 2015

Cats

animals, language, technology, , , ,

They say that there is more than one way to skin a cat. To which I reply: Exactly how do we know this? Like, is there some computer genius out there somewhere who has dedicated their life’s efforts toward creating the most advance computer simulation imaginable, which now runs through millions of iterations of hypothetical scenarios involving various numbers of cats and sharp implements, and which has led to the indisputable conclusion that there are precisely 4.5 or 12.7 or 342.9 ways to skin a cat?

Is this how we know this?

What? You say that this knowledge is derived from real-life instances of actual human beings skinning actual cats?

Ewww, gross.

But more to the point: What an inefficient way to reach such a conclusion.

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Santa Claus is such a fucking sell out

absurd or surreal, culture, humor, indie, pop culture, Uncategorized, , , ,

Over the last week or so, I’ve noticed all these ads on TV. With Santa Claus in them. And it’s not like these commercials are merely appropriating the likeness of Santa’s image in order to peddle their products. No, Mr. Claus himself personally appears in these ads and plays an active role in helping these companies sell their wares.

In other words, it turns out that Santa Claus is a fucking sell out! Just like the rest of them!

And this devastates me on such a personal and profound level, I can’t even begin to tell you. But I’ll try.

See, I used to be Santa’s number-one biggest fan back when I was a kid. And I remember each year around holiday season, all my friends would be asking their parents for brand-name-X pair of designer jeans, or state-of-the-art-company-Y’s latest video game console. But not me, no siree. When my parents asked me what I wanted for Christmas, I told them that I was totally down with whatever artisan hand-crafted toys Santa and his merry band of D.I.Y. punk-rock arctic elves decided to churn out that year.

And I loved those fucking D.I.Y. artisan toys!

But now in retrospect, it seems clear that the man that I used to non-ironically call “St. Nick” was just biding his time. He was merely building up his indie cred, until he finally got the big blockbuster company deal. And he fucking cashed in.

What a fucking sell out.