Capitalist Hugs

Ooooh… only $2.

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Vaguely I wonder what comes with the deluxe hug? Perhaps more square inch mammary gland surface area contact? I might be willing to pay for that. I quite like boobs pushed up against me.

Comparatively I imagine the free hug is like the hug you’re forced to give that creepy relative… while internally reciting the mantra ‘Don’t kiss me on the mouth, don’t kiss me on the mouth’ (while at the same time trying to breathe… through your mouth)

The Deluxe Hug must be… like that all encompassing, grappling, bear hug that takes your to edge of asphyxiation/orgasm? Or maybe there is some form of sanitation that takes place between events. Be sure the hugger is hepatitis free, here’s his certificate. Or maybe they synergize their hug with some kind of added extra. ‘You smell great’.

‘Really? Thanks!’ *feels good for the rest of the day*

I want one.

You think the advertised price includes GST?

 

Texting.

At some point my iPhone decided ‘cool’ should actually be ‘cook’ and now oscillates between hardcore obstinacy and whimsically auto-correcting this word. Which is problematic because ‘cool’ it is my most used affirmation. Which is then often followed by duck. Sometimes all in Caps. Apparently my most used profanity.

Wife: Can you stop and get milk?

Jo: Cook

Jo: DUCK

Wife: I’m assuming this means you’re on it?

Jo: Yes.

Of course some people have surpassed mere mortals and… sub-mortals (i.e. me) and turned this form of communication into something more profound.

Case in point.

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I want to be like Lily’s dad. Only… I don’t think I have the energy or thesaurus like ability (on the fly) to pull this off.

Also I’m hungry now. ‘Joey feels the need to sate the ravenous emptiness in his abdomen with slivers of sauteed hind of swine’.

When actually I mean…

Hmm. Bacon.

Future-proof yourself

Sometimes I worry about the future. (When I’m not sleeping I mean). I think about the long haul truck drivers that are going to be out of work. I think about the UPS guy in his turd colored overall getting replaced by a turd colored drone… but most of all I worry about the strippers!

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In a cashless society… how would this work? How will these lithe, fearless acrobats be able to put themselves through college anymore? Will strip joints have to put these performers on a payroll? Where will the hedge fund managers go for lunch? Will society fall apart? Will boobs be relegated to mere mammary gland status?

Think about that next you hit up your crypto-exchange. You guys are killing an institutionalized industry (and maybe the world). I hope you’re proud of yourselves!

…and never the twain shall meet

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It’s not exactly Kipling… but this blog is likely a little low brow for..

Oh, East is East, and West is West, and never the twain shall meet,
Till Earth and Sky stand presently at God’s great Judgment seat;
But there is neither East nor West, Border, nor Breed, nor Birth,
When two strong men stand face to face, though they come from the ends of the earth!
Fuck ’em up son. Wu for life. 

Wait a second did you just splice ‘Ol Dirty Bastard into Rudyard Kipling ?

I did. And I am not ashamed. Okay, maybe a little ashamed.

Like 1%.

 

Pompeii v2.0

ie. the town in ancient Rome that was covered in ash when Mount Vesuvius erupted… (looks it up) in 79AD. My initial guess was only about 100 years off. What did we do before Google? Make stuff up? *Jo laughs sardonically*

My enduring memory of visiting Pompeii is that of a giant penis.

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Apparently dick jokes were a thing 2000 years ago. We’ve definitely moved on since then… I want to say we’ve taken our dick jokes online… drawing them out in beach sand, corn fields and on frozen lakes and then following it up with some adroit drone-work… but occasionally you will still find a giant schlong hastily illustrated on some suburban concrete canvas.

If a modern day eruption were to cover us in volcanic ash, preserving us for posterity… how would we look like to a future generation two thousand years from now?

Likely I would be caught in my natural state, occupying some weird, unergonomic position that is not quite supine cradling my Macbook and trying to take one last sip of coffee. Hopefully with my pants on. Assuming the latter, quite a dignified way to be preserved I feel.

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Not all of us will be that lucky though. I can only imagine our future progenies mouthing the words, ‘What… the actual… fuck is going on here… is that girl… wearing Crocs?’

To be fair I might be being a bit presumptuous when it comes to assuming a gender here…

The crushing weight of existence

I loved this answer.

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I think people definitely ‘feel’ this weight differently. For some, existence, on the whole, doesn’t seem to bother them much at all. While for others it’s all they feel. I imagine, like with all things, it probably resembles a bell curve… and that most of us are somewhere near the middle, straddling both hemispheres, likely leaning either left or right depending on which way the wind is blowing.

 

Protest statistics…

…that I made up. While supine on the sofa. Watching Gilmore Girls. And eating microwave popcorn.

And while I realise made up statistics aren’t always accurate… I feel, since this is my blog, I am entitled to foist my particular narrative onto whoever deigns to read this far.

In any event I am pretty confident that if you live in the first world, 95% of all outrage should actually be relabelled as ‘at most a mild-annoyance or misunderstanding, that has been whipped up to a foamy consistency and then portrayed as life or death through verbose language’. Potentially typed out all in capitals. Often championed by a demagogue or someone seeking to make their life seem relevant or meaningful (again).

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Leaving 5% for genuine outrage.

Quickly checks that actually adds up to 100%. Okay… we’re good. Wouldn’t want to be derailed by maths.

Rory Gilmore is about to drop out of Yale. My wife annotates for me. I only have this vague sense of whats going on. Apparently this is quite a watershed moment though.

Our Friday nights are super exciting (these days).

Lists…

I have a very good sense of my strengths and weaknesses. Mostly because I have very few strengths and lots of weaknesses (basically everything else). My wife took the day off work yesterday to come help me interview people for a job vacancy at my company.

I am quite bad at interviews.

Jo: ‘So how to you feel about sushi?’

Potential job applicant: ‘Are you kidding? I love sushi!’

Jo: ‘You’re hired!’  *starts dancing*

Whereas my wife is quite scary (I’ve realised). She takes notes and asks these really tough (work related) questions. I’m impressed I remembered to wear shoes.

I try and chime in every now and then to make it seem like I have something valuable to add. But really, I know this is what George W. Bush felt like when he was reading that children’s book and the secret service agent came and whispered in his ear… and he’s sitting there wondering what he should do now… but also thinking about a ham sandwich.

Afterwards we sit at my desk. I color in with my crayons and she tries to help me with some of my nightmarish accounting issues I’ve recently inherited.

She makes me a list of things I need to do. She’s learned by now that if she doesn’t write things down for me… the mission is over before it begins. Thats not a guarantee that I won’t loose the list… or…

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… completely misinterpret whats written on the list. But theres a chance.

Yeah, I have no idea why she married me either.

Not Jason

I was getting coffee and a choc chip muffin this morning. My late week staple when things have largely started going sideways on me. A heavy set, bearded, behemoth gets out of his truck wearing a camouflage bomber jacket and sporting a Glock on his thigh. On the side of the truck is emblazoned ‘Argon security’.

He orders coffee and we stand together.

‘Would you consider yourself an “Argonaut”‘, I venture casually. He gives me a look like I’m mentally challenged. I point at the truck, ‘Argon’… as if to underscore my point.

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He gives me another look that I interpret as ‘are you high?’ God I wish I was…

Maybe they’re named after the inert noble gas? Although that makes no sense to me. I feel that I’m loosing this particular battle however and that he is no mood for chit-chat. I sigh. ‘Nevermind’. I guess were not going to be discussing the modern warriors penchant for tarn-fleck over golden sheep’s wool.

He’s ordered a caramel Macchiato. I judge him… albeit silently.